Page 28 of Sing Me Home
Charlie eyed us all. “How long of a race are we talking? The Sprint, Super, or Beast?” She’d stood at the finish line many times, cheering us on.
“Sprint,” I said. “Unless you want to do the Super. It’s on Sunday.”
“Sprint,” she said quickly. “We’ll stick with that.” She pointed at each of us. “Just know, you brought this on yourselves.”
Mom and Dad headed for the car, but I waited for Charlie at the bottom of the stairs. When she came out of her room and saw me there, she said nothing, only gave me a sad smile. No doubt, I was suffering from separation anxiety. I restrained myself from sleeping on her floor last night. But I’d tossed and turned until three a.m., worrying she might not be here when I woke up.
As she came down the stairs, it was impossible not to notice how thin her legs were. Mom bought her the tiniest running shorts known to man. Good thing Dad and I put creatine and protein powder in her drink to help her pack on some pounds.
She stopped on the second step from the bottom, leveling out our heights. “Cash.” She placed a hand against my cheek. “I’m not leaving, okay?”
“Maybe. But I’m still waiting at the bottom of the stairs.”
Dad honked from the garage.
Charlie groaned, rubbing her face. “This is going to be humiliating.”
I shrugged. “Probably.”
She smacked me in the shoulder. “Wow. Thanks for the support.”
“Hey, I’m just managing expectations.”
ten
Charlie
Fifteen minutes later, we drove deep into the heart of my grandparents' ranch. How much caffeine was in that pre-workout drink? Because I was actually excited. Ford parked next to all the other vehicles in the grass.
Cash jumped out as soon as the wheels stopped, raced around, and opened my door. As we walked toward our big, extended family, waiting fifty feet into the woods, he lifted his phone and angled it down at us, before hitting record. “What are we doing right now, Charlie?”
I smiled at the camera. “Spartan race training.” I swung my bent arm in an upward motion with mock pep.
“That’s right.” His brows flicked. “Running the Sprint looks a little different this time.”
He slipped the phone into his pocket and tossed his chin at our family waiting up ahead. “You guys ready for this?” he hollered.
Hoots and shouts of excitement ensued. Ford hadn’t lied. Everyone was there. Silas and Holden’s families, Anna and Blue and their kids, my family, and yes, even Theo, who looked like a pro with a Spartan headband cutting across his brow. Wait. My pregnant mom, too?
Even after five pregnancies, she was still so beautiful. Wearing leggings and a fitted tank top, her big old, adorable belly was out there for the whole world to see. Dad had that same look he always got around her—like he couldn’t believe she was his. I hoped I looked as good as her after having five babies.
You’re not having five babies. You’ll be lucky to have one.
My breath stuttered at the thought.
I looked around. “Where’s Liam?”
“He can’t do the race,” Cash said. “It’s in his contract—he’s not allowed to compete in anything outside of team training.”
“And Sage?”
Cash had filled me in on everyone’s lives over the past few days. Apparently, James had proposed to his long-term girlfriend at Christmas. They’d been together since they were juniors in high school, when James had finally gotten up the nerve to ask her out. They were getting married at Dupree Family Beach Week next summer.
Cash’s forehead wrinkled with concern. “She’s the same.”
Meaning, she passed out whenever she over-exerted herself, became dehydrated, or even stood up too fast. It was a condition called Vasovagal…something or other.
A pretty blond—about my age, medium height, with a chin-length bob and wide green eyes—hung on Griffin’s arm. She pushed up on her tiptoes to pat down his cowlick but he was still too tall. He crouched to help her out. Griff was the only son of Lemon and Silas who’d inherited his mom’s red hair. But good luck with the cowlick. That thing had been sticking up his whole life.
