He swallows and sits back. "It's not like I won't still see you. I mean, you'll stay with us over break, right?"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"You have to. You know you're important to my family."
"And that's all?"
"Liv," he groans. "It's all you're allowed to be."
In the morning, I'm my standard nervous-with-a-side-order-of-nervous.
"Try to eat, sugar," says Dorothy.
"I can't," I sigh. "You know that."
She somehow gets half a banana in me before we leave for the meet. I felt okay when I woke up, but once we're on the field something spins in my stomach. The air is cold, but it can't account for the chill that seems to climb under my skin.
"Something's wrong," I tell Will. "Something's off."
"Nothing's off," he soothes. He reaches out to touch me and stops himself, letting his hand fall. "It's just nerves."
"No, this is different. I feel sick," I tell him. "I think I'm going to throw up."
"You're not sick," he says firmly. "Don't do this to yourself. Or go ahead and do it to yourself. But you know once you're running it'll pass."
I nod, but this time, I'm not convinced. Maybe it's just my failure at the last meet, but I don't think it is. My lucky streak is over. I had a small winning streak at UT too, and then it ended and it never came back.
Today is not going to work out.
I taste metal in my mouth as we wait at the starting line, and then it's in my stomach, climbing through me, making my gut churn and my blood go cold. When the gun sounds, I take off too fast, trying to escape the chill that's climbing up my spine, the certainty that I will fail. I think of Will on the sidelines right now, how he'll feel when I lose, and what it must have been like two weeks ago watching me blow our shot at regionals. I force myself to pull back. I let the other girls set the pace, but because I'm anxious it feels painfully slow.
///
And then the distance increases and I feel better, stronger, more certain. I even out, going head-to-head with some girl from California everyone expects to win. But I can hear the violence of her exhale, the rasp in her inhale. We aren't even two miles in and she's struggling, whereas I feel like I could run this pace all day long.
I break ahead of the others. It's early, for me. A risk. Maybe I don't have another two fast miles in me, but today I want this. I want this for Will and Peter and Dorothy as much as I do myself, and I think it's possible I have it.
When I see the finish line, I begin to sprint and the noise of the crowd rings so loud I can't hear my own breath. Their roar grows deafening as I break through the tape.
Immediately there's a news crew and photographers around me and I push past them, desperately looking for the one face I need to see. He breaks through the crowd and throws his arms around me.
"You did it, Liv," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear, his body wrapped around me, and I feel safe and content and complete all at the same time.
I wanted to win, but I wanted to win for this exact moment, the one shared with him. I won't always remember the race, but this I will remember.
He slowly lets go when Peter and Dorothy jog up. "19:22!" yells Peter. Meaningless to most people, but all of us knows what it means. I was only five seconds off the 6K world record. Closer to it than anyone I've ever known.
I'm pulled through the crowd somehow, being congratulated and even hugged by complete strangers. We get to where the guys are waiting and Dan gathers me into his arms for a hug that goes on slightly too long.
"Enough, Brofton," barks Will behind us.
Even Betsy is almost nice. "19:22," she says, shaking her head. "I still don't like you, but holy shit that's fast."
There are interviews later and people wanting to meet me and an awards ceremony. It's what I've wanted my entire life, but it all comes in second to Will. I answer a reporter's questions, but my eyes don't stray from him.
"How does it feel to come within seconds of breaking the world record?" the reporter asks.
I give the answer that I'm supposed to, tell her that I'm shocked and thrilled, and yes, this is the biggest day of my life. And the whole time I watch Will, knowing I'd give it all up for him – my wins, the team, my future. He just doesn't want me enough to take it.
We land in Denver and take the bus back to campus together. I hate that this is my goodbye to Dorothy and Will, brisk and impersonal, walking away as if they are strangers with Nicole and Betsy beside me. I'll see them again at the banquet, but that's hardly any better.
Except not an hour after I arrive at home, I find Will standing at my door. He walks in, head down and hands in pockets, and then he rounds on me. "What did you mean last night when you said you didn't think staying with us over break was a good idea?"
"That's pretty obvious, isn't it?"
"Look, I swear on my life I won't repeat what happened," he breathes. "I swear it. Just stay with us."
"You think I don't want to repeat that?" I demand. "I want to repeat that more than I've ever wanted anything."
Desire flares in his eyes. "Please don't say things like that, Olivia," he groans, tugging at his hair.
"It's the truth."
"What happened shouldn't have, but you're a part of the family now. You matter to all of us. We can get past this."
"That's just the problem, Will. You can get past it. I can't."
"What do you mean?"
I swallow hard and meet his eye. "If you wanted me enough, you could have had me. Or you could have asked me to wait until I graduated. But you didn't, and you won't, and do you know how hard it is to have to look at you?" My voice grows raspy and I pause because I refuse to cry in front of him again. "To look at you and know that you made your choice and you didn't choose me?"
He flinches. "Olivia, it's not a matter of choosing." His voice is rough. "I don't have a choice."
"You do," I whisper. "It'd just be a little over a year. You could ask me to wait. You could ask me right now and I'd do it. Gladly. But you're not going to, are you?"
He closes his eyes and that muscle pops in his jaw. He says nothing.
I walk to the door and throw it open. "That's exactly what I thought."
63
Will
///
I wait until I get to the car. I wait exactly that long before I punch the steering wheel and let loose a long stream of profanity.
That was it.
I lost her.
It's not that I ever thought she'd be mine. I'd just refused to consider that there'd come a day when she wouldn't be. I thought I could steal all these moments from her. At my mother's house, on the track, climbing. Store them up as if they'd do me a damn bit of good once she's gone.
I've been so selfish with her for so long. I never should have brought her to my mother's house. I could have found another way, but I wanted it to be me who was with her, me who saved her.
Tonight, far too late, I finally did the right thing, and I want more than anything to go back in her apartment and undo it. I think of that catch in her voice when she spoke about waiting and I start to get back out of the car.
And then I stop myself.
I'm not letting her piss her future away so she can come live on a debt-ridden farm. I'm finally going to do what's right for her, no matter how much it kills me to do it.
"I went to see Olivia yesterday," my mom tells me.
It's been a long three days. I haven't seen or heard from her once. I just want to know how she's doing. Okay, that's a lie. I want to see her face, bury my nose in her hair, hold onto her and stay just like that for as long as she'll allow.
"How was she?" I ask.
"Just like you. Doing her level best to pretend she's okay when she's clearly not."
"You sound like you're blaming me."
"I am blaming you, Will. You're in love with her. Have you even told her that?"
I push away from the table. After everything I've done wrong, I can't believe that I'm finally doing the right thing and she's mad. "It wouldn't do any good, Mom. I can't be with her anyway."
"Will, for God's sake. She's a junior. It's not that long until the student thing isn't even an issue."
"Right. And then what? She comes and lives on some shitty farm, with no coach and no group to train with? Where she can't get endorsements and doesn't have the money to fly to big races? She gives up her future for this?"
"You can't know how things will play out. That's over a year away."