Page 42

Chapter 42

APRIL

I ’m going to finish.

For Mom.

. . . For me.

My thigh just had to stop feeling like it was being electrocuted. Luckily, I had Billie and Trevor. They’d started walking with me when the cramps began at mile two.

My leg locked up for what felt like the hundredth time, and I grabbed hold of them to keep upright.

“It’s bad again?” Billie asked.

I nodded, groaning and digging my fingers into their shoulders. Every step, I fought the voice that told me to sit down. To give up. To go home.

“What’s going on?” My eyes shot open, but then I didn’t believe what I saw. It had to be a mirage because there was Gabe gliding to a stop on an ancient mountain bike, concern etched between his brows .

I think my heart stopped. After weeks of wishing he’d pick up the phone or stop by the shop or let me in, there he was. Rushing in to save me, to fix the hurt. It was so good to see him.

Then I slammed into reality. The reason it was so good to see him was because he’d shut me out.

“She’s having some intense quad cramps,” Trevor supplied.

“I’m fine,” I said through my teeth, forcing myself to move forward because, though the pain in my leg was intense, it was nothing compared to what Gabriel had done to my heart.

Gabe got just ahead of me, walking backward so he could get a look at the damage. He winced. “I can see the spasming.” He looked at Trevor. “There’s a first-aid tent not even a mile down. Can you see if they have any ice left? I need a cup’s worth.”

“Be right back,” Trevor said, seeming glad to have a task.

“Take the bike,” Gabe said, then he looked at me. “If you lie down, I can help you stretch it out.”

“I can’t do that,” I said, adjusting my grip on Billie and picking up the pace as the cramp relaxed. “I’m in the middle of a race.”

“Ten minutes out of seventeen hours probably won’t kill your race,” Gabe said. “However, taking an hour to finish each mile definitely will.”

Billie bent her head close to whisper, “You don’t have to forgive him, but maybe you should let him take a look.”

I tried to soldier forward, but then another cramp tore through my thigh. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit down so hard I thought I’d crack a molar. I crumpled against Billie until a strong hand wrapped around my arm, holding up my other side.

“Please,” Gabe begged. “Please let me help you.”

I opened my eyes to his dark ones. They were endless pits of misery. Still, I wanted to deny him because all I’d wanted since the incident at Clay’s house was for him to let me in, to let me help, but he’d locked me out. If I hadn’t been desperate for relief, I would have made him leave, but as it stood, the pain had worn me thin. Defeated, I nodded and let Gabe lead me just off the course to a grassy area.

“Lie down,” he said. “We’re going to stretch it out, then we’re going to hit the sodium and hydration hard.”

My head in the grass, I looked at the sun's placement in the sky. Gabe was fast, but it seemed early for even him to be done. A glance at my watch confirmed it was. Despite my anger, I had to know. “What was your finishing time?” I asked.

Gabe wrapped a large hand around my ankle and worked my leg in small circles.

“Gabriel,” I said, alarmed by his lack of an answer. “What was your time?”

He sighed, then stopped the circular movement to look at me. “I didn’t finish.”

Three words. They were just three words, but they towered in front of me. I thought of the way Gabe’s breath sawed out of him when he did his bike ride in my garage, the pool of sweat on the floor, the ice baths. He’d worked so hard for this.

“Tell me there was a reason you stopped other than me.” I thought of how he’d lost A-Team because of my wreck last year. It couldn’t be my fault again. “Tell me that you couldn’t hold down your nutrition, or you had a bike malfunction, or you have really bad blisters, or you just weren’t fucking feeling it today!”

He held my gaze.

“Dammit, Gabriel!” I pulled my leg away from him, shooting to a sitting position.

Billie cleared her throat. “I’m gonna . . . go see if Trevor needs help getting that ice.”

Neither of us acknowledged Billie’s exit, too wrapped up in our standoff.

“You do not get to do that.”

“Do what?” He tried to grab my leg again, but I yanked it away.

