Page 94 of Running Home to You
“You always finish tests before me,” Ryan said as he joined her.
Kate raised a brow and said what she always had to: “It’s not a competition.”
Of course, despite their best efforts, it always ended up a competition. And Kate, for lack of a better word, and by no means keepingscore, always won. It was fun at first. Debating in mock court and comparing test scores. Getting the most questions right during their lectures and study groups, fighting for and securing senior editor positions on theCalifornia Law Review.They went to trivia, played chess, hiked, and ran together, but Kate swore she caught his gritted teeth when he couldn’t figure out how to beat her, and while he was faster than her, she worried that even if she could finish the San Francisco Marathon first that it was better she didn’t.
The tiffs and teasing seemed minor, acceptable by-products of their personalities, until Kate’s clerkship. They both applied to positions with the Supreme Court of California, coveted spots with hundreds of applicants. They smiled and joked while they gathered letters of recommendation, proofread each other’s writing samples, and even celebrated together when they both made it to the interview round.
She never considered it might implode when Justice Levitsky offered her a clerkship and Ryan received none. He stared off in shock while he digested the news, and Kate, who wanted to celebrate, didn’t dare smile. She rubbed his arm while they sat beneath the bell tower after class, watching people cycle through the quad.
“It’s going to be okay.”
Ryan shrugged her off. “No.” He shook his head. “Not now. I just need a minute, okay?”
Kate withdrew and frowned. “I thought you could at least be happy for me.”
“Happy for you? I wanted this too.” Ryan snatched his jacket from the brick steps and stood. “You just always have to win, don’t you?”
“It’s not a competition. It’s my career.”
“And what about mine?”
He stomped away before she could stop him, and truthfully, she didn’t want to. Her thoughts drifted to where she tried so hard to not let them. Abby. Not that long ago, they had competed for the same position, but it never ended in bitterness. Sure, Abby was better, but Kate hadn’t held it against her. And Abby, for her part, hadsupported Kate, shared tips, and when Kate took over at shortstop, she didn’t scowl or pout. She had always been genuinely happy for her, whether it was softball or the rest, and when Berkeley accepted her, Abby didn’t once complain about what it might mean for her. In fact, she footed the bill.
Kate scolded herself for the comparison, the game she always fell into with poor Ryan, who wasn’t just competing with Kate but unwittingly with Abby. For that, she gave him slack. She forgave him the second he turned up at her door that night, tail between his legs, and a flower arrangement in hand.
They finished law school, agreeing to not share where they landed in class ranking. A new chapter. A clean start. It felt worth it when Kate introduced him to her parents at graduation. But when she looked at the pictures that showed her with a hollow smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she wondered if it meant anything at all. It was supposed to be different than when she graduated from Insley, and it was in every way but the most important. Abby still wasn’t there.
“So, are you going to be okay at the bachelorette?” Jill asked her during their weekly group call.
“What do you mean?”
She was inching toward the end of her clerkship, had passed the bar on the first try—another feat she dreaded sharing with Ryan—and set her sights on landing at a firm that was as prestigious as it was altruistic. It was more than enough to distract her from the upcoming reunion.
“I’m talking about Cruz!” Jill yelled over Juniper banging pots in the background.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Kate glanced over her shoulder to ensure Ryan was still crouched over his work at the dining room table. “I’m surprised she’s even coming. She avoids me like the plague.”
Mick snickered. “I have the power to bring feuding nations to peace. It’s like witnessing the fall of the Berlin Wall.”
“I wouldn’t speak so soon,” Jill said. “The Cold War is going strong.”
“We’re adults,” Kate said, as she rubbed her burning neck. “Abby and I are a nonfactor. Feelings haven’t been there for a long time. We’ve both made ourselves crystal clear.”
Clear, except that Kate still eyed the one number in the wedding group chat that wasn’t in her phone. Abby’s new number. She didn’t save it, certainly didn’t text or call, but stared at her few responses like a coded ransom note—one that held the key to cutting ties for good.
“Who’s Abby?” Ryan asked when she hung up.
Kate shook her head. “Just an old teammate.”
She frowned when she turned away, because it wasn’t even a lie. After four years, despite everything they’d been through together, that’s all Abby was to her now. All she let herself be.
She’d just stepped off the plane from Tokyo when she got the call. Abby hobbled on crutches as she searched for her ride outside LAX, ACL torn to shreds, her softball career finished for good. So, in true ethereal fashion, the game beckoned her back. Not to the field, but to the family she found on it.
“What are you doing?” Mick answered on the first ring when she dialed her back.
Abby grumbled. “Going to see an orthopedic surgeon. Sorry I missed your call, I just got back from Tokyo. Total fucking shit show.”
“Okay, okay, enough about you. I’m getting married.”
