Page 40 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

Darius

D arius knew he should’ve blocked everyone from the group chat the second he’d left it. He hadn’t, out of some misplaced sense of responsibility over their marathon times. Now he was regretting it.

Chi

You need to fix this.

Darius

Fix what?

Chi

Jamie’s depressed and says he isn’t racing.

Fuck. He hadn’t thought this would affect Jamie so badly, which was a bit na?ve, probably.

He just always seemed like he could let things roll off of him, like his snark and general enthusiasm for life could shield him from anything.

Darius should have known better. He’d seen the real Jamie over their short time together.

Of course, he was letting the press get to him.

Darius

He’s blocked me everywhere. What do you expect me to do?

Chi

I don’t know, but you need to fix it.

One of the perils of starting to use your mobile again after days of ignoring everyone was that it was a bit overwhelming. For Darius in particular, the low contact combined with his name being splashed across sordid headlines had earned him a summons out to the family manor.

As if he didn’t have enough to deal with.

He made the long drive alone. A depressing contrast to his last visit there, where Jamie had been a steadying presence beside him.

“You wanted to see me?” Darius stood awkwardly in the doorway to his father’s immaculate study.

The walls were lined with books, and a whiskey decanter sat to the side of the large mahogany desk.

This was the room that had taught Darius to bury himself, to hide his emotions behind a hardened shell—though arguably, he’d truly perfected the art at school.

Darius eyed the small photo of Abebe Bikila on the wall, somehow hoping the picture of the legendary marathoner would give him strength.

The Duke was standing at the large sash window, gazing out onto the grounds.

He beckoned Darius over to his side. “Do you remember when you fell into that pond?” he asked.

Darius didn’t. But his father continued.

“Couldn’t have been more than three years old.

We were hosting a garden party, and you’d taken off running after a squirrel or some other creature.

Impossibly fast, even then.” A strange expression had come over his father’s face, and Darius didn’t know what to do with it.

“You slipped on the hill and went headfirst into the pond,” he continued. “I was terrified. I ran down to reach you, but by the time I got there, you’d already clambered out and were proudly pointing out the interesting algae you’d collected on your arms.”

Darius met his father’s gaze.

“I don’t like seeing all these headlines, Darius. Your friend…” his father started.

Something inside Darius snapped. “You can call him my boyfriend, or my ex, I suppose. Refusing to acknowledge it won’t make me less gay.”

His father inhaled sharply. “Is that what you think of me?” he walked over to the whiskey decanter and poured out two small measures. “I was hard on you, growing up. I know that. There’s no excuse for it. But I never once wanted you to be anything other than yourself, Darius.”

Darius accepted the glass. “I can read between the lines.”

“Can you?” His father swirled the amber liquid slowly before taking a long, drawn-out sip.

Darius stared down at the glass, some sort of heirloom no doubt. Everything in this mausoleum of a house was.

There was an impenetrable silence in the room.

Even the birds in the garden seemed to have quieted.

His father strode quickly across the room to the deep green leather sofa and sank into it, still nursing his whiskey.

With a wave of his hand, he summoned Darius to join him.

He perched himself awkwardly on the edge of the seat, back straight and alert.

“It can be difficult to carry the weight of a community on your back. I failed at it, and in doing so, I failed you, and I failed myself. I, I didn’t want that for you, Darius.

Didn’t want you to have to feel that burden, but I apologise if my reticence came across as disapproval.

I’d never seek to dictate who you choose to be with, Son. ”

The weight of the moment didn’t fail to register with Darius as his father continued. “I lost someone I loved once, you know,” he said. There was an unreadable look on his face, something broken that Darius had never seen or imagined on his emotionless father.

Darius scrunched his nose in confusion. “Mum?”

His father exhaled sharply. “No. Though I don’t think I will ever forgive the way she left you and Selena, I don’t blame your mother for straying from me. Not anymore. I was a hard man to live with then, and she knew she’d never really had my full heart.”

