Page 7

The sun rises over the grey skyline, the buildings glowing with illuminating light as the rays stretch over Lions Gate Bridge. That first morning sun, whether hidden by clouds or shining brightly, calms my heart rate, even as my feet pound the pavement.

There’s something about sunrises that feed my soul and make me feel small in a way I don’t experience once the world’s awake. There’s hardly anyone on the paths this morning, just the way I like it. I don’t have to focus on the ground to avoid eye contact, run different routes, or move to the side so women aren’t intimidated by me.

Not that I mind—I want people to feel safe while they’re running. But it gets tiring, making myself smaller so people aren’t uncomfortable. I’m forced to run between two women as the path bends and my skin tightens as though my body is trying to shrink. Hopefully they didn’t think I did that on purpose.

I keep a slow, steady pace, barely breaking out of a seven-minute kilometre and enjoying the feel of the pavement under my feet. My thoughts are jumbled this morning. Not getting enough sleep does that to me. But I tossed and turned all night long—the disdain of a watchful pair of green irises must have cursed me with a sleepless night.

Knowing I deserved it, I forced thoughts of Leah out of my head. There was no point. Sure, she’s so fucking beautiful she made my head ache, and I hadn’t been able to keep my focus from straying back to her all night. Especially when she had her son. She must be strong to carry her kid around. He looked heavy.

All I wanted to do was offer to help, but after my temper exposed the worst of me, there was no way in hell she would’ve let me. Not to mention I’m a complete stranger to her, so even if I hadn’t been an asshole, it would have been weird to offer.

Still didn’t stop me from checking on her, hoping she would ask someone for help if she needed it. But she lugged him around until he was fast asleep, doing everything one-handed, checking in on everyone else. I saw Adam’s mom, sister, and Paige check in on her, but I don’t think she let anyone help her, even after they insisted.

Flashes of my own single dad doing everything himself crossed my mind. The man ran himself ragged supporting me—working two or more jobs, making sure I had everything I needed and wanted, putting me in all the goalie clinics.

Looking back, I realized how much he sacrificed so I could be here today, one of the best goalies in the league. The food he didn’t eat because I needed more. The time he didn’t have because I needed more. The space he didn’t take because I needed more.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t be less.

And no matter how much I provide for him now, how much time I give him, he’ll never get back those nights he went to bed hungry. He’ll always have the burns on his hands from the harsh cleaners the hotels where he worked made him use. I’ll never be able to repay him for everything he’s done for me. So I go to every single wedding of his and smile, hoping he finds happiness. I fly him out to games and I go home when I can.

But there’s a small seed of discomfort I’ve buried deep, the one that’s still trying to be less so he doesn’t have to give so much.

I’m glad Leah has amazing people in her life to help her. She’ll never ask for it though. My dad never did. He could have, I realized after spending so many years feeling guilty. He could have asked for help, but no one had taught him how.

The sun bleeds across the sky, the clouds diffusing the light into splashes of pink and orange as the city begins to awaken. More people start littering the path and that’s my cue to leave. Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s been a little over an hour. Shit. I’m going to feel this later.

I nod to some of the people who recognize me, picking up my pace, trying not to think of it as running away. When I get back to my apartment I jump in the shower. It’s one of my favourite places.

Until this place, I’ve never had a shower I could stand in and be comfortable. The rain showerhead is the perfect size, and when I stand under it, I let the water fall over my broad shoulders and down my back, letting out a sigh of relief at being home. Away from people and their gawking.

Only one pair of eyes linger.

When the water runs cold, I get out and begin my hair routine. It’s second nature now to detangle and apply the right products. Because of my parentage, my curls are softer, less tight. The upkeep still takes a while, but I find the whole process relaxing.

Once my hair is taken care of and piled in a loose bun, I get started on breakfast. I toss out the empty carton of eggs, my stomach grumbling at the delay after my unexpectedly long run this morning. I’m about to sit down when my phone dings. What the hell? It’s barely 7:00 a.m.

