“Be still my ever-beating heart. Proposal via text message is peak romance.” Hand on my forehead, I mock-swoon.
Andrew chortles.
“Come on, sassy mouth, we’ve got work to do.” Garrett spins me and ushers me out of the office with a bump of his chest against my back.
“Sobossy.” A grin—that I know matches Garrett’s from the laughter in his tone—kicks across my face. Making this man smile will never cease to be my favorite high.
By the time we make it to the soccer field, the sun has set. Soft light from the lamp posts circling the track cut through the velvet darkness settling onto campus. The soundtrack ofcrickets, the slap of sneakers from a few other runners on the track, and distant chattering twines around us.
“I thought we could ramp it up a bit today,” Garrett says, unspooling the rope and handing me one end.
“Shall we do a piggyback for the two miles?”
“If you want, but I don’t know if your back is strong enough.”
“Ha!” I tip my head back and laugh. “Someone has all the jokes today.”
“I’m in a good mood.”
I can almost feel that lopsided grin flexing at the corners of his lips. More and more, I visualize every facial tick, twitch of the mouth, and lift of his eyebrows. Over the years, Garrett’s vocal profile has become like music. Each note sings me a different song.
“Why are you in a good mood? Did you sacrifice a resident to the medical gods or something?” I tease.
“Just in a good mood, sassy girl.” He tugs on his end of the rope. “I’m thinking tonight we jog.”
“Now, I know you really have jokes.” I give the rope one long tug, indicating my disagreement.
He gives it three quick tugs, which is our sign for keep going. “You got this. We’ll go slow, and nobody expects you to jog the full two miles.”
“What if I expect me to?” I run my fingers along the rope wrapped around my palm.
“Expectations can be dangerous. We can’t control that what we want will happen,” he says, his hard swallow is audible.
A furrow dips my brow. “Do you not have expectations for your life?”
“Just hope,” he murmurs.
“What do you hope for?”
“For time with the people I care about.” His words are scratchy like a rickety bridge that will break with just the wrong amount of pressure.
Time.The sadness underscoring that single word causes a dull twinge in my chest. I can’t imagine what losing someone you love is like. Anker’s accident is the first time anyone I love has ever been hurt. What must it be like to not just lose someone you love, but carry the burden of knowing it could happen again? Like Garrett says… Expectations are dangerous. You expect the people you love to always be there, and there’s no guarantee of that. No matter what you do.
I tip my gaze up to him. “I’m going to do something, and if you need to say turnip, I’ll understand.”
Using the rope, I pull myself closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist. For a moment, he stiffens but then folds his arms around me. Head pressed against his chest, we just remain like that. The rhythmic cadence of his heart hums in my ear. Each thump is a soothing lullaby.
Friends hug.That’s what I keep telling myself as I burrow just a little deeper into him. Chin rested atop my head, he just holds me. This is for me as much as for him. I can’t take away his fear of losing the people he cares about. All I can do is be there with him. I can’t fix him, but I can offer comfort. I can just hold him, and somehow that knowledge lessens the ache of helplessness.
“You always take care of people.” He breaks the silence cocooning us. “It’s like you setting up a reminder for me to eat lunch every day, or you helping Catherine prep for her next round of interviews. Hell, even this marathon training. You’re doing it to help your brother.”
“It’s just a hug,” I whisper.
“Sure.” He releases me. “Ready?”
Adjusting my glasses, I step back. “Yeah… Let’s hope I don’t fall on my face.”
“I won’t let you.” He tugs three times on the rope.
