Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Creole’s talk with me had been a hell of a lot gentler than Apollo’s.
She’d told me that I shouldn’t waste the gift I’d been given.
Apollo had told me in no uncertain terms that he would literally kill to have it, and if I didn’t take the opportunity that I was given, he’d beat the absolute shit out of me.
The thing with Apollo was he meant it.
He would literally whip me into shape with his fists if he had to.
I had been understandably freaking out.
I’d lost two years with Lottie.
Well, not two years exactly. I’d had a lot of time to spend with her since she’d been born.
All of the club members had.
At the time of Lottie’s mom’s death, Audric had been in a really dark place. He’d struggled with fatherhood, and at the time, we’d all rallied around him. We’d spend nights over at his place. We’d take care of Lottie during the workday. Ultimately, she was raised by the club.
At the time, we’d thought that Lottie was just too much for Audric to handle after the loss of his wife.
When in reality, what was going on was that Audric was trying to give all of us time with the little girl so that she could get to know all of us because he knew that she was one of the club’s members.
A cheer rose, pulling me out of my morose thoughts, and I looked up to find damn near every female that belonged to the club standing near the start line. One of them, Baker, Copper’s wife, was holding a sign that read: Want us to call you an Uber?
Searcy, Doc’s wife, held one that said: Run if you think I’m hot.
Eedie, Webber’s daughter, held one that said: Smile if you peed a little.
Aella, Chevy’s wife, held one that read: Who hurt you?
Then there was Silver, Webber’s wife, who held one that read: We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty.
It was Creole’s that had me really cracking up: Simon says keep running.
I walked up to them and gave them all a hug.
“The only reason you were able to give us that is because our men are too hungover to get here.” Aella chortled.
I grinned. “You don’t think I would’ve done that regardless?”
Aella’s eyes twinkled as she dropped down to her haunches in front of Lottie and said, “I brought you some donuts, baby. You’ll be good for Daddy while he runs, won’t you? You’ll be in that stroller for a while.”
Lottie nodded her head enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah!”
I snorted out a laugh. “Want donuts?”
“Yep!” She paused, remembering that we were working on manners. “Peas!”
I nodded, happy with her quick correction.
Not that she was a rude kid, but she was given everything in the world. At least she could be appreciative about it.
“Tanks!” Lottie said when Aella dropped a bag of donut holes onto her lap. “Love you!”
That I didn’t teach her. She taught herself to love all these people I called family.
It also made my heart happy to hear.
“I love you, too.” Aella picked up Lottie’s hand and kissed it. “Have a good run, my girl.”
“Yes!” She pumped her tiny little fist.
The announcer called out that the anthem was about to start, and for runners to find their starting spots.
I moved to the pacer that was holding the 4:00 sign.
I probably wouldn’t stay with her the whole time, but I’d at least start there.
The anthem started to play, a young man in his teens singing it for the group, and I took my hat off and placed it over my heart.
My eyes started to tear up, too, because the kid looked a lot like my Jett would’ve looked, and around the same age, too.
He had the same dimples my boy had, too.
“Fuck,” I breathed as I rubbed my heart where it ached.
“Of the free!” Lottie sung.
Unlike the young man, Lottie couldn’t hold a tune, but that didn’t matter. She sang with her whole heart, really belting it out.
The racers around me started to join in, because who could resist singing with a three-year-old?
By the time it was finished, damn near all of the racers around me were singing off tune.
“Racers, are you ready?” the announcer called out.
“Yes!” everyone called around me.
I didn’t.
I didn’t necessarily want to be running.
Like the others, I was slightly hungover.
But, being an athlete all of my life, and a damn good one at that, I didn’t turn down a workout challenge.
“What is the pace you need to run to qualify for Boston?” I heard someone ask.
A husky female voice replied with, “For a woman, you generally need to get about a three hour and thirty minutes. Men need to be about three hours.”
I looked over to the woman talking.
She was around five foot five or so with black hair that was up high in a ponytail on the top of her head. The length of her hair was braided down her back, and it was so long that my fingers all but itched to grab it.