Page 29

Julien is sprawled out on the guest bed in Levi’s room. I moved his toddler bed into my room for the time being. After convincing Julien going to Adam’s was not practical—and who else could he ask, considering he’s such a loner?—he acquiesced.

Paige and Adam’s house, while beautiful, is difficult to get in and out of, and since he can’t drive, he wouldn’t be able to get around. Logic and common sense were on my side.

Though it’s only been five days, we’ve settled into a routine quicker than I thought we would. It’s oddly comfortable having him here. As though he’s been a part of our little family for much longer.

In the morning, I get up and argue with Julien about him helping get breakfast for the three of us—he never wins. Then I argue with Julien about letting me help him get dressed, and I never win.

He argues with me about helping clean up, getting Levi ready, and pretty much everything else. He never wins. And really, I let him win in the dressing department because I have a heart, and this heart needs to be protected at all costs .

It’s hanging on by a thread with him here, and if I see him naked, shirtless, pantless—anything less than fully clothed—I’ll be a goner.

To keep myself distracted from the sexy, injured goalie in my guest room, I’ve been focused on his brace. It’s a pretty standard brace, one I’ve seen countless times. A thick stabilizing belt wraps around his lower torso while a cuff secures around his upper thigh. The two bands are connected by rods and a limited hinge to help stabilize the hip’s movements.

It’s a brace that hasn’t improved in decades, and with the way Julien is struggling, wincing in pain every time he moves, it clearly doesn’t fit him properly. I know he’s still hurting from the dislocation, but from the way he moves, the brace is barely supporting him.

All week I’ve been fiddling around with different hinge braces, my stretching device project on hold. Inspiration struck, and I know I can make a better brace specifically for people of Julien’s size and occupation.

And not only this hip brace, but knee braces for ACL tears, similar to the one Paige had to wear for months. I think I could apply my idea across the board. This could be huge in the sports injury world, improving recovery by providing athletes proper rest and support while still allowing them to function at a higher level than the current braces do.

We’re eating a breakfast of eggs and toast when an idea pops into my head. I get up from the table abruptly, both boys following my movements, and make a quick call to work. Explaining to my boss that I’m out of office today doing field research, I ask if she can cover my class this morning .

“What’s wrong?” Julien asks when I join them at the table. I’m glad my small kitchen has a bench seat so Julien is able to sit as comfortably as possible.

“I’m coming to your appointment with Mateo today,” I tell him around a mouthful of cold eggs. Julien has a physiotherapy appointment almost every day with Mateo.

He raises a brow, leaning forward as much as he can to pick up the toast Levi threw on the table and toss it back to him. I sigh. Levi chucks it back onto the table and Julien absentmindedly returns it again.

Except he doesn’t realize he’s essentially taught my son that throwing food can be a game. I intercept the next pass of the now soggy, broken bread before Levi can get his grubby, dimpled hands on it again.

“I have an idea I want to run past him, see what he thinks.”

“An idea about what?”

“Your brace.” My eyes flick down to where the brace should be strapped on, but he’s not wearing it. Again.

This is the only other argument I can’t win with him. And what sparked my idea in the first place. He won’t wear the brace because it pinches and moves his hip in a painful, unnatural way.

But he’s over a foot taller than me and most likely a hundred pounds heavier. It’s not like I can force him down and strap the thing on myself. I definitely haven’t been daydreaming of doing just that.

He interrupts my torturous musings.

“Are you going running this morning? ”

And this is an argument he isn’t winning. I haven’t been running since the game. I can’t bring myself to go alone.

“No.”

“Leah—” he starts.

“I’ll get back into it when things are a little more settled.”

“You don’t want to lose your progress,” he insists.

The thing is, I know he’s right. It’s been almost three weeks already and I know that’s too long. But I haven’t run without Julien since I started, and I don’t know if I can do it alone.

But I don’t want to ask—

“Paige would love to go with you,” he says quietly, knowing where my thoughts have gone.

I’m already shaking my head, and he sighs, muttering that word for stubborn in French again. The more I think about it as I go through my morning routine, the more it makes sense to ask. I’m not ready to do it by myself and Julien will be down for months.

Will she feel obligated to say yes? Is it too much to ask of her? Thinking of how Julien automatically started running with me without me having to ask, I almost wish Paige would show up and do the same. Almost being the key word there.

But she’s been careful talking about running the past month or so. It’s a touchy topic between us. And I can’t expect her to read my mind.

I hate it when Julien is right. And he’s going to get that smug expression on his face, the one that makes me want to punch him and kiss him in equal measure .

There has been no kissing, no talk of kissing, no mention of the kissing that took place in this very apartment. Everything has been overly PG, even in my room at night since Levi is there. I have a lot of pent-up energy, which has nowhere satisfying to go. And running isn’t exactly the way I’d want to release it anyway.

Julien hasn’t brought it up and neither have I. He’s injured, so it’s not like he could ... you know. And I haven’t brought up that I know his contract with the Whales is expiring and there’s talk of him moving back to Montreal. I can’t. I won’t make his decision more difficult.

We can’t be anything to each other.

Unless he decides to stay.

Going for a run could be a good way to clear my head of all my swirling thoughts. I lock myself in my room and call my sister.

“How smug was Julien?” Paige asks when we meet up in the park.

