Breathe, Annie, Breathe (20 page)

Matt unsnaps my knee brace and Bridget hands him an ice pack. A peeled banana appears in my hand. Thank goodness. I don’t think I could’ve peeled it myself. I stuff it in my mouth, nearly choking on it. I just got sick but I could eat an entire grocery store. Matt lifts a cup of lemon Gatorade to my lips. I take a sip but end up spilling the rest all over my blue tank top. The yellow blends with the blue to make a gross-looking green spot on my chest.

He moves to help Liza stretch and Bridget is making Andrew take Tylenol. This is crazy. If I barely made it through twenty-two miles, how will I survive twenty-six?

Kyle never even made it to twenty-two miles. The furthest he ever ran was twenty. Just thinking of that makes the tears pour down my face even harder. He never made it here. I’m not sure I can make it again.

“Matt, I can’t,” I ramble. “I can’t do the race. How am I gonna run four more miles? It’s too much. It hurts. It hurts.”

“Annie, you got this,” Matt replies softly. “I won’t let you hurt yourself. Your knee’s barely swollen today. Our exercises are paying off—”

“I can’t,” I say through my tears. “My stomach. I can’t.”

Two hands grasp my ankles. Jeremiah kneels in front of me. “Annie. You are not quitting. You can do this, understand?”

Snot is pouring out of my nose.

“Annie,” Jeremiah says again. His voice sounds far away. “Drink this. Now.”

Another cup appears in front of me. “I can’t. I can’t. It hurts.” My stomach feels like it got turned inside out. I lean over and get sick again, right in front of him. I clutch my side. He suddenly stands up. I grossed him out.

But then I feel him sitting down behind me, stretching his legs to cradle mine. His arms circle my middle. “I’ve got you. Relax.” I lean against his chest, working to catch my breath. Matt glances away from examining Andrew’s ankle and smiles when he sees his brother with me.

Jeremiah whispers in my ear, “You are going to finish this for him. You
will
.”

That just makes me cry harder. I blink away my tears, staring at Jeremiah over my shoulder.

“Kyle’s counting on you, Annie.”

I bounce up and down on my toes.

Liza, Andrew, and I are in the corral for people aiming to finish the Bluegrass Half Marathon in two hours and thirty minutes. Excitement ripples through the crowd and people cheer for no reason at all. The race starts in less than ten minutes and I can’t wait.

Jeremiah slips into my corral and kisses me. “Good luck, Winters. I’ll meet you at the finish line.”

“You too,” I reply, and he smiles over his shoulder at me before disappearing toward the first corral where the best runners have gathered.

Liza and Andrew start making embarrassing “wooo!” noises at me.

“I hate y’all,” I grumble, and they laugh.

“Are you guys together yet?” Liza whispers to me.

I shake my head. Jeremiah and I have been making out and sleeping over with each other for a month—never going further than second base, but I’m still not ready for a relationship with a guy who lives on the edge. The space between us makes me feel safe…and a bit antsy. It would be nice to tell him how much he means to me—that maybe there is more than one person for everybody—but I feel that would cement us together. I don’t think my heart could survive losing another person so special to me…

“You need to get on that,” Liza adds, nodding in Jere’s direction.

“You’re one to talk,” I whisper back, throwing a glance at Andrew.

I’ve been at college for a month and a half. It’s only three weeks until the Country Music Marathon, and today is the last time I’ll run a long distance before then. Matt says it’s time to taper off, so we’ll be in good shape for race day.

I totally get why people run races. After months and months of hard work, the excitement is like nothing I’ve experienced before. It’s the night before Christmas.

A gun fires. Runners cheer. The crowd edges forward, and it’s so cramped, it takes a little while before we can start jogging. But then it’s hard to keep my pace in check—so much adrenaline floods my body, I want to take off like a bottle rocket. It’s a good thing Liza and Andrew are here with me to control my pace.

When I was a kid running laps around the playground in gym class, I thought running was the most boring thing ever. But running a race is not boring. Not boring at all.

“Oh. My. God,” Liza says, pointing at five Speedo-clad guys with American flags painted on their faces.

“How is running in those comfortable?” I blurt.

“I don’t know, but it’s plenty comfortable for me to look at. Not to mention patriotic.” She laughs naughtily. I make a gagging sound. I did not need to see that.

Crazy people are wearing crazy costumes. One guy is dressed as a fairy? Another is wearing a pink gorilla suit. A group of guys in Batman masks cut holes in their shorts so their butts are hanging out. They call themselves the Bare Butt Batmans.

Liza loves them, of course.

Three miles into the race, as beautiful vistas of the Great Smoky Mountains come into view, a man in front of me trips. “Pothole!” somebody yells, and I hop over it just in time. Other runners grab the man who tripped and help him to the side of the course. My heart doesn’t stop pounding hard for a few minutes. What if I had fallen in the hole two weeks before the full marathon? What if I’d twisted my knee? An icy chill rushes through me.

