They’d never said those words to each other, but Mara spoke them as if she said it all the time and it was no big deal.
“Really?”
Mara smiled and rolled her eyes. “No, I’m lying.”
She looked back at the water like that was that. Like she didn’t give a shit what Kirby might say back. Like she was secure in the knowledge that speaking those words into existence was enough.
“Are you saying that because you feel bad about the torture you’re going to put me through running Mount Marathon?” Kirby said.
“You’re a world-class athlete. An Olympian who recently won a medal in every event you competed in. Running up a little hill will be no big deal.”
Mount Marathon, a mountain on the outskirts of Seward, was not a little fucking hill. The race was considered the toughest five-k on the planet. In a few days’ time, they would try to conquer it. It was over three miles total, almost 3,000 feet of elevation gain in less than one mile, and averaged a thirty-four-degree incline with a sixty-degree incline at its steepest. It wasn’t so much a run as a vertical climb. And then they had to run down. Which wasn’t so much a run as a fall. Kirby’s goal was to be conservative and not break a leg.
Mara’s goal was to follow the tradition of the many cross-country skiers who had won.
“Mara May,” Kirby said, her voice shaky.
“Hmm?”
Kirby turned Mara’s face back toward her. Mara’s lips were tipped up into a knowing smile.
“I love you too.”
One of Mara’s eyebrows went up for half a second, and her smile transformed from knowing to joyous. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
Mara nodded and rested her forehead against Kirby’s just like after their team sprint gold medal.
“I’m going to smoke you on Saturday,” Mara murmured.
“You’ll be so far ahead of me, I won’t even see the smoke, princess.”
Mara pulled back and stared at Kirby for a long, intense moment, and Kirby realized she’d unintentionally repeated a bastardization of that very first potshot Mara had ever taken at her. Way back during the Beijing Olympics. Over four years ago.
I don’t see Kirby Bonham as a rival. I’m usually so far ahead of her, I don’t see her at all.
The beginning. The best thing that had ever happened to Kirby. Without that trash talk, they would never have fought and fallen in love.
“I knew then,” Kirby said. “Thinking back on it.”
A salty breeze ruffled their hair, and Mara cupped Kirby’s cheek, her eyes sparkling with emotion.
“Knew what?” Mara asked.
“That we were meant to live this life together in one way or another. As competitors. Rivals. Lovers. We belonged side-by-side.”
Tears welled and slipped down Mara’s cheeks. With no warning, she kissed Kirby soundly.
Then Mara jumped to her feet, kicked off her hiking boots, pulled off her socks, and looked down at Kirby sitting in the sand.
She grinned and roughly wiped her tears away. “Race ya.”
“Where to?”
Mara shrugged. “Wherever you want to go.” Then she took off, running toward the water lapping gently at the shore.
And Kirby followed.
