Page 28 of In the Long Run

Knox grabs the phone out of my hands, sending me an apologetic grimace as he mouths Sorry . ‘I will die on this hill if I have to, Violet: anyone who runs is a runner. Pace doesn’t matter. Showing up is what matters. Trying is what counts. And you do more than try – you’re smashing it.’

‘It was just so mean.’ Violet has stopped crying now, but she still sounds unsure of what we’re saying.

‘Unfortunately, people are mean. That’s never going to change, especially not on social media.

I can totally understand wanting to turtle and hide inside your shell right now, Violet.

I was in a similar position once, a long time ago – albeit under different circumstances – but I still remember how horrible it was.

When it feels like everyone’s looking at you.

Judging you based on their assumptions, rather than listening to or looking at the facts.

And then someone gave me some great advice. ’

‘What was that?’ I ask softly.

Knox frowns down at his hands. I can tell this is hard for him, sharing like this.

He takes a deep breath and instead of overthinking things like I normally do, I reach for his hand.

Interlace our fingers and squeeze. ‘That you can’t control what other people think,’ he says finally.

‘You can only do your best and try to be the best version of yourself. It’s okay to want things, and I don’t want you to quit.

I want you to keep fighting. Keep putting yourself first. Chasing down your goals.

Show your little girl that her mum can do anything she puts her mind to.

That it’s okay to have dreams – no, that it’s necessary to have dreams. Because dreams become plans, and plans become actions, and actions begin with intentions.

Our intentions are what make us who we are.

Anyone who says something nasty or cruel about someone else isn’t happy with themselves. And they aren’t worth your time.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’ Violet sniffs.

‘Say you’ll come to the Rail Trail Fun Run on Sunday. I’ll run the whole way with you,’ Knox promises.

‘So will I,’ I add.

‘I’ll slow you down,’ she says.

‘I don’t care. It’s not about time for me,’ Knox says, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

He lifts his gaze and our eyes meet. ‘Running used to be an escape for me. But now it’s about connection.

To myself and the people I care about. I’d be honoured to run with you both on Sunday.

’ He pauses. ‘Just promise you’ll think about it. ’

‘I feel so silly,’ Violet whispers.

‘It’s perfectly natural to have a wobble or two when you’re trying to do something hard,’ Knox finishes and I swear to God, I’ve never been more attracted to him. The way that he speaks to people says so much about his character. And it leaves me wanting more.

As Violet rings off with a promise to think about the run, Knox sighs and flexes his hands around the steering wheel.

‘More advice from Eugene?’ I ask.

His eyes close. ‘More like trying to remember to give myself grace when I need it.’

His expression is anguished and little lines appear between his eyebrows. I want to lean over and smooth them away. See if he feels calmer when my hands are on him.

‘I don’t agree with her, you know.’

Knox doesn’t open his eyes; he just shakes his head. ‘Neither do I. Those people are assholes. But her feelings are her feelings. Just because we view a situation differently doesn’t change the impact it has on someone else. I hope we convinced her.’

If Violet turns up on Sunday, it won’t have anything to do with me. That was all Knox.

‘That’s not what I meant.’

Knox twists towards me, his eyes opening slightly.

‘I don’t think she was right about things being easy for you. Not at all. And maybe they haven’t been for a long time.’

His chest rises and he sits up in his seat, giving me his full attention.

‘You put everyone else first,’ I continue. ‘It’s why you’re fighting so hard for Eugene and Alizée’s. Because maybe you know what it’s like to be left behind. Or to lose something you really cared about.’

Knox’s mouth opens slightly, his breath coming out in a long, slow exhale.

‘And maybe you don’t get to hear things like this enough,’ I say, more quietly now.

‘Like what?’ He licks his lips.

‘I really like you, Knox Watson. You’re a good person who tries their best every day.

And you’re always looking for ways to be better.

I always like being with you. You make me believe in myself.

’ I pause and gather the rest of my courage, which is ridiculous, because I’ve already confessed that I like him as if we’re two kids in primary school with no idea of what the world’s really like.

But I want him to get the full impact of this next bit.

‘In fact, you always make me feel like the version of myself that I most want to be.’

Without realising, I’ve been inching closer to him. The gear stick digs into my side, but I don’t care.

‘I like you, too,’ he says, and the butterflies that I’m always trying to ignore when I’m with him start beating their wings furiously in time with the rain that thrums steadily against the roof of the car.

When did that even start? But it fades away to nothing when our gazes meet, because my senses are full of Knox.

The way his mouth has hitched to the side in the shyest smile I’ve ever seen on his face.

How he still smells like eucalyptus soap, but it’s mixed with the musky scent of hard work.

My hand settles on his chest, and I feel the thump of his heart.

So strong and sure. Like him. How he’s always been for me. The way I want to be for him.

Something flickers in his eyes. A hesitancy that makes my body cool but then he blinks.

Shakes his head. ‘Fuck it,’ he mutters, drawing me close and finally – finally – pressing his lips against mine.

He doesn’t muck around or leave me with any questions about his intentions.

His fingers twist in my hair, his tongue swiping at my lips.

I sink into him. There’s no other way to describe it. Because every look, every touch – hell, every run – we’ve shared has led us here. To kissing in a tiny car in the rain. Windows all fogged up, the moment totally private, just ours.

‘Gen,’ Knox murmurs against my mouth, and I swear on Taylor Swift’s life that no one has ever said my name so reverently. I could get drunk on the way he says my name. I want to hear it again and again.

‘Mmhmm?’ I answer, nipping at his jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble, not ready to let this end. Our Getz-shaped bubble could burst at any second, and I don’t want it to.

He presses his forehead against mine and our breaths mingle. ‘I really like you.’

Lots of men – well, not lots, a handful – have said this to me over the years.

But never like this. Like they actually know me and see me, which makes Knox’s declaration sweeter than my beloved opera cake.

Better than the high that follows a good training session.

The nicest of all nice compliments. Because it’s real.

‘And I really like kissing you.’

My blush is instantaneous. I’ve been transported back to my teens. Heady with the excitement of a crush and the limitless possibilities that youthful ignorance brings with it. I want to bask in it. To give myself over to the feelings that Knox stokes inside me. Let myself have this.

‘Let me take you out,’ he says, his eyes earnest. His heart speeds up under my hands, the solid thump transforming into a sprint.

‘Like on a date?’

‘When we get back from the Rail Trail, I want to take you out properly. Dinner somewhere nice or whatever else you prefer. Please say yes.’

He traces my lips with his thumb and follows the motion with his mouth. And when my tongue duels with his in a playful game, I can’t stop my happiness from bubbling out, infusing one simple word with a lightness I haven’t felt in a long time. ‘Yes.’