“Her boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate anything more than just friendly intentions,” he says, a hint of a frown in his admission.
“Boyfriend? Since when?”
“She told me last week, after it became official. They met at the marathon.”
My stomach drops at that. No doubt this is salt in Anker’s wounds about the marathon. Not only did he not get to run it, but the woman I know he wants—even if he won’t admit it—met someone else there.
“He’s a reporter who interviewed her. Guess he reached out to do some follow-up, which led to a friendship, which led to…” He clears his throat. “She’s happy, and that’s all that matters.”
“I’m so sorry.” I reach out, squeezing his forearm.
He shrugs me off. “It’s not a big deal. Just wasn’t meant to be.”
“It’s not like they’re married. Couples break up all the time. You never know what will happen.”
He snorts a dismissive laugh. “I’d prefer not to hope for Sonora’s heartbreak.”
It’s not exactly what I’m hoping for.Though, isn’t it?For Anker to get a second chance at a first chance, someone’s heart will need to break—Sonora’s or her new boyfriend. While not all breakups equate to heartbreak, it still comes with a little sadness. I wouldn’t want that for them, but I want my brother’s happiness more.
“Plus, there are other big brown-eyed women out there,” he says.
I see past his false bravado. Anker may wear the carefree cad mask, but I know what’s underneath. With past failed relationships—or a prospect of one—Anker moved on. Despite the bevy of brown-eyed women out there, I suspect there’s only one for my brother.
“You ready for this?” He motions around the race.
Cupid Course consists of a children’s 1K and an adult 10K course looping through downtown Seal Beach. The course winds through neighborhoods, runs along the coast, and ends near the pier. Kayla and Catherine are at the ready with their phones to capture video at the finish line to send to my parents. Anker will join them there after Garrett arrives before our start time.
“Yup.” I inhale deeply, allowing the kinetic energy of the race to wash over me.
I still can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s not like I wasn’t aware that this would be today’s environment. I’ve been at the finish lines for some of Anker’s races, but it’s so different when you’re the one running it. Cupid Course is on a whole other level, with hundreds of participants broken into different running groups and start times throughout the day.
“This is just practice. It’s just part of your training to prepare you for the big show with me in October.” Anker squeezes my shoulder, pulling my attention to him. “Nobody expects you to set a course record.”
Setting a record isn’t the goal, but I do have expectations. Over the last few months, I’ve ramped up to a steady jog on the treadmill or with Garrett, hitting four to five miles without stopping to power walk. While I haven’t yet run the 6.2 miles—without stopping—that make up a 10K, I’m determined to do that today. I know I’ll have a second chance in March after I run my second of two planned 10Ks, but I want to knock this out of the park my first time at bat. I want to not just meet my own expectations, but have my friends have some for me beyond just finishing.
I pout. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“This isn’t about doubting you. You’ve got this. You’remysister after all.”
“Your modesty is boundless.” I shake my head.
“It’s probably one of my top ten features,” he says cheekily. “But I know you have this. I just don’t want you to put extra pressure on yourself. Whether you power walk or run it, finishing is the goal. You don’t need to push yourself.”
“The whole point of this is about pushing past my boundaries.” I tip my head up to take in his face, my hat’s brim further obscuring my vision, requiring me to scan a little more than usual.
“First, I thought the point of this was to help me prove the existence of the Larsen lore. Who knows, somewhere here may be the love of your life. It is the year you turn thirty, my dear sister.”
“No thanks. I’m on hiatus.” I roll my eyes.
Laughing, he loops his arm around my shoulder. “Also, the fact that you’re even here is already far past the boundaries you once had. I just don’t want you to put too much pressure on yourself. That’s how mistakes happen.”
That’s how people get hurt is what he’s not saying. It’s the quiet warning beneath his words. Garrett. Me. Other runners. Any of us could get hurt if I make a mistake. Like weeds poking through sidewalk cracks, dread slinks through me.
“Don’t get it twisted, sister”—he unzips his hoodie and points to his T-shirt—“I’m team Jensen all the way.”
Squinting, I take in his shirt. “Is that…”
“Yup.” He waves to himself. “It’s your face below the wordsSee Her Run.”
