The last marker indicated there was half a mile left in the run. Cope, Ten, Kaye, and the littlest kids were just up ahead. He wanted Lizbet to be proud of her father. Hell, if he was able to beat Ronan, maybe Cope would reward him by blowing the rainbow.
7
Ronan
Ronan grinned as he ran past the half mile mark. He was feeling good so far. Before he and Ten had met, Ronan used to run five miles a day in South Boston, along the harbor to Castle Island and back. It had been part of his rehab recovery. When he was in Florida at the facility that helped him turn his life around, he’d started running on the beach like Rocky and Apollo Creed.
Back in those days, he could have sprinted the mile and would have crossed the finish line in eight minutes. Now, being woefully out of shape, he was breathing heavy and not just because of the colored powder flying at him and into his lungs. Ronan looked like he’d taken a bath inside a rainbow. The other reason for his slower pace was the kids. He could see Everly’s bright pink wig up ahead. With Wolf howling every time he got hit with color, Ronan was able to keep easy track of the three first graders.
As for Fitz and Jude, Ronan heard them talking about adoption and he’d run ahead to give them privacy. Ronan knew it was a big step to bring another child into an established family. Everly hadn’t taken too well to Ezra when he first came home. It had taken time and a lot of patience for Everly to feel comfortable with the tiny, crying intruder. Maybe her struggles with becoming a big sister would help Aurora on her own journey.
Up ahead, he could see Ten and Cope who were cheering the runners and hitting them with glitter color. The runners sparkled as they ran on from the color station. He knew Aurora and Everly were going to lose their minds when they got hit with the shimmering powder.
An abbreviated howl went up from Wolf. Ronan had a feeling the little boy realized he’d just been bedazzled. Cope and Wolf were laughing together as Aurora and Everly twirled while Ten sprinkled them in fairy dust.
“My turn!” Ronan took Everly’s place showering in the glitter and pink powder it had been mixed with. “How are people reacting to the glitter?”
“Most are thrilled,” Ten said. He sparkled from head to toe. “I’ve heard a lot of people complain about how glitter is the herpes of the craft world.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Ronan asked. Could you get an STI from craft supplies?
Ten snickered. “It means once you get it, you’re stuck with it for life. My guess is that we’ll still be finding glitter in our house when Everly graduates from high school.”
“I hope so, Dad! Every day should be filled with glitter!” Everly held her arms in the sunlight, watching them sparkle.
“Boom!” Ezra cried, throwing powder at Everly’s feet.
“Boo!” Lizbet echoed, doing the same to Aurora.
“Oh, my goodness? Is that my little girl?” Jude asked, scooping Lizbet up. The little girl was covered from head to toe in color. “You look like a crayon box come to life.”
“Me, cray, cray!” Lizbet proclaimed, self-identifying as a crayon. She set her hands on Jude’s chest, leaving her colorful, sparkling handprints behind.
“Go get Uncle Fitz!” Jude urged, setting his daughter down. Lizbet ran to the bucket of pink glittering powder, grabbed two handfuls and ran toward Fitzgibbon.
“’Itz!” Lizbet squealed, throwing her powder against Fitzgibbon’s legs.
“You got me!” Fitz’s legs sparkled like he was a member of the Rockettes.
“Wun!” Ezra shouted, pointing toward the other runners. “Dada, wun!”
“Okay, gang, the finish line is in sight. Are you all ready to go?” Ronan asked.
“Wonder Wolf!” The little boy howled and started running. The girls were at his side.
“My hero!” Ten gushed. “I’ve got a reward for you at home!” He waggled his eyebrows.
Ronan snorted. “I hope it’s pain cream. I already ache from head to toe.”
“Come on, Gramps!” Jude tugged Ronan’s arm. “You doing okay?”
“All good,” Ronan agreed, knowing Jude was asking about more than the race. He’d been struggling the last few weeks with a case he’d been assigned. Three of the original witnesses had died or moved and the rest didn’t want to relive the trauma of Stephen Maxwell’s 1989 murder.
“Are you sure that’s your final answer?” Jude asked, nudging his friend.
Ronan sighed. “I’m frustrated as fuck,” Ronan whispered, not wanting to offend any of the little ears running near he and Jude. “This case isn’t stuck in neutral, it’s in reverse.”
“What’s Ten got to say about it?”