To: [email protected]

From: Leah Harrison (via Google Docs)

Leah Harrison shared a document

Leah Harrison ([email protected]) has invited you to edit the following document:

Hey Wedding Party,

Mateo and I were talking about ideas for P+A’s wedding festivities and we thought it would be fun to have you all collaborate. They want a stag and doe weekend instead of separate bachelor/bachelorette parties so let’s give them a great celebratory weekend. Jot your ideas down and let’s see what we can come up with. Let’s have some (organized) fun!

Paige & Adam’s Bachelor/Bachelorette Weekend

OPEN

If you don’t want to receive files from this person, block the sender from Drive

The whole weekend? How the hell did she get this together so fast? I don’t open the document, not wanting to seem too eager. Besides, what could I contribute? Other than running and sex, what do Paige and Adam do together?

An unfamiliar emotion overwhelms me as I think of all the couple things they might do. I think I’m jealous. I’m not sure I’ve ever been jealous before. Damn. All the peace and calm my long run gave me is gone, like I’ve just plunged into an ice bath.

Then it hits me. I’m not sure what my future holds or if I’ll even be living here when they actually get married. They haven’t set a date yet—it’s been no more than a week since they got engaged. But Leah is already planning the festivities . I bet she’s on Paige’s ass about setting a date. That brings a small smirk to my face.

I realize I’m stalling. I don’t have any good ideas for this weekend. What if they hate my ideas? Will I even have fun with this group? Won’t it be weird because all of Adam’s siblings are going to be there?

My mind won’t stop spinning and I’m not going for another run. So I do the next best thing and sit down with a book, getting lost in a world where the quiet, brooding hero doesn’t take up too much space and is someone who gets everything they’ve ever wanted.

My phone pings again, jolting me out of my nap. I glance down, catching my open book before it falls to the floor .

Blinking the sleep away, I see twenty emails sitting in my inbox. I click on the link, finally opening it. There are three separate sections, one for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Date still TBD.

There’s a flurry of red, blue, green, purple, and pink typing on the page. Leah has assigned each of us a colour in a ledger at the top. Apparently I get grey. Lucky me. I suppose it could be worse. She could’ve given me white.

Looks like I missed one hell of a planning session during my nap, because a lot has been decided and agreed upon. We’re going to Vegas. I hate Vegas. But apparently Paige loves the cliché aspect of it all. And as I skim through all the activities, it seems as though we’re doing a weekend based solely on stereotypes from a ’90s rom-com movie.

Strip clubs, brunch, and all the kitschy tourist things. I hate all of it.

What the hell? Is this some kind of joke? With so many people around, there’s no way I’m going to have fun. Not that this is about me. I don’t know Leah well at all, but I’d venture to guess she wouldn’t plan something her sister would hate.

But here’s one thing that’s not on the itinerary that absolutely should be. I take a deep breath and start typing.

Julien: We should fit a race in here somewhere.

Almost immediately, a cursor moves over to highlight my text. Leah. A comment appears within a few seconds .

Leah: I don’t think it’s a good idea

Leah: We don’t want to be worried about anything that might affect a race, or be too tired to enjoy the rest of the weekend

Julien: Not everyone has to do it

Leah: It’s a group weekend and some of us are not runners

Isabel: I’m with Leah, there’s no way you’re getting me to run

Simon: I think Adam and Paige would love that

Julien: That’s why I suggested it

The comments are suddenly gone, including my text in the document. What the—she deleted it?

Oh, it’s on. My competitive nature strikes and for some reason, this woman is bringing out the worst in me. I search for Leah’s colour. Red. How fitting. She’s suggested a few things others have liked. I scroll through and find what looks like her favourite suggestion.

Dessert sampling

Alright, that does sound good. She’s even written down a bunch of dessert places and food trucks to stop at. I have to say, it’s all meticulously thought out—completely mapped out and planned.

Before she can react, I highlight it all and delete it.