I love the bluegrass bands stationed along the course. We cross over creeks and the Watauga River, passing factories, barns, and cornfields. A pastry chef gives out cookies when we run past her restaurant on Main Street and the three of us have never been so excited to see dessert. The sun soars higher and higher in the sky as the race goes on, but I never feel truly tired. I only have to stop to use the bathroom once. All my training pays off.

I cross the finish line in 2:35 and do a silly pose for the automatic camera taking pictures of runners. Andrew high-fives Liza and me, and she and I hug. We scream “wooo!” together and bounce around like kids at recess, proud we finished. Compared to the twenty-two mile run we did two weeks ago, this race was a cinch.

It was a rest day.

A race volunteer hangs a medal around my neck and another drapes a crinkly silver cape around my shoulders. It looks like aluminum foil but feels soft and keeps me warm. My heart starts to slow down as I weave through the crowd to find what I need most: a snack.

Andrew, Liza, and I grab bananas off a table, then head to the tree where Matt’s large blue flag hangs from a branch. It lets our team know where to meet.

I walk up to Bridget. “Hey, have you seen Jeremiah? Or Matt?”

Her eyes are bloodshot. “They went to Vanderbilt hospital.”

“What?” I drop my banana on the ground. “Why?”

“Jeremiah got hurt during the race. He fell off a bridge—”

I don’t even stop to hear the rest. I grab my bag from the storage truck, pull out my car keys, and sprint to the parking lot.

•••

This race was supposed to be safe! How could he fall off a bridge? Was it the long stretch over the Watauga River at mile eight? Did the medics rescue him and take him by ambulance before I even reached that part of the race? I didn’t hear any sirens or see any police cars blazing by.

A memory flashes in my mind. Sirens blaring during a thunderstorm. The moment, an hour later, when Mr. Crocker knocked on my front door to tell me
he
was gone.

I drive to Nashville as fast as I can, speeding through yellow lights, barely stopping at stop signs.

I never got a chance to tell Kyle good-bye. That I loved him.

On his way home from my place our last night, after we made up and got back together, there was a torrential downpour. He saw a car veer off the road into a ditch, and when he rushed out of his car to help the elderly man who’d crashed, another car slipped off the road and hit my boyfriend. During his eulogy, his brother Connor said Kyle died just the way he would’ve wanted to: helping somebody.

•••

On
the
last
night, Kyle and I stood in the doorway of my trailer.

Nick sat a few feet away watching the World Series on TV. The noisy game and noisy rain made it hard to hear what my boyfriend was saying.

“I’ll pick you up for school,” he said, kissing me for what must’ve been the hundredth time that night. I would never get tired of his kisses. His chocolate brown eyes were happy when he said he’d buy me a chai latte before he picked me up in the morning.

“How can you leave during the middle of the game?” Nick asked.

“No more baseball for me this year. I can’t believe we lost to Philly in the playoffs again,” Kyle replied.

“And you call yourself a baseball fan.”

I knew it wasn’t about the baseball at all. My brother liked having another guy around the house and it thrilled him I was getting back together with my boyfriend after a month apart.

“Maybe you should wait for the rain to clear out,” I said when the rain started pelting the roof. “Call your parents and tell them you’re staying here until the storm is over.”

He kissed me. “I’ll be fine.”

I handed him a newspaper to cover his head and he dashed into the night. He honked, and I waved from the porch, not caring that I was getting all wet.

“Bye, Annie!” he yelled out the window.

I smiled, filled with hope. We were back together. Everything was going to be just fine.

•••

At the hospital, I park in an area that clearly says “no parking” but I don’t care if I get towed. I jet into the emergency room. The front desk lady tells me he’s in room five. Before she can even ask if I’m friend or family, I sprint down the hallway, my sneakers squeaking on the hospital floor.
Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

Tears are gushing down my face when I find Matt and their father. Mr. Brown is pacing back and forth. I rush up to Matt and hug him. When I pull away, Mr. Brown gives me a weak smile and hands me a Kleenex. Thanking him, I take it and wipe my nose.

Matt rubs his thumb over the medal hanging from my neck and smiles. “You finished.”

Who cares about me right now? “How is he?” I start to open the door but Matt grabs my arm.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

Ignoring him, I shove the door. I have to know. I can’t lose him. I can’t. The door swings open.

“I told you, I’m not wearing the gown!” Jeremiah shouts at a nurse. He’s cradling his arm. “You don’t need to take my shorts off for this procedure.”

“Sir, this is hospital policy. You will wear a gown!”

All the air rushes out of me when I see he’s okay. I charge him. Hug his neck. Plaster my lips to his. With one arm, he yanks me up against his chest and deepens the kiss.

“That was nice,” he murmurs when we break apart. “What was that for?”

“I thought you were dying!” I desperately pat his chest and legs and face. All intact. When I grab his shoulders, he cringes and yelps in pain. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Annie. Why would you think I’m dying?”

“I heard you fell off a bridge.”

