Page 5 of One Last Run

Pete cleared her throat. “I’m not picky.”

Danica looked away, fidgeting with her embroidery hoop.

Danica was so different from her. That’s what had caused their last fight. What future could two people who wanted such different things actually have? They had been together because of their physical proximity, first on the same dorm floor, then eventually in the same apartment building near campus.

Back then, Pete felt their relationship was a matter of convenience for both. Fun and lighthearted, it required no label.That’s what she’d wanted back then, what she thought they’d both wanted. Did that make it hurt any less when they had to come to terms with it? Absolutely not.

And it wasn’t any easier now to see Danica Wendell fifteen years later, sitting on the floor with a needle and thread, sipping a stupid prebiotic soda.

Food deliveredand wine glasses refilled, they enjoyed their Pad Thai and vegetable spring rolls while allowing Danica to pretend she needed their input for the weeks’ worth of dinners. She planned the entire week, the grocery list, and even put them in pairs to make the cooking easier. Pete and Izzy would have pizza night, Kiera and Maggie were in charge of Taco Tuesday, and Danica was going to cook another night on her own. That left them without dinners for three nights, where they could explore a few local restaurants.

As the women ate and talked, Pete tried to commit the names of Maggie and Kiera’s children to memory. Learning that Danica’s wedding didn’t have a date or venue surprised her, even though their engagement had lasted almost two years. Danica seemed to either avoid or redirect every wedding planning question whenever it came up. Pete masked her surprise and delight by quickly drinking a large gulp of her beer. She was feeling a bit lightheaded by the time they cleaned up their dinner. Maggie, Kiera, and Danica all claimed to be exhausted, and headed towards the bedrooms, making plans for an early morning of picking up their rental gear.

Not ready to end the night just yet, Izzy and Pete grabbed their coats and blankets and relocated to the patio, turning on an outdoor heater to keep them warm. Pete sniffled, the cold air making her nose run. For being a tourist lodging area, it was so quiet outside. Maybe it was the way snow always dampenednoise, muffling the sounds of the world. She always loved that the most. The quiet, calmness of snow.

Pete’s breath fogged in front of her face and Izzy leaned against her for warmth, holding her wine glass through the blanket. Izzy was like a tiny Polly Pocket of a person, and they’d always been affectionate friends, but Pete realized how much she missed her best friend. She’d spent the better part of a decade quite alone, traveling and throwing herself into running Second Star. “This place is nice,” Izzy said in a hushed tone, like she didn’t want to disturb the silence too much, either.

Pete made a noise of agreement.

“Is it weird seeing everyone again?” Izzy asked.

“A little,” Pete confessed. “Not bad weird. Just weird weird.”

Izzy snorted, sipping her wine with her blanketed hands. “That makes no sense.”

Pete sniffled again, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath of the frosty night air. “We’re just such different people now. Kiera and Maggie have kids and spouses, and Danica’s a doctor.”

Izzy turned to look at Pete, raising a brow. “And what about you and me?”

“We’ve paved our own paths instead of following orders,” Pete said with a firm nod that reminded her exactly how much she’d drank at such a high elevation. Whew. She was definitely feeling that third beer now.

“I’m not exactly sure that being divorced and working at a bar at 37 is really the dream,” Izzy said. “It’s not like I’ve avoided settling down on purpose.”

“You’ve just been confusing settling down with settling,” Pete said, wrapping an arm around her oldest friend.

Izzy nodded but her posture shifted as she seemed to pointedly avoid Pete’s eye. “How’s seeing Danica again?”

“Did you notice she wasn’t even wearing a bra?” Pete asked, a cloud of fog forming as she exhaled in exasperation.

Izzy frowned. “No? Was I supposed to?”

“I just thought it was obvious.” Pete bristled, taking Izzy’s wine glass and stealing a sip. “But you know, it’s fine. It’s totally fine seeing her again. I’m fine.”

“You seem totally fine,” Izzy deadpanned. “I mean, I know the breakup was tough, but?—”

Pete cut her off with a forced snort of amusement. “Clearly there are no hard feelings because we’re both here.”

Izzy took her wine glass again, swirling the last sip of liquid around and around. “There are no hard feelings on your part? Really?” She tilted her head, and Pete didn’t appreciate the skeptical narrowing of her eyes.

Pete shook her head emphatically.

Izzy eyed her doubtfully but didn’t push her for more information. That was why she loved Izzy. She wasn’t trying to push Pete too far, or change her, or make her feel bad for falling off the map sometimes. Pete was like a discounted, imperfect piece of IKEA furniture and Izzy accepted her as-is.

“We should get to bed if we’re going to beat the worst of the lift lines tomorrow.” Izzy said, throwing the blanket off of them both.

Pete shivered and reached to turn off the heater, following her back inside. She couldn’t shake off the skeptical look that Izzy had given her. What had Izzy seen that Pete didn’t? As with most difficult feelings, Pete had packaged them up and compartmentalized them almost immediately, only to be unwrapped in her sporadic therapy sessions. Her feelings about Danica had stayed in the box for fifteen years, double-taped and super glued shut, and that’s exactly where she wanted them to stay this week.

CHAPTER 3

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