Page 100 of Get Me to the Starting Line
“I have to finish this one. It’s lemon meringue.”
Even she can’t say no to my lemon meringue. It’s one of my best.
She sighs. “What did Iz say when she called?”
“The judge is willing to hear Ian’s plea, give him a chance, the usual bullshit. She thinks we’ll still be able to win, or at the very least, stipulate supervised visits.”
The thought sends a chill down my spine. I do not want Levi alone with his sperm donor, but I also don’t want to spend any time with Ian.
“If that’s the case, Adam and I can supervise his visits with Levi so you don’t have to.”
I look up, shocked. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
She raises her brows. “I thought we were getting better at asking for help.”
Scoffing, I lift my middle finger and stick out my tongue. Like the mature thirty-two-year-old I am. Thirty-two. My birthday was last month and it was perfect, spent surrounded by every living person I love.
Except for one brooding goalie. We haven’t spoken for three months. Not a text, not a word.
But there are the mornings.
I run five days a week now. Still impossibly slow. The first time I ran a 10k, it took an hour and a half, even with Paige by my side encouraging me. But I also pushed the stroller the whole damn time without stopping. I’ve been running solo too.
Well, solo plus Levi.
I gave up after the first try and called Paige. She wasn’t able to come and sent Adam instead. That was fun—he’s a golden retriever, that man. But he was helpful on the days I did 15k and 18k for the first time.
Until I was finally able to suck it up and go by myself.
I treasure those mornings now. When it’s just me and Levi against the world, like it always has been. Finding those serene moments has been crucial for my mental health these past few months. One moment in particular.
Every morning without fail, I look forward to seeing him. I thought it was an accident at first, or maybe he wanted to talk. But that first day when he passed me, I knew what it meant. He was giving me space while showing me he was still there.
Now I pass Julien on his runs every day. We don’t speak, but Levi always gets so excited. And every time he smiles, I swear I feel my ovaries cry. And when he turns his smouldering gaze on me? If I wore underwear while running, they would fall down at those heated looks. Panty dropping.
We’re both slow, so it takes a while to pass each other, and the buildup every day is both the most excruciating and exhilarating part of my day. I miss it on rest days.
I got dressed in his jersey to go to his first game back, trying to do what he did for me every morning. But, coward that I am, I couldn’t bring myself to go. Still, I watch with Levi at home until he falls asleep and then I’m glued to the TV, waiting for any glimpse of Julien I can get. I’m hopeless.
The lab sent him the newer brace, the one I developed to go underneath his goalie pads. I made sure I knew all the rules and regulations and had Adam and Mateo help me design it specifically for Julien. I hope he’s wearing it.
He’s been on fire the last few games, almost able to stay out on the ice the whole time. The first few were rough—he was subbing on and off constantly—but it seems like he’s almost back to his pre-dislocation self.
I want to send him a pie. I can’t.
“Hello, earth to Leah!” Paige says, humour in her tone.
“Sorry, I zoned out,” I mumble, waiting for the comment that’s sure to make my heart squeeze.
“Daydreaming about a certain goalie?”
“No,” I say too quickly. I don’t know why I deny it since I’ve told Paige everything. It took a while, but finally being able to talk to my sister about my heartache felt freeing. After I got over, or rather, Paige forced me to get over, the feeling of burdening her.
My sister smiles knowingly. “Mm-hmm. So, are you packed?”
“Of course. The better question is, areyoupacked?”
“Adam is packing for me.”
