Page 39 of Running
Fuck.Fuck.That’s tough. “Grace, I’m so sorry that happened. I—It wasn’t fair.”
Her expression falls, like she’s finally letting herself feel the dejection that the experience must have brought. “I know. I just…I’m not good at blocking out that kind of feedback. Even if I wasn’t supposed to hear it. If I don’t have a shot at being the best in Larry Smalls’ eyes, why would I even try?”
There’s so much going through my mind. Did she have any other coaches who could give her a different perspective? Does she still even want to run competitively? Or did he taint it forever for her?
It doesn’t feel like it’s my place to dig further than she’s offering, though. Not with our friendship still so new.
Instead, I try to build her back up in a different way. Like I would do one of the guys in the locker room.
“I get that, for sure. When you’re competitive at that level, there’s only one result you want. To win. But take it from me, Grace. Even as a football player, I know you’re a special athlete. You’re talented, dedicated, and let’s be real, fast as hell. Faster at the miles you do than pretty much any guy on my team getting paid absurd amounts of money to be an athlete.”
She’s studying me with those hazel eyes, looking so vulnerable. It makes me even angrier on her behalf.
“I don’t know this Larry Smalls guy, but his name sounds appropriate. Don’t let him make you feel smaller than the incredible woman you are.”
She blinks at my last phrase and—shit—I see a single tear roll down her cheek. My heart lurches. Did I say too much?
I instinctually fall out of my chair, to my knees. Two slides of my legs later, I’m right in front of her, my left hand reaching out to rest on her right forearm.
“I’m sorry. Don’t cry, Grace.”
She wipes the tear away with her left hand and raises her head back up to face me. Unlike when I touched her back earlier, there’s no sign of her being startled by our contact now.
“It’s not what you think, Johnson. It’s—no one has ever said anything like that to me before.”
I sit back on my knees, my hand dropping from her arm.What?What does she mean? I’ve heard Landon praise her running, but has no one among her family or coaches made sureshe doesn’t take to heart what’s said by the inevitable critics? Be there to build her back up when she needs it?
Or maybe it’s that none of them know she’s struggling. Shedidsay that she has only told a couple of friends about this incident in particular.
And nowme.
I don’t know if I can find the right words to help, but I want to do more.
I inch closer, and place both hands on the outside of her armrests, like I’m guarding her. She watches what I’m doing with an expression I can’t read. Certainly, there’s no more tears.
With my hands in place, I straighten my chest, closing a few more inches to her. “Grace, can I…can I hug you?”
She doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she bends towards me herself, and within a heartbeat’s time, her arms are wrapped around the top of my shoulders.
I nearly choke on my breath. She’s touchingme. And on top of that, I can hear the soft sounds of her inhales, a rhythm I want to memorize.
Hug her back, idiot.I move my arms off the chair and swing them across her back, pulling her tighter against me, my hands splayed against her cotton shirt.
The position isn’t the most comfortable physically—my knees will be angry here in a minute—but it’s perfect for right now. We’re linked in so many places, even the top of her head rests against my collarbone, her blonde ponytail splayed out across my chest.
Neither of us says a word, we just lean into each other’s bodies, and I find my breathing starts to mimic the pattern of hers.
Another piece of the mosaic of who Grace is, clicking into place for me.
CHAPTER 13
Grace
The shelter of Johnson’s arms is like nothing I’ve experienced before. Sure, my brothers have hugged me plenty, but so often it’s been at times I was just as worried about them.
Never has a man held me through my own moment of hurt, with the sole purpose of supportingme. Where I’ve trusted him with a secret. Where he’s made me feel so safe.
Johnson keeps his arms locked around me without any sign of breaking away. It gives my emotions surrounding the Larry Smalls story time to fade back to their normal latent state.