He gave me an exasperated look. Well, that made two of us. “You don’t get to sacrifice your race after ghosting me. That’s not fair!”

“I know.”

I didn’t want him to agree with me. I wanted a fight. “And I get that you were hurting, but so was I,” I said, surprised when my angry outburst converted to a dry sob—because I was too dehydrated for tears.

“April—”

He tried to get closer, but I stopped him, just like he’d stopped me at Clay’s house. “Don’t.”

Annoyed that we’d forgotten them, my muscles tightened again. I clutched my leg, fingernails digging into my skin as if I could squeeze the pain back into submission that way. My arms shook with the effort, and I had to press my mouth into my shoulder to keep silent through the pain. It felt like my muscles were trying to escape through my skin—Alien style.

Gabe gripped my shoulders, and despite my anger, the counterpressure kept me grounded. “Breathe,” he whispered, forehead pressed to mine. “Let me get you through this, and you never have to see me again, okay?”

I let out a sigh of relief as the cramp finally relaxed. Gabe gave me a reassuring squeeze before kneeling. I lay back, the grass tickling my ears as he worked my leg in circles again .

No longer consumed by pain, Gabe’s words finally settled. The idea of never seeing him again made it feel like the spasming had moved to my heart. “I don’t want that,” I said, sounding broken.

Gabe looked down at me.

“I don’t want to never see you again,” I clarified.

His exhale shuddered. “I don’t want that either.”

“Then why haven’t you answered your door or my calls? Why are you avoiding me?”

“Because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you.” The hurt was so plain on his face. “It scares me—how much I feel with you.”

“But that’s the thing. If you want any kind of future for us, then you will have to trust me with all your feelings—the good and the bad. Knowing my luck, it will be a lot of bad.”

“I want that.” He swallowed. “If that’s how I keep you, then give me the anger, the fear, the pain. I want it all if it’s with you.”

My stomach flipped, but my leg had to steal the show again. Gabe’s eyes shot to my thigh. In a flash, he tilted my toes so they pointed at my body, and then he leaned his weight onto my foot. I gasped, my leg protesting at first, but after a few seconds, relief, sweet relief, flooded my leg. It was as if my muscles had been in a game of tug-of-war, and the position forced the rope to drop. The cramp miraculously relaxed.

I let out a shaky exhale, shocked at the magic he’d worked.

“That a little better?” he asked.

“Yes.” If I’d had any tears left, I would have cried from relief. “So much better.”

He smiled slightly, then released my foot, moving my leg in circles again before pressing deeper. He worked silently for a long while, but the quiet was like a raincloud, gathering droplets by the second. It was only a matter of time until the downpour, and I didn’t know if this rain would soothe the drought or flood the lands.

“I want you to know that I started therapy,” he finally said. “And if you want to wait to be together until I’ve started going a while, I understand.”

“Gabe, stop.” He paused his circular motions to look at me. “It’s great that you are going to therapy. I think it will help you work through a lot of your pain.” I sat up, taking his hands in mine. His knuckles were still scabbed from the night he defended me. I brushed a thumb carefully around the wounds. “But I was never once scared of you.” I swallowed. “Only scared of losing you.”

His features softened. Emotion showed in the twitch of his jaw and the line between his eyebrows—the smallest of movements showing a powerful undercurrent of feeling.

We both leaned in. The day had been long, but the heartbreak had been more exhausting. Our lips meeting was a haven. Gabe sighed and pulled me closer. We were both sweaty and worn, but none of that mattered when Gabe’s lips, so gentle, brushed against mine. Lips I didn’t know if I’d ever taste again. I gripped his damp hair, desperate to keep this moment, afraid he might change his mind. Or that this was all some sort of illusion my delirious brain had drawn up after hours of racing.

Gabe’s kissing became more feverish, too, before he pulled back, gulping for air, forehead resting on mine. “I guess I should stop. You are in the middle of a race.”