I roll my eyes. “Smug enough I may have accidentally moved the book he’s reading to a place he can’t reach right now.”

Paige laughs and then kneels down to say hello to a bundled-up Levi. When she stands, she looks at me expectantly.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, I’m just glad you called.” She smiles her perfect Paige smile and I’m glad I called her too. “Do you want to set the pace? ”

Nerves suddenly make my voice a little shaky. “Sure.” I’ve never run with anyone except Julien, and he has the patience of a tree. “I’m slow, though, and sometimes I have to stop to walk,” I warn her.

“That’s fine, I don’t mind,” she says. She sounds sincere so I’m going to choose to believe her.

I set a pace that feels familiar, though I don’t have Julien here to keep track of our time and distance. Paige has her watch on, and I know she started the running setting, but I feel bad asking her to check for me. I should get my own, but there’s probably a free app I can use.

We’re silent for a while, and I definitely set the pace too fast—this is harder than I remember. Was it the three weeks off? Not even the beautiful city can distract me.

Is she having fun? Is she bored?

“Did you book that photographer you wanted?” I ask, breaking the silence, trying not to show her how out of breath I am already. I overshot the pace, not wanting to feel too slow for her.

Paige has been so busy with wedding planning, trying to lock down her favourite vendors. They’ve decided to get married in their backyard, so they’ll need to hire vendors for everything from catering to decor, and photography is the biggest one. I’ve been helping her sift through all their information.

“Yes, I did! She’s amazing, funny, and super chill. We paid the retainer yesterday,” Paige says excitedly.

“That’s great!” It comes out all breathy because I am dying.

It’s not that I let Julien push Levi every day, but ever since he insisted I work on my form, he’s been taking the stroller more and more. I feel Paige’s stare burrowing into my face, and she slows down.

Thank god.

“Are you ... do you want help?” she asks tentatively.

“No, I’m fine,” I automatically respond.

But it’s not true. I do want help—I could really use a break. Calling Paige was hard enough, but this? She wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t mean it. I know my sister. Why can’t I get the words out?

“Leah, let me help.” She says it so softly, like I might startle if she’s too loud.

“Okay,” I say just as quietly.

We switch places and Paige takes over pushing the stroller. I adjust to my proper running form, feeling both lighter and guiltier. Knowing she’ll chew me out if I try to apologize or take Levi back, I keep up my easy pace as we continue our run. Okay, I can do this. I shouldn’t have taken three weeks off.

Julien’s smug face filters into my mind. I hate that he was right. And I kind of hate that I don’t hate running as much as I thought I would. It’s not that bad. But my favourite thing about running? The doughnuts I’m going to pick up on the way back to my apartment. Chips and dip too. The craving reminds me of my hand position, and I gently press my thumb to my fingers, releasing my fist.

My stomach is happy thinking of all the food I’m going to eat. Especially the pizza I’m going to order tonight for dinner. Running makes me so hungry. Oh my god, I want bread right now. All the bread.

And maybe a hot dog.

I don’t even like hot dogs, but my mouth waters anyway. Paige’s heavy breathing distracts me from my food thoughts.

“Holy shit, Leah, what are you feeding this kid?”

“Shit,” Levi’s little voice parrots from the stroller.

“He does eat a lot. He gets it from his mommy,” I say proudly.

“This is so much harder than I thought it would be. You’ve been running with the stroller for months?”

Is that ... awe in her voice? My sister, the ultramarathoner, who can smash a 5k in twenty minutes, who thinks training for marathons is fun. She’s struggling.

“Julien runs with Levi a lot,” I say, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

“Oh no, you don’t get to downplay this. This is ridiculously hard. It’s resistance training on steroids.”

I look at her to gauge how serious she is, whether she’s placating me. But her face is sweaty and bright red, even in the colder weather. Her brows are furrowed in concentration, and she grimaces when a gust of wind catches the stroller.

“It’s like a sail, holy shit.”

“Shit,” Levi says on cue.

“Yeah, buddy, shit is right,” Paige mumbles, stretching her arms out to push the stroller along.

“I can take the stroller back,” I offer. Is it bad I’m enjoying seeing her struggle?

“No way. Apparently I’ve been lazy with my training. Seriously, Leah, this is hard.”

I almost argue, almost make light of how difficult it’s been. Difficult but rewarding.

“I know.”

“I wish you had told me sooner,” she says, “but I understand why you didn’t.”

“You do?”

“Of course. I know you. You’re always taking care of other people and heaven forbid anyone takes care of you. You’re the strongest person I know, and I wouldn’t have the life I’ve always dreamed of without you. But sometimes I think you’re too strong for your own good.”

Her words hit me right in my heart. She does understand. She may not feel the same weight on her, but she gets it.

“Like last year, after your accident, you were the worst patient ever. Insisting on doing everything yourself even after you practically broke half the bones in your body and had an organ removed. You’re lucky I love you so much.” She gives me a look reminiscent of Julien and his smug face.

And that he’s currently being the same pain in the ass patient I was.

I hate it when she’s right. So I do the one thing I can think of—I stick my tongue out.

“Now who sounds like Mom?” She’s always saying it to me, so let’s see how she likes it.

But she doesn’t huff or scoff. She smiles, her eyes soft. “No, Leah, I sound like you .”