Page 41 of The Embers That Remain

“Maybe he does.”

I froze. The idea lodged in my chest like a stone I couldn’t swallow.

“He had fifteen years to explain,” I said.

“And you had fifteen years to listen,” she replied gently. That stung.

“Maybe you need to give him a chance,” she observed.

I let out a slow breath. “Why?”

“Because you’re still running,” she said simply.

I blinked at her. “What?”

She gestured around us—to the track, to my heaving chest, to the tension wound tightly in my body.

“This? This isn’t just about exercise.”

I didn’t respond because she wasn’t wrong.

“And if you were really over it,” she continued, softer now, “you wouldn’t feel like this. You’d write him off as some jerk from high school and move on.”

I stared down at the track, at the faded white lines marking lanes that had once felt so certain. Nothing felt clear anymore. I’d written off tons of people in my life—every boyfriend my mom ever had—but why was I still so hung up on him?

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I admitted finally.

“Talk to him?”

“Yeah.”

“Just try.”

“What if it just makes things worse?” I asked quietly.

Landry gave me a small understanding smile. “Then at least you’ll know.”

I closed my eyes for a second, letting her words settle. Know. I’d spent years avoiding that. Avoiding him. Avoiding the questions that didn’t have simple answers. Avoiding the possibility that maybe . . . just maybe . . .

I hadn’t seen everything as clearly as I thought I had.

“I hate this,” I grumbled.

She laughed softly.

“Growth usually feels like that,” she said. “Trust me, I know. I’ve walked through hell and back.”

I wiped sweat from my eyes, as some of the tension in my chest loosened just a fraction because there was a lot more to Landry Gaines than I’d realized.

“Don’t get used to me taking your advice,” I said with a huff.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she quipped with a smirk. We stood there for a moment longer, the sun dipping out of sight, the air cooling just enough to take the edge off the sweat I'd worked up.

“Come on,” she said finally, nudging my arm. “One more lap?”

I groaned. “You’re trying to kill me now.”

“Payback.” She winked.