Phil lifted his coffee cup. “You deserve it, sis. All of this and more. I’m proud of you.”
She nodded. “I’m glad you’re here.” Brooke glanced around the room. “Glad all of you are here. I mean it when I say I wouldn’t be doing this without your support. And I also wanted to thank those of you who have already offered to help me train and volunteered to be part of my crew or to pace me during the Moose Range Run.”
Brooke gave Tyler’s hand a squeeze. She’d specifically asked him if he’d be willing to run with her on the last long leg. Instinctively, he knew it was an honor and something he had to do.
“That all said,” Brooke continued, “I’m not the only one with a big race happening in the next few months. Steph is doing the Frozen Divide 100 in March and is already training for it, though we all know her real training will begin after the snow starts since it’s a self-sufficient winter race.”
“So no pacers for me,” Steph said. “But I’d welcome anyone who wishes to be at the start or finish.”
“I’ll be there,” Jocelyn promised. “No way would I miss you setting a new personal best.”
Steph shrugged. “That’s the plan anyway. Hopefully, everything comes together and the course is kind to me this year.”
Tyler had heard stories about the winter races Steph had done, and how the weather could turn brutal and ruin everything, even when she had trained and prepared as much as possible.
“You’ll be fine,” Jocelyn assured her. “And I’ve already reserved a house near the race.” She glanced around the room. “Let me know if you want to be there to cheerSteph on. It’s the middle of March, so check your calendars.”
“And check your calendars for the first weekend of July,” Steph said. “That’s when Jocelyn is running her first marathon. She’ll need us there to cheer her on.”
The conversation continued as the group made plans to attend Steph’s race in March, Jocelyn’s race in July, and the Moose Range Run in June for Brooke.
Tyler stayed where he was, Brooke’s hand in his, watching her glow with excitement and marveling at this group and how they were more family than friends.
This was their future. Not perfect. Not without challenges. But together. Building something real out of the wreckage of their pasts.
He’d lost everything once and thought he’d never have this again—a partner, a community, a reason to look forward instead of back.
But here he was. In Brooke’s kitchen. Surrounded by people who cared. Planning for a race eight months away, like the future was something he could count on.
Brooke caught his eye again. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
He didn’t need to ask what for. He knew. For believing in her. For staying. For being there through the worst and promising to be there for what came next.
Tyler pulled her close, careful of his crutches, and held her while the celebration continued around them.
Epilogue
8 Months Later
Brooke’s legs had stopped feeling like legs somewhere around mile eighty. Now they were just these things attached to her body that moved when she told them to, more or less. Each step sent protests through muscles she didn’t know she had.
“You’re doing great,” Tyler said. He’d seen her off yesterday morning at nine and met her at Antler Creek Outbound around noon. He’d wanted to be at the Rendezvous aid station, the turnaround point, at midnight, but Gina insisted he rest so he could pace her today.
Tyler had been waiting when she arrived at Antler Creek Inbound, mile 82.5, a little before two in the afternoon, twenty-nine hours into her run. Seeing him, cheering and calling her name, gave her a new drive that even overrode the exhausting pulling at every cell in her body.
“I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying. You’re finishing.”
Having him run next to her for the rest of the way had been amazing. Every time she thought she couldn’t take one more step, he’d say something or do something that kept her going.
“Look there,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.
Brooke looked up to see a young girl waving an Otter Pop. Almost There aid station, the last one before the finish. She was starting to think she just might make it.
“You’re almost finished,” the little girl said as she handed them each their frozen treat.
Tears stung Brooke’s eyes. She was doing it. She was really doing it. Only two miles remained. She’d been running for thirty-three hours. Through daylight and darkness and daylight again. Through pain and doubt and moments where she’d wanted to quit so badly she could taste it.
