The Threesome Fearsome would remain, but it was different. Logan had always been on Mason’s other side, but after this, he would stand behind us. It would be Mason and me, side by side. We’d follow our own trail, and eventually Logan would start off on his own path with Taylor.
Logan cursed. “Fuck. Why am I sad all of a sudden?”
“Logan.” I opened my arms, and he moved in, hugging me tightly and burying his head in my shoulder. I smoothed a hand down his head and brought him closer.
Then he turned, and Mason gripped him in another hug. They stood together for a long time. When they stepped back, both wiped a hand over their eyes, and Mason reached for me again.
He flicked a finger up to the corner of his eye, looking away as he said, “I knew getting married would be emotional, but shit . . .”
I laced our fingers, and he took another breath and seemed to calm a little.
We waited another moment, and he looked back to his brother. He had steadied again. “I fucking love you.”
Logan nodded. “Same for you.” His eyes found mine. “You too.”
I felt punched by what I saw there.
He was like a little boy again. There was no wall. He wasn’t flirting with Taylor. There was no sarcastic joke on his tongue. His eyes weren’t flashing from mischief or the need to fight. He was just simply there, staring at us like we were the two pillars he’d been leaning on the last six or seven years of his life, and we were crumbling around him.
It wasn’t true.
“Logan.” I reached for him with my free hand and tugged him close to us. “We’re not going anywhere.”
He nodded. “I know.” He squeezed my hand, and the three of us formed a circle. We stood like that until Logan finally broke away.
He went to his Escalade, and I waved at Taylor inside. She waved back, her face streaming with tears. When Logan got in he leaned over, and I saw her reach for him. After a moment, he wheeled the Escalade out of the parking lot.
Then it was two.
I looked up, leaning back against my husband’s chest. A smile curved my mouth. “Husband.”
He looked down at me with an answering smile. “Wife.”
No other words needed to be said.
I got my happily ever after one night when I parked at a gas station with two drunken friends. I just hadn’t known it then.
He leaned down for a kiss, and I sighed as our lips met.
It was perfect.
ONE LAST RACE
“Kade!”
I heard my name barked out next to me, and I jerked.
“What?” I snapped my head up, irritated, but I already knew who it was and relaxed right away. I quieted my tone. “What is it, Coach?”
I half-snorted at the name. He was my coach, trainer, sadistic torturer, and grudging father figure all rolled into one. He was my Olympic trainer, and he gestured out to where the other runners had started to congregate.
“You ready?” he said.
I nodded, but I wasn’t.
I was lit up like a starving dog that saw its first steak, ever. I was almost salivating, but I was distracted at the same time.
“You were supposed to sleep a full night last night.” He watched me with narrowed eyes, his black jacket zipped all the way up under his jaw and whistle in hand. He dropped it, letting it fall back against his chest. “Kade. Did you—”
“Yes, yes.” I waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I’m ready.”
Had I slept all night? No.
Would my running suffer because of it? No.
Or, I hoped not.
I scanned the rest of the runners. I’d run this race before. This was my second time at the Olympics. And I ran. That’s what I did. Granted, that’s what all of these people did, but it had been my life source at one point.
I knew once I walked to that starting line, everything else would leave my mind.
I was born to do this. I would be fine.
I told my trainer this, and he nodded, but I knew he didn’t quite believe me.
He stepped back and pointed to the starting line. “Go and kick ass. Again.”
I clipped my head in a nod. That was what I would do. When it came to running, that was all I did. I went and finished my stretching. My mind wandered off, but as I took my place at the line, I looked over and saw the reason for my scattered thoughts.
The first warning sounded.
I had good reason to daydream.
“Set!”
Mason waved from where he stood, with our daughter in his arms. We’d named her Logan Malinda Kade—we called her Maddy.
BOOM! The gun went off.
And I ran.
The end.