“A footbridge,” he says with a laugh. “Some asshole cut me off during the race and I fell into a creek. I think I dislocated my shoulder.”

I press my forehead to his as tears continue to fall down my face. Happy tears. My body sags against his. My hands shake. I process what he said.

A footbridge? Considering all his crazy BASE jumping stunts and motocross and bungee jumping, it never occurred to me he could get hurt during a regular race. A race that I just ran myself. Anything can happen. Anything. Anytime, to anyone. We have to live now. Now, now, now.

“I love you,” I blurt, and a rush of white-hot heat fills me.

His blue eyes light up. “I love you too.”

And I love this moment. Love it. Laughing, we start kissing again. I get into it and accidentally jostle his shoulder, making him yelp for a second time.

“That’s it,” says the nurse. “It’s time for your X-rays. Now put that gown on.”

“I don’t need a gown! You’re X-raying my shoulder, not my butt.”

“Jeremiah Brown,” I say. “Put that gown on right now.”

“No.”

“Right. Now.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, untying the drawstring on his shorts one-handed.

“I like her,” says a voice from the hall.

“Daaaad,” Jeremiah whines. I can hear Matt laughing.

“I’ll be in the waiting room, okay?” I say, and Jeremiah grabs my half-marathon medal and pulls me close for another kiss.

“I love you.”

I laugh. “You already said that.”

“I’ve never said it before. I like it…I think I’ll keep saying it.”

We grin at each other, and relief flows through my body until the door slams open, startling me. I jump. Mrs. Brown appears, her short brown hair disheveled, her face streaked red with tears. Clearly she also got the message that Jeremiah fell off a bridge. Why did no one bother to clarify what kind of bridge it was?

She rushes forward and hugs her son hard. “Thank goodness you’re all right,” Mrs. Brown says, and the nurse tsk tsks. She’s probably never seen such commotion over a dislocated shoulder.

“I wish you’d stop racing,” she says with a trembling voice.

Over her shoulder, Jeremiah rolls his eyes at me. “It was a regular half marathon, Mom.”

“I can’t stand this,” she says, releasing him from the hug. “Every time I answer the phone, I worry someone is calling to tell me you’re hurt…or worse. I got six calls from the hospital last year. I don’t want to pick you up from the hospital anymore, son—”

“It could’ve happened to anybody,” I interrupt. His mom meets my gaze, and I want to dare her to say something else to me, a person who’s suffered a huge loss. “Jeremiah was doing the safest race ever. He just got the short end of the stick on this one.”

“But he has the worst luck when it comes to sports. Why can’t he just join a Bible Study?”

Jeremiah looks completely appalled by that idea, and that makes me laugh. I can’t deny he takes risks, but I’m not going to swaddle him in bubble wrap to keep him safe.

“Please stop doing this to me,” she says, and I can see in her glistening eyes how much she loves him. “Please.”

“Mom,” Jeremiah starts, “it’s not fair to make me decide between my family and doing something I love. You know I’ve cut back. I can’t truly feel anything unless I put myself out there.”

“Agreed,” I say with a smile. He gives me a grateful look.

“It sucks that I’m trying to make you happy so you’ll let me come around the house and see my sisters…and you haven’t noticed that at all. I’ve given up a lot.”

His mom ruffles his hair and shuts her eyes. “I appreciate that you’re taking better care of yourself. I don’t like the things you do…” She pauses to glance over at me. “We can talk about this more later.”

He grins. “I’m definitely willing to talk. We can discuss how I want to go skydiving again.”

“Young man, that is not the kind of discussion I was thinking of.”

“But PopPop got me another gift certificate!”

Matt and his father enter the room to join the argument about whether Jeremiah can go skydiving again, but I just hold his hand, thinking about what he said.

If you don’t put yourself out there, if you don’t take risks, you can’t truly feel.

And I’m ready to feel again.

•••

“So we’re gonna try this?”

“Yeah, let’s see where it goes,” I reply.

“Thank the Lord,” he says with a smile, sweetly kissing my cheek. I turn to catch his mouth with mine, grasping his T-shirt in my hands, careful to mind his sling.

The morning after my first official half marathon, we’re lounging in my bed, discussing a relationship. Vanessa is visiting Rory in Knoxville, so Jeremiah slept over and we had the room to ourselves. I took care of him all night, giving him his painkillers and icing his shoulder. He liked having his own personal nurse. And I liked kissing him constantly. I couldn’t keep my lips off him.

Speaking of. I cozy up and slip a hand under his T-shirt, touching his rock-hard stomach. His pretty blue eyes light up and I know I love this guy. I press my lips to his, kissing him deeply, then trail kisses down his neck and lower. Soon he stealthily steals my pajama bottoms, which takes skill considering he only has one arm right now. I steal his shorts in retaliation, leaving him in black boxer briefs. Then he pulls me on top with his good arm, throws my tank top on the floor, and gently dips his hand into my pink panties. And wow it feels great.