I wanted to tell him this race was a lost cause anyway, but disappointment churned in my stomach at the thought of DNFing another year. Especially after he’d sacrificed his own race to save mine. So, I let him release me. Gabe pulled a bottle of pickle juice out of his backpack and unscrewed the cap. “I need you to drink all of this. ”

“We were supposed to win together,” I said glumly, thinking of Clay getting A-Team because of my cramps.

“Stop. Okay? Helping people is what I care about. Your win is my win.”

“I don’t know if I can make this a win.”

“You can,” Gabe said. “But you’ve got twenty-three miles to go and only six hours left. It’s going to be brutal. And if you want to go home, I’ll carry you off this course right now.”

Home. I’d never hear a sweeter word. The offer swung so succulently in front of me. The promise of shower and sleep and cuddles with Gabe could have made me weep. When you put on so many miles, your brain starts turning animalistic. It’s hard to remember your why. All you want to do is make the pain stop.

But I dug deep. I thought of Mom’s letter. I thought about Gabe. Hell, I thought about me. I’d worked this hard. I could rally for a few miserable hours.

“I’m going to finish this,” I said.

Gabe nodded. “I thought you’d say that.” He nodded toward the bottle in my hand. “Get to drinking. When Trevor returns with the ice, I’m going to massage your thigh with it. Then we get you back on the course.”

I did exactly as prescribed by my coach without whining or hesitation. I knew I'd have to rely on his wisdom if I had any hope of conquering the rest of the race. The stretch and the pickle juice chased away my cramps. However, I had to catch up on all the time I’d spent walking.

Gabe was there every step of the way—talking to distract me, offering encouragement when I felt doubtful, handing over water, giving me chews. I noticed he had the slightest limp to his gait. It was a miracle he was still upright. He’d completed his own one hundred thirty-four miles. Now he’d tack on another twenty-three. It made me want to collapse just thinking about it. I tried to tell him he could rest, that he didn’t have to run the entire thing with me, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“Together,” he said. “We finish this together.” I liked the sound of that, so I dropped the issue.

At mile thirteen, the halfway point for the run, I felt well enough to see past my own pain, and I had this surge of gratitude. For once, it didn’t feel like the universe was out to get me or even that it was a neutral observer, as I tried so hard to believe.

No. The universe had sent me Gabe—a guardian angel of a coach. The path to Ironman had been treacherous, but if the race hadn’t gotten canceled because of a storm, and if I hadn’t gotten the flu, and if I hadn’t had a crash that knocked me unconscious, and if Clay hadn’t dropped me, I never would have started a relationship with Gabe. We would have remained passing ships.

I wasn’t cursed. I was lucky.

Even thinking about all the bumps in the road this training season: my knee problems, the group ride landing on Friday the Thirteenth, Clay taking my pedal—all of it brought us closer together.

The realization made me feel stronger with each step.

The spectators certainly helped the cause. Some were just out there ringing cowbells and offering high-fives. Others had food offerings: M&Ms, chips, peanuts, orange slices, and the occasional alcoholic beverage, which I politely refused. My stomach didn’t need any help feeling queasy.

I’d seen every poster board message imaginable:

Your pace or mine?

You are stronger than you think!

The cool thing about hobbies: you don’t have to do them .

Incoming: Certified Badass!

Smile if you peed in the lake.

Go, TEAM TROUBLE!— Because Emily and Beck made an appearance. The diamond on Emily’s left hand winked in the setting sun, and as we ran on, I forced every detail Gabriel had to offer on the engagement, which was very limited being that he was a man.

Some spectators had been there from pre-sunrise to post-sunset. You would think the hype along the course would mellow out as the evening wore on, but it turned into a different kind of party.

I met Gabe’s mom, and I didn’t know it was possible to instantly adore someone by association, but there was this overwhelming sense of connection with her. I wondered if she felt it, too, because she pulled me in for an embrace, and even though it was brief, there was a lot of emotion in her grip.

Then she’d turned to Gabe and said something in Spanish, to which he replied with a kiss on her forehead before we took off jogging again.