That was a revelation Darius hadn’t expected.

His mother’s affair had torn their family apart.

It had been splashed across the tabloids for months, causing his father to retreat into himself.

Darius had been left to weather the storm publicly as just a young teenager with a little sister to protect.

His father took another deep swig from his glass.

“Before. Before your mother. I loved someone so completely, I thought nothing could come between us,” he continued.

Now that he had started, it seemed like there was some sort of deep need within him to get the story out.

“But your grandfather didn’t approve,” he chuckled darkly.

“And made it very clear just what would happen if I continued the relationship.”

“He threatened you?” Darius asked.

His father’s eyes were burning with anger. “He threatened them.”

Darius understood. Regardless of where he stood with Jamie now, he’d do anything to protect him. Even if it meant he could never be with him again.

“That you seem to see me in even a slightly similar light to how I saw my father means I have failed you,” he said, meeting Darius’s gaze.

“I don’t expect this is something I can correct overnight.

But I will endeavour to do better by you, Darius, and I will never judge your choice of partner or try to come between you.

If there is one thing I know, though, it is that love is something worth fighting for, and that man I met— he loved you. ”

His father finished his glass, abruptly straightening as though to recover from the uncharacteristic display of emotion. “Your sister couldn’t get excused from school, but she’ll be at the marathon on Sunday. Are you still pacing it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure that’s still the right choice?” his father asked as he collected their barely touched glasses and set them aside.

Darius nodded. “I am, yes.”

His father sighed heavily. “If you do change your mind, I’m sure we can get you moved back into the elite field.”

Darius ignored the comment, and they fell into silence as they walked through the house.

On the drive back, Darius was glad to be alone with his thoughts instead of crammed into a busy train.

The tentative peace with his father had sparked a determination in him.

His family had been so closed off, even to each other, for so long, and he wanted to do better.

He wanted to be the type of person he’d been when he was with Jamie.

Taking the long way home for a chance to think, Darius let his thoughts drift to his time with Jamie and his passionate approach to everything and everyone he cared for.

A tiny kernel of an idea struck him, and he found himself detouring into South London.

He might not be able to win Jamie back, but he wanted to be the kind of man that he would have been proud to be with.

Darius barely had enough time to make it to the centre before closing, but by the time he’d returned to his townhouse that evening, he had the beginnings of something, and a meeting set with Jade for Monday to sketch things out properly.

The rest would come later. For now, he had to rest up.

Tomorrow was the London Marathon Expo, and he had a pacing flag to collect.

The London Marathon Expo was a major event in and of itself.

A veritable festival of running that took over the ExCel centre on the banks of the Thames before the marathon.

There would be talks by professional athletes—Darius had done one himself just a year ago—stands flogging all kinds of running gear, and of course, bib pick up.

As he exited the tube, Darius tapped his card against the sensor and walked out of the station.

He scanned the crowd around the ExCel centre warily.

Finally, he spotted someone he recognised and breathed a sigh of relief.

Alanna Michaels was a Paralympic marathoner who had taken gold at the last games.

Seeing a familiar face set him at ease, and he walked briskly towards her.

It was pathetic, but Darius just didn’t want to face walking in alone.

He felt like a self-conscious teenager again, as if everyone’s eyes were on him.

The massive concrete steps outside of London’s largest event venue were teeming with people from the station down to the docks.

Alanna stood out in her ParalympicsGB jacket, standing just to the side of a throng of people pushing their way into the centre.

He watched as a young girl approached her with her mother, and she chatted with them for a moment before hugging the girl and allowing her mother to snap a photo.

The girl beamed and walked away, chattering excitedly.

It seemed like everyone he knew was inspiring the next generation, overcoming real obstacles, and all Darius had managed this year was to ruin the reputation of the man he loved and fail to make the Olympic team.

“Alanna,” he said as he approached. There was a sad smile on her face.

Her smile broadened as she recognised his voice. “Sorry, no autographs today, Hewitt.”