She reared up tall and determined. “Don’t ask me again if I’m sure. I’m in this for the win as much as you. If I have to, I’ll carryyouon my back across the finish line.”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He smiled. “Let’s go again.”
One…two…three, and they charged forward. This time without stumbling. The next practice run they launched on the one count to give them a good jump at the starting line. At last, they declared themselves ready and hobbled to the sideline to await their turn.
Standing among the racers, John watched the heat before theirs with enthusiasm, a bit of adrenaline flowing, realizing how much he wanted to win. How much heneededto win. To close out the year of Holland’s death with a triumph. No matter how small. Something to remind him Blue blood flowed through his veins. And that there was more to life than death.
Even if it was a cheap, ugly trophy for The Wedding Shop.
Beside him, Gemma cheered on the couple in the lead. “Come on, Devon!” She looked at John. “She’s my cousin.”
“Then come on, Devon.”
But Devon and her partner tumbled, rolling off the racetrack, laughing. After another two races, his and Gemma’s heat was called.
Lining up at the starting line, Gemma baited JoJo. “You’re going to eat my dust, Jo.”
“Whatevs. Buck, did you hear that? She thinks they’re going to win.”
“A girl can dream but that don’t make it real,” Buck said with a glance at John.
So, the challenge was on. He leaned slightly forward, his arm taut around Gemma. She cinched her arm about him and gripped the side of his shirt.
“Y’all racers, ready?” The chap Hooley was at the starting line with his bullhorn. “On your mark, get set…”
A starter pistol sounded, and they were off. Out of the gate, three couples tripped, thus thinning the field. He and Gemma moved in perfect stride, their joined legs performing as one.
“We’re going to win.” She quickened their pace.
“Steady, don’t rush it.” They’d settled into a solid rhythm.
“Up ahead, up ahead,” she said, nodding toward a couple who’d fallen. They hurdled them with ease.
“Good job, love,” John said, leaning all the more into the race, into the win, each deep, humid gulp of Tennessee air clearing away a bit of his dullness.
To his left, Buck and JoJo raced with skill. To Gemma’s right, Haley and Cole, whom he’d only just met, also seemed in command of their game. John urged Gemma forward, picking up the pace.
No longer a game, no longer about town pride, this race was John’s life and he must triumph.
They neared the turnaround—a large tree—in first place. Splendid. He regretted ever doubting Gemma’s ability.
“Watch out, Prince, more litter on the track.” They leapt over another fallen couple and sidestepped a third.
But Buck and JoJo were closing in, yelling threats between fits of laughter.
“You can’t win, you two. Buck, watch it, you’re pulling too hard.”
“Ready for another gear?” John said low into Gemma’s ear.
Anticipating her yes, he looked over to see a slight hesitancy in her expression, but it was quickly consumed by a glint of steel determination. He increased his grip on the sack tighter and picked up the pace.
Together, they flew over the pitch and hurdled another downed, laughing couple tangled up in gunny sack and rope. The finish line was mere meters ahead. The win was theirs for the taking.
He pulled harder, dragging Gemma’s tied leg with his.Take that, death. Or life. Whichever. You cannot defeat me.
“Hey, Prince, wait—”
“Come on, love.”
