Page 122 of Alphas Like Us
She frowned more and shook her head before groaning into the pillow. I rubbed her back, and we started talking aboutswimming.
At the speakeasy, I think about that moment in the treehouse. Especially as her bodyguard rests against the bar, out of the camera’sframe.
Akara tells Jack, “The time was Sulli’s personalbest.”
My cousin ties the end of her braid. “It’s still too fucking slow, Kits. I couldn’t even qualify with thattime.”
“But backstroke has never been your thing, Sul,” Akara reminds her. “It’s a good time.” He saunters around the camera and ends up standing beside Thatcher Moretti further down thebar.
And I spot my newbodyguard.
He’s been at a wooden table guarding the entrance. Sky-scraping tall, bulky, bald, bearded, and the former bodyguard to LorenHale.
My dad requested that Bruno Bandoni be transferred to my detail. He told me, “You don’t need to deal with a new inexperienced bodyguard, bud. Takemine.”
Thanks to my dad, it’s been an easier transition. But there’ll be times where I search for my bodyguard. Expecting to see that widening know-it-all smile and the cocky raise of hisbrows.
Instead, I meet a stringent severe face, and the wind dies in mysails.
I turn to Sulli who stretches over the bar and snatches a cherry. “Why are you swimming backstroke?” I ask since she used the wordqualify.She’s not competing anymore, so I’mconfused.
“I need a goal,” Sulli tellsme.
I go rigid. “What?”
Jane looks between us and pops an olive in a martiniglass.
“Moffy—”
“Youhavea goal. The ultra,” I say toughly. “It’s been your goal for months, and that’s not fucking changing.”It’s not changing because ofme.
Sulli bites the cherry off its stem. “The course can be fucking dangerous solo. It doesn’t feel like a good idea to do it alone, and my dad’s bad knee can’t handle theterrain—”
“Sulli,I’m running this marathon with you,” I say, adamant. Not backing down. “I’ve already startedtraining.”
She coughs on a cherry. “What? You’re in a sling,Mof.”
Jane shakes her head at me like I’m a disaster tomyself.
“I can do a lot in a sling.” I’ve spent most of my free time in a gym. My hamstrings and quads are sore from the nonstop leg days, but I’m strengthening every muscle until I can work on my right arm and shoulder. “And I ran a mileyesterday.”
Sulli lookshorrified.
“Alright, it was a walk, not a run,” I clarify. “A PT was there so I wouldn’t kill myself.” I recognize that I need another person in the room to stop me from overexertingmyself.
And I’m not proud of my lack of self-restraint.
Sulli contemplates this now. “You really think you can run a250k?”
250 kilometers in 7 days. That’s 155miles.
InChile.
ForSulli.
“I promise I can.” I nodrepeatedly.
Sulli hesitates before noddingback.
