Pepped Up and Ready (Pepper Jones #3) (21 page)

We cross the finish together, and I’m tempted to collapse in exhaustion right there, but Jenny throws an arm around my waist and it keeps me upright. She’s small but strong as hell.

We’ve placed fifth. Jenny and I tied, and we’ll be heading to Regionals together. Zoe finishes strong with her best time ever on a cross country course. My happiness oozes out, but I keep it in check. I can’t let it all out. If I do, my emotions will cripple me.

So I beg out of another celebration that night. Jenny and I are the only ones on our team who qualified for Regionals, and everyone else wants to party hard in recognition of the end of their season. Even the feeling of duty and obligation to support my teammates can’t get me to come out tonight. I claim that I’m getting sick and I don’t even feel guilty for lying.

I’m relieved that my season isn’t over. That my goals aren’t lost. If they were, the hard shell I’ve built around my emotions would shatter. Instead, I let myself feel a twinge of happy relief that Regionals is coming up next. It’s something sure and concrete to work towards. Jace is gone at a game this weekend, and for that I’m relieved as well.

Savannah is on some sort of house arrest in her hometown. She’s a five-hour drive from here, and I no longer have a target on my back. But Jace is still a celebrity in the world of Brockton and on campus. And I still have no word from UC about a scholarship. Instead of sorting through what this all means, I’m putting all my energy into qualifying for Nationals at the Regional meet in two weeks. Aside from that, I will think of nothing else. I simply can’t.

My single-minded focus reaps the results I was seeking. I qualify for Nationals at the Regional meet. And so does Jenny. But it’s like my emotions have been frozen in ice. Sure, I act happy but again, it’s mostly just relief. Relief that I’ll continue to have something to focus on for another two weeks. Gran tried to sit me down and talk to me about what’s going on. Even she knows that me qualifying for Nationals after being out with an injury for most of the season is a huge hurdle, and that I should be ecstatic. Oh, and not to mention that I’m still wearing a cast for a broken wrist.

When I brush her off with vague answers she takes my hands. “Jace has come by multiple times, and you’ve acted so cold to him, Pep,” she points out. Her view of my behavior threatens a sharp stab of emotions but it disappears immediately. “Girl, you have never been a cold one, and I don’t like it. Not one bit. Stop acting like a zombie and tell your Gran what’s weighing on you.”

I swallow a lump in my throat and shake my head. “I’m okay, Gran, really. I just need some time. And I’ve told Jace that. He understands and we’re okay with that.”

“You sure he’s okay with it? That boy looks like you’ve punched him in the gut every time you give him the zombie routine,” she says solemnly. “I’m as worried about him as I am about you.”

My head shoots up. Something inside me threatens to shake free but I stubbornly push it back down.

“The thing with amazon girl really shook both us up,” I say calmly. It’s quite the understatement. Gran huffs loudly and even Dave growls from under the table. “Just let me process it. I’ve got to focus on Nationals right now, okay?”

Gran narrows her eyes. But it’s all I’ve got.

What I learn over the next two weeks is that I am only capable of suppressing my emotions for so long. They can’t be dulled forever, and when they start to hit, they are sharper than ever.

Jenny and I are the only ones at practice together, and our workouts are very mild. While she’s in taper mode after training hard all season, these workouts are actually building my speed so I don’t make a fool of myself at Nationals. I’m not even sure I believe I can win anymore. Who am I kidding?

Jenny chats about her new relationship with Rollie and he picks her up from practice every day. Seeing them together is hard. I can’t deny it. I miss Jace. I really miss him. He’s tried giving me the distance I’ve asked for, but I know he’s hurting.

When a letter arrives two days before we fly to Indiana for Nationals, offering me a full athletic scholarship to UC, another piece of the wall breaks. Mark Harding leaves me a voicemail, apologizing that the scholarship letters went out later than usual this year due to some board meetings, and that he was anxiously awaiting my decision. But instead of calling him back immediately, I sit on it. Something is holding me back.

And that something is waiting for me in my room when I get back from my last high school cross practice on Thursday evening.

He’s sitting at my desk, and the letter is in his hand.

He doesn’t look up when I enter or when I sit down on my bed.

“I got it yesterday,” I say quietly.

“Yeah, I saw the date.” Jace shows no remorse for reading my mail, and I don’t expect him to.

For some reason, he can’t look at me.

“Pepper.” The pain in his voice shatters all my protection. My heart is breaking for him. “I’m sorry. I know I should be the strong one here. I know that being with me has cost you in ways neither of us could have imagined. It’s put you in danger. And,” he sucks in air like he’s struggling to breathe, “I just can’t let you go.”

“Let me go?” I echo. “Break up with me?”

His eyes finally find mine, and I want more than anything to crawl into his lap and make it all better again.

He swallows. “That would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? To keep you from the shit that follows me around,” he says with some disgust. “After you left that morning. The morning after you were hit, I was so fucking scared you’d end it right then. But you didn’t. You came with me that Saturday night. And then…” His voice trails off and neither of us can say a thing.

“And then we found out who was behind it all.”

“Yeah,” he says on a heavy sigh. “We did.”

He gets up from the chair now and joins me on the bed, but he still won’t touch me.

“I’ve been terrified since then that you would end it, but you’ve checked out. Just put me out of my misery here, Pepper. I’ve given you space but I just, I can’t stay away.”

“Jace, I’m flying to Indiana for Nationals tomorrow.” He must know this. It’s been all over the news. Oh, and he sent me chocolate-covered strawberries after Regionals to congratulate me. I’m not sure he’ll ever be able to send me flowers again.

He blinks. “Yeah, I know.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. This is shitty timing.”

