“Sure.” His mouth slants into a lopsided grin.
“Plus, I made a promise to do this with you.”
Any hesitation I have is washed away with that truth. It’s not just about promising Anker, but myself. I told myself at the start of this, I’d run the marathon with my brother. Even if this is no longer just about him, he’s part of it. I chose to do this despite the residual lingering failure from our past. Somehow, I saw through the fogginess of past failures to have hope that this time would be different. In those moments, I believed in myself before I knew I could actually do it. I want to honor the Jensen I used to be, who believed enough in herself to take this chance.
“Promises can be broken, especially if they don’t serve us anymore. I wouldn’t be hurt. I just want you to do what’s best for you,” he says.
“And I am.” I lean into him. “Garrett and I may be a team, but so are we.”
“That we are.” He kisses my temple.
“Not to mention, I’m your insurance policy to ensure the Larsen love magic finds you.”
“And if it doesn’t, I’ll settle into my role as your incorrigible bachelor brother whom you’re obligated to have over for family meals.” He bumps his hip against me. “After all, you’re with the future Mr. Jensen Larsen.”
“Again, it’s too soon for that talk.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he says wryly.
“Also, I’m not thirty yet.”
“Garrett and you didn’t get together until this year. Theyearyou turn thirty. Theyearyou’re running a marathon… It’s the Larsen lore.” He makes jazz hands.
I furrow my brow. “The Larsen lore is about meeting your one.”
“Findingyour one.” He clears his throat. “Remember Uncle Christian and Pedro met in high school but didn’t find each other again until they were in the same running group training for the Boston Marathon.”
That thought resembles placing a hand close to a candle. Its flame licks against your palm, sending heat tingling along your nerves. But if you get too close, you could get burned, or worse, you could snuff it out. The idea of an endless marathon with Garrett surges joy and terror inside me, because I want that. I want that so much that it scares me.
“I think you two didn’tfindyour way to each other until this year for a reason.”
My brother may see fate’s invisible hand in this, but I just see the natural procession of time. Just like running, relationships need to build. Muscles need to gain strength and endurance. Hearts need to have the will. It all needs to come together.
“I didn’t find Garrett. I think I’ve found myself,” I say, leaning into my brother. “Garrett is just the bonus.”
“I got the rope,” Garrett says, jogging back to us.
“Ready for this?” Anker asks.
“Are you?” I hum, my smirk likely matching the one kicked across my brother’s face.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
Indeed.
While Garrett settles on the grass with a thermos of coffee and a medical romance novel Catherine talked him into, Anker and I hit the track. The first few minutes are focused on teaching him Garrett and my rope-based language. Two quick tugs equal agreement. One short tug means slow down—something we perfected after Garrett’s tumble a few months back. Three quick tugs to go faster. Between the volume of noise at the races, and needing to focus on breathing as we run, conversations aren’t always doable, so these commands, combined with our quick verbal callouts, do the trick.
With a nod, Anker takes the other end of the rope. Just like the first time with Garrett, we’re walking this first lap as a warm-up to get used to each other.
Anker’s more relaxed than I thought he’d be. His muscles are loose, and he doesn’t pull back on the rope as I give us just a bit of slack. That is, until we increase to a slow jog in the middle of our second lap. Anker pulls just a little tighter, shortening our slack. Garrett only ever does this if we’re surrounded by other runners and we need to go single file, but he always calls outMadeline, which is my term for getting into that formation likethe character from my favorite childhood book. Right now, that’s not what’s happening.
“It’s just us here,” I say, giving the rope more slack.
“I just…” He puffs a breath then offers two quick tugs.
My mouth lifts into a large grin. While this is just the start, it reassures me that I’m making the right decision.
“My treat.” I grin, slipping my credit card from the back pocket of my yoga pants.
