Page 68 of Get Me to the Starting Line

One, two—

Nope, still dying.

“Distract me,” I plead.

“What?”

“I need you to talk to distract me. Please,” I tack on at the end.

He’s quiet for another minute and I’m about ready to collapse.

“I told you I was raised by my dad,” he says quietly. His breaths are slow and even—he’s not struggling at all. I hate him for it.

Then his words register in my brain. He’s still silent, as if he’s not going to say anything more, but I know Julien well enough now to know silence is what he needs to process. I force myself to stay quiet while he formulates his next words—not an easy feat for me.

“My mom left us when I was a baby. I never knew her, and my dad remarried so many times I’ve lost count.”

Another beat of silence.

“He tried his best but he was sad. Distant.”

I hang on to his words knowing each is a gift, practically salivating at this glimpse into who he is.

“Hockey was the place where I felt at home. And as I grew up, and grew bigger, it became a safe place for me, even though I was alone in my net.”

My heart lurches for this man. When I was barely a teenager, my dad died in a motorcycle accident right in front of me and my mom and sister. That night is a blur of lights and crying. Paige might have had nightmares, but I was numb. I dealt with it by taking control, even at a young age. Control was what got me through.

But at least I got the chance to know him for some of my life. And a parent dying is a different kind of pain than being left.

“When I was a teenager, my dad was gone a lot, and being alone became my normal. It became uncomfortable to be around other people.”

So much makes sense.

“Except with you,” he admits.

The difficulty of running has retreated to the back of my mind. Now, I’m swarmed with imaginings of a young Julien being raised in a quiet house, playing on a team but being alone. I want to hug him.

“Levi is lucky to have you,” he says quietly.

I don’t say anything. I know he doesn’t need or want me to. We move forward together in silence. It’s funny, but I see Levi in Julien sometimes. Especially since he mentioned he didn’t talk for a while too.

He’s similar to Levi in the way he observes the room, the way he’s only comfortable around me and the people who love him. Levi, who is getting so big he’s heavy tocarry around.

I can see it, Levi growing up to be strong and silent. Protective, caring. Like Julien.

My heart is running away with me.

Speaking of running, is this what Paige meant when she said running strips you raw to the very base of yourself, illuminating your truest feelings? I think she may be right, because these feelings are too big for my body, too big for right here and right now.

My body hums with too many emotions. I can’t think around them—they’re insistent. I’m going to blame running. Running is at fault for thinking I might be falling for him. It’s the running high.

I think I understand now why Paige didn’t reach out to Adam for all those years. Chalking her experience up to race adrenaline makes sense. Because I can’t possibly be falling for a man I’ve known for two months and almost hated for half that time. Hated might be too strong a word. Detested? Loathed? Disliked?

“Four kilometres,” Julien says, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts.

I feel absolutely out of control, my heart racing with the need to slow everything down. My steps. My heart. Using all that pent-up energy that didn’t find a satisfying release last night, I pull forward.

With only one kilometre left, I need to get these feelings out of my body, out of my head. Instinctively, my feet move faster, arms pumping as I suck in deep breaths.

---