I can’t help but offer a small smile. He’s so distraught. It’s painful to see him like this. Jace is supposed to be cool, calm and collected at all times. “So you came to tell me that you’ll understand if I break up with you because of the crazy you attract?”

I’m trying to sound teasing and light-hearted, but the gravity of the words can’t be missed.

He nods slowly.

My eyebrows furrow and I gasp at a sudden realization. “Do you
want
me to break up with you?”

“Fuck, no,” Jace practically growls at me. And he finally pulls me to him. His touch eases me in a way I haven’t felt soothed in weeks. “I want you to be safe, and if being with me is going to keep making you a target, I’m not sure we’ve got a choice.”

“She’s gone now, though.” But we both fear the same thing. That there will be more like her.

“I’ve had no idea what you’ve been thinking, Pep, and it’s driving me crazy.”

I push back so I can have enough distance to think. His hard chest and warm breath are entirely too distracting. “Honestly?”

“That’s all I want.”

“I’ve been shut down because I’m not sure I can handle being your girlfriend.”

His eyes darken at that, but I continue. “I’ve gotten a lot tougher since we first got together, Jace, but being with you takes a really strong girl. And it’s only going to get more intense.”

He raises his eyebrows in question.

“Your,” I wave my hand around in the air, “fame!” There’s already talk of when he’ll be drafted to the NFL. My voice softens when I admit, “Savannah was right about one thing. You’re powerful. And I can’t ignore what that means for me.”

His body stiffens at her name, but he asks as gently as he can, “What does it mean?”

I shrug. “Do I have what it takes?”

His lips begin to curve in a smile but I stop him from saying anything yet.

“It’s why I shut down. If I feel everything, I might discover I’m not cut out for it. And I don’t want to discover that. Does that make me weak?”

Jace shakes his head and I can tell he’s been exercising a lot of control not to tug me back to his chest when he finally gives in and presses a hard kiss to my forehead.

“You’re the strongest girl I’ve ever known.”

My body shudders at his words, at his conviction that they are truth.

And when he takes my hand, and then my mouth in his, I let myself melt into him. I’m not sure if I ever really had a choice. If being with Jace Wilder requires being strong, I’d better keep training.

***

Gran flies on a plane for the first time in her life to watch me at Nationals. It’s the same day as the championship game for football. UC made it for the first time in twelve years. Brockton is going crazy for their quarterback. Jace did me a huge favor by taking some of the attention away from me today. Only one other girl has won Nationals twice in high school, and that’s Elsa Blackwood, who went on to win a bronze medal in the Olympic marathon.

The pressure to win again doesn’t bother me like it would have in the past. I’m stronger now. I’m confident in who I am as a runner.

Jenny is giddy with nervousness and I don’t blame her. I try to be encouraging, but I’m mostly lost in my own anticipation as we warm up and finally toe the line. I’ve found my racing legs again over the past few weeks, and it’s truly astonished me how well I was able to maintain fitness by cross training alone. But whether I’m in the kind of shape to compete with the best in the nation has yet to be seen.

When the gun goes off, for the first time maybe ever, I have no racing plan or strategy. Coach Tom advised going with my gut, whatever that means. He’s usually quite conservative in his advice, and I assumed he wanted me to hang in the back so that I could see how much gas I had left at the end to try to finish respectably. To avoid embarrassment. But as the field surges forward and girls try to find their position in the pack, my gut is telling me to go for it.

So I do.

Keeping my elbows out to avoid getting pushed by the other runners surrounding me, I kick my legs hard in order to get to the front. If I get boxed into the middle of the pack before we hit the narrower trail, I’ll waste a lot of energy trying to pass people later on.

There are still a number of girls ahead of me when we merge onto the trail, but I’m not as far back as I thought I’d be. As soon as the first hill comes into sight, my heart races in anticipation. Instead of slowing as we incline, I pick up my pace, surging past several runners and making it to the front pack of girls by the time we reach the top.

A couple of them seem startled by my presence beside them as we wind our way through the woods, and I notice one does a double-take. People heard about my injury and assumed I was out of the running. Until the gun went off, I believed it too. I held on to a hope, but I thought I was fooling myself. As the rush from racing with top runners floods through me, I know that we were all wrong.

I am very much in the running.

A grin spreads across my face when I see Coach Tom on the sideline. He wasn’t expecting me so soon, and his eyes widen in surprise before he gathers himself and shouts encouragements.

Gran has adorned herself in a hot pink parka and ear muffs today. She wanted me to be able to see her in the crowd. I don’t think she realizes I never have trouble spotting her. The tiny woman has vocal chords like a lion when she cheers.

Some girls might be embarrassed to hear their name shouted with such unguarded enthusiasm, but Gran’s joy at watching me run always makes me want to run harder. I love that she loves how much I love to run. Yup. I am so feeling the love as I keep up with the lead pack of girls going into the final mile.

It’s a cold and cloudy December day, and my body was made to run fast in weather like this. I’ve gotten used to the cast on my wrist these past few weeks, and it doesn’t feel so weighty anymore. It’s just there.

The throbbing in my legs and chest becomes more insistent and my own labored breathing mixes with that of the girls around me. But when the finish line comes into view, the goal I’ve been holding on to so tightly over these past few months becomes a reality. And the throbbing no longer matters anymore.

I focus on that finish line, the movements of hot pink bouncing up and down registering somewhere in my periphery and spurring me to a speed I didn’t know I had left in me. The roar of the crowd is deafening but all I can see is the finish.

My arms pump and my knees lift with determination. It dawns on me that there are no runners beside or in front of me but I don’t back down. I race for that finish line like my life depends on it. And in an odd way, it’s this moment that has gotten me through everything. Being here, running my heart out, sprinting ahead of everyone else, it’s what I live for.