Page 2 of Words We Didn't Say

“What about those curtain bangs and, um, my goth phase or the, um…” I huffed out a breath. Alright, Andie had a point. No one could stop me once I’d set my mind to something.“I’ve learned my lesson this time, okay? No more scheming. I’m done.” When Andie’s frown deepened, I doubled down. “I swear.”

But even as the promise tumbled out of my mouth, my mind shifted into gear, speeding full throttle towards a brilliant new plan.

Supporting the fun run didn’t have to end with me scrubbing sweat off my face or sniffing my armpits to make sure I’d rolled on enough mineral deodorant. Where did I excel? Talking. People.Instead of charging ahead, I could slip to the back, motivate the stragglers, and cheer everyone on. I’d let others shine—for once.

I twittered a wicked laugh.

“That’s gotta be an all-time record,” Andie said.

I shot her an innocent look. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh. Sure thing, troublemaker.” She nudged her shoulder into mine. “Dig deep, finish the run, and we’ll get you a bacon roll. The end is just around the corner, up those stairs—”

I groaned.“Morestairs?”

“There’s like…two…”

My posture perked up from slumped over to standing tall. “Just two?”

“Or, you know…” Andie lifted a shoulder. “Twenty.”

My eyes narrowed. “Twenty.”

“Maybe forty. Hardly any.” She waved away my impending heart attack like it was nothing. “Come on.”

“I want two bacon rolls out of this,” I grumbled.

Andie started jogging down the boarded trail.

And I lagged behind.

Again.

“Come on, loser!” she called.

And I was struggling along just fine—slow but steady—dodging the barbs Andie tossed back at me on the sea breeze until a man pushing an empty stroller passed me, a toddler wailing on his hip.

My footsteps slowed.

It was just some dude. Somedad.But the sight of that man’s strong arms around his child was a crowbar that wedged in the crack in my chest, prying it open, the morning sun threatening to wake up the secret sleeping deep inside me.

The dream of a family.

The impossible.

I’d skated past the dreaded 3-0 without a breakdown. Some people stressed about missing milestones—a husband, kids, settling down—and I was living my best life, wasn’t I? As thirty-two hurtled closer, everyone still believed the only thing I craved was collecting more designer shoes to stuff in my closet. They had no idea. I ached for a family of my own more than anything in the world.

I pressed a hand to my chest to stop the feeling from spreading. Too late. The thread of loneliness around my heart twisted until it knotted tight. My chest heaved, but no air got in my lungs.

I…can’t…

Defeated, I flopped on the bottom step, my head falling between my knees. The dribble down my cheeks wasn’t tears. The salty sting was sweat. I never cried.

“Hey.” A man. Footsteps padded closer. “Um, are you…okay?”

Just peachy.

Would the humiliation ever end? I quickly dashed my palm over my eyes and craned my neck, ready to shoo my good Samaritan on his way so I could crumble in peace.

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