Page 98 of Racing Hearts

I close my eyes, shake my head. “It wouldn’t be fair to put all of it on you. And that’s not even to mention the expense—how can you afford to buy a plane ticket every month?”

“So, you just want to quit? You don’t even want to try?”

“In this case, trying could mean failing, not just with you, but also in the rest of my life. I could lose everything I’ve wanted. Everything I’ve worked for.”

“Kath.” His eyes search mine with a desperation that nearly pushes me off-balance. “Don’t do this, please. You never quit. Never. You soldier on, despite the hurdles. When you get knocked down, you always pick yourself back up. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”

I swallow a gasp.

The lights of the hall brighten, the world coming in and out of focus.

“You…love me?”

Adrian runs his hand through his mop of brown hair. “Damn. This wasn’t what I had in mind for saying that to you, but fuck it.” He steps forward, coming so close I’m wrapped in his familiar smell.

“Of course I love you.” His voice is low and insistent. “I love your passion for rowing, for life. I love how you lift other people up, encourage them to be the best versions of themselves. I love your quiet confidence, your focused inspiration, your honesty. I love how you’ve made me feel, even for a short time, like I’m not alone anymore. Like we’re a team. Like we can take on anything. Together. We can take this on, too.”

Everything is splitting, splintering. My body is a rock that’s shearing off, piece by piece, and exploding into an abyss below. I’m breaking apart and all I can think—all I can do—is flatten my arms against my body and try to hold myself together.

Adrian can’t love me. Because I can’t love him back. I can’t afford to. I can’t race with a broken heart.

“It wouldn’t work,” I insist.

Adrian slowly closes his eyes.

“I’m not saying that because I don’t care about you,” I say, desperate to make him understand. “But the logistics are insurmountable. And that’s not even to mention if you move to Florida. Instead of two hours, you’ll be a six-hour flight away.”

Adrian blinks open his eyes, and there’s a hardness in them that wasn’t there a moment ago. “I’m not moving to Florida.”

“You keep saying that. I don’t understand why. Is it because of the kids?”

“The kids?”

I had been hoping I got through to Rohan, that maybe he would talk to Adrian, too. So far though I’m not seeing any evidence of that. “Because you don’t want to leave the kids?”

“No,” he says quietly.

It’s so direct I know it’s the truth. This is about much more than the kids.

“Is it because you’re afraid?” I whisper.

He jerks back. “Why would you say that?”

His expression is twisted like I’ve rammed him in the chest with an oar and it’s all the confirmation I need. I understand now.

It took me two months to see because he hides it so well. In some ways, Adrian is an extremely confident man. With his team. With me. But when it comes to taking a new step, moving forward in life and pushing beyond the bounds where he is comfortable and confident? That’s where Adrian shuts down.

Instead, he approaches his life with the same strategy he uses in a game of Skee-Ball. He shoots right down the middle, always aiming for the hole that he feels most comfortable sinking. He’s scared to want the job because he’s scared of aiming for the fifty and hitting the ten instead.

It’s no way to win at Skee-Ball. More important, it’s no way to live a life.

“Why did you want the lemon bar in Italy?” I ask gently.

“I don’t—Why is that relevant?”

“When we met. You said you didn’t want to just give it to me because you needed it, too. To cheer yourself up.”

“I don’t know what you’re driving at.”