At one tent, a group played music from a portable stereo. While the adults under the tent talked, a gathering of kids danced on a grassy slope, waving glow sticks. A little girl who looked about three or four had on a cape that flapped as she spun. It took me a moment to realize it was designed to look like butterfly wings. The little butterfly danced right next to the course, smiling and waving as we passed.

“Would you look at that?” Gabe said. “ Mariposa .”

“Magic,” I panted. And through the pain, fear, and exhaustion, I glowed from the inside.

Look for me in the butterflies.

Mom wasn’t here. But she was. She lived through me in the way I remembered her and did what she loved. I wasn’t losing her. She was right here.

Hours later, with only ten minutes to spare, we heard the cheering, and the red carpet came into view.

Gabe put a hand on my shoulder.

“This is your moment,” he said. “Go on ahead, and I’ll meet you on the other side.”

I nodded.

Mom, you are my why.

I journeyed down the red carpet, stadium lights paving the way, hardly seeing past the blur of tears.

As I crossed the finish line, the announcer boomed, “April Baird, you are an Ironman!” And I collapsed to my knees and just cried and cried. For the voyage. For my mom. For the mercy of the universe sending me Gabe.

Volunteers surrounded me, but it was my coach who got me back up. Gabriel held me. His arms were steady, but his voice shook as he said, “I’m so fucking proud of you, April.”

Freshly adorned with medals, a volunteer walked us all the way to the end of the corral, where we found Trevor, Billie, Gabe’s coach, and his mom.

Trevor pulled me in for a hug, and when I protested, saying I was too sweaty, he held me anyway. When we parted, Billie made like she meant to hug me too, then thought better of it, giving me a pat on the arm instead. I felt delirious looking at her. She had a beer in one hand and Mardi Gras beads around her neck. She followed my gaze.

“No one told me these races are pretty much a huge party. Hippie Hollow was hopping. ”

I laughed and shook my head, stopping when Gabe’s coach stepped forward. He looked between Gabe and me before giving a crisp nod. Then he extended a hand for Gabe to shake. “You did good, kid.”

Gabe found enough energy to radiate at that. His smile could have rivaled the stadium lights.

We sat on the concrete and ate our finisher pizza with our family and friends before finally calling it to make the trek to get our gear. Retrieving your bike from transition after seventeen hours of grueling fitness is borderline cruel and unusual, but we finally made it back to Gabe’s truck. Bikes in the back, asses on towels, sinking in the seat, Gabe looked like he was ready to pass out right there.

“The only thing I’m dreading about getting home—” Gabe said, eyes closed. “Taking my shoe off.”

I cocked my head, and he opened a single eye to peer at me.

“I think I’m going to find I have one less toenail.”

I winced. “That’s why you were limping.”

“It’s fine. It will probably grow back.”

“The glamorous life of being an Ironman.” We both laughed—loopy with exhaustion. “I just thought of something.” Gabe looked over, concerned by how my tone took a serious dive. “Now that the race is over, do I have to stop calling you Coach?”

He reached across the center console, albeit woodenly, until his hands met my cheeks. “Baird, do you think helping you finish an Ironman is all I have to offer?”

I licked my bottom lip, and even exhausted as he was, his eyes tracked the movement. “No. I’m sure you can teach me other things.” I laughed as the idea popped into my head. “Like Spanish.”

His thumbs stroked my jaw for a moment, and he swallowed. “Do you know what my mom said to me after meeting you earlier?”

I shook my head.

“Elegiste el amor.” Gabe brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear before translating. “You chose love,” he rasped.

I stopped breathing.

“And she’s right. I love you, April Baird.”

I had to fight to get my reply out, and when I did, I was crying again. “I love you, too, Gabe.”

His eyes shined, and his long fingers slid to the back of my head, pulling me closer. We breathed each other in. I thought of all the pain that had led to this moment. Each hardship was a stepping stone to Gabe. It had been such a difficult path to journey, but I’d take it every time if it meant being with him.

As his lips pressed into mine, the butterflies were back, and they were, in fact, pure magic.