“Excuse me?” Miles steps back, pivoting toward Garrett.
“She can’t run with those.”
“I’m aware.” Hands on hips, Miles’s tone is icy.
“Like two bucks.” Anker’s low mutter is barely audible.
If he weren’t right next to me, I likely wouldn’t have heard it. As much as I want to protest, this is exactly what this is like. Garrett and Miles are squared off like gunslingers. Each dig is a verbal bullet aimed at the other.
“Flowers are great, but typically a finish line thing.” Anker’s interjection is good-humored.
“Indeed.” Miles chuckles, taking the bouquet back. “Just wanted to wish you luck. I’ll hold on to these for you at the finish line.”
“Thank you. It really was sweet,” I say.
“On that note…” A nervous laugh falls out of Anker. “I’ll take your cane and the tributes your adoring subjects have bestowed on you and go meet Kayla and Catherine at the finish line.”
“You’re going to smash this race, and then after we’ll celebrate you like the proper queen you appear to be.” Miles gives me a side hug before turning to leave with my brother.
“You’re talking to literary fuckboy again?” Garrett says, his jaw clenched.
“We’re just friends.” I turn to face him, tipping my head up to take him in.
The brim of his hat shadows his face, but I know a firm line anchors his mouth. “Does he know that?”
“I’ve told him as much.”
“He wants more.” He gestures in the direction that I suspect Miles walked off to.
“Well, I don’t... Not from him.”
The man I want more from, I am too chicken shit to ask. Fear holds me back from just saying it to Garrett, because what if I’m wrong? What if he doesn’t want me? What if he does, but won’t let himself? Somehow, I’m here again with feelings for someone I shouldn’t have feelings for. Someone who, if they do have feelings for me, isn’t ready to admit them. Someone who, despite how much I don’t want to be that woman anymore, I’d wait for. That I’d break my own heart for. I’ll have lots to discuss during this week’s session with Dr. Nor.
Cocking one eyebrow, I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t want to talk about Miles or your disapproval of my friendship with him. What I want to do is focus on the task at hand. We have a race to run. So, do you want to lecture me about Miles or run with me?”
“Jensen, I?—”
“Turnip,” I huff out.
He tips his head back, releases a hard breath, and then looks at me. “Fine… Let’s run.”
“Fine.” I take his arm for him to lead me to the start line.
Now is not the time to deal with this. My head needs to be in this race, not thinking about either of these men. Not Miles with his definitely “more than friends” flowers, or Garrett, whose every action twists me into a knotted up ball of confusion about his feelings, and my own. One moment, I think we can just befriends. The next moment, the pull for more is so strong that I’m scared I’ll break if I keep holding myself back from it—from him.
It’s why I stopped having him drive me home. The line is getting blurred. I know that, but the thought of a Garrett-free existence guts me.
Ugh… I’m so fucked.
“I overstepped…” he says as we move through the crowd. “I am sorry. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“Me neither.” I squeeze his bicep. “Running together is about trust, and you’ve gotta trust me to make the right choices to keep myself safe. If you don’t, this will never work.”
He stops, twisting to face me. “I do trust you.”
“And I trust you. Forget about Miles. Forget about everything else. There’s just us and this race.” I hit him with what I hope is a soft smile.
This is where my focus needs to be. Not on Miles. Not on my feelings for Garrett. Just on this moment. It may be my typical Jensen-self of waiting for things, but I can wait to deal with all this tomorrow. Today is my first—hopefully—victory lap on this journey. I just want to sink into that. The rest is for tomorrow’s Jensen to deal with.
