Many of Breakwater’s students are here. Whether they’ve lost someone to cancer, or they’ve had me as their math teacher at some point, our school’s loyalty runs deep.
My varsity team pushes their way through the crowd, loud as hell, Natalie at the head of the pack.
“Hey, Coach.” Natalie nudges me with her shoulder.
“Thanks for coming, team.”
Some of the JV girls came out, as well, and I nod to show them my appreciation. I mentioned it last practice, not expecting them to give up their Saturday morning to be here. I’m happy they did.
“Look around,” Evan whispers. “You did this.”
My smile widens as it sinks in. “This is a great turnout.”
“Definitely more than last year,” Ivori says.
Then I hear, “Coach Fletcher, over here!”
My head whips around as my stomach drops.
Landon strides across the boardwalk with his mother beside him, just as the announcer starts talking again. I track him through the crowd, in a black hat and a white fundraiser shirt.
I grunt.At least he bought a shirt.
When they reach the JV players, I turn around and wrap my arms around Marie. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot.”
“Of course, sweetie.” She clutches my shoulders as she holds me out in front of her. “Your father is shining down on us today.”
Emotion clogs my throat, and I turn to face forward, focusing on the race ahead of me. I bounce on my toes, shaking out my arms. Nerves bubble under my skin.
The horn sounds, and everything fades away. I explode from the starting line, sticking my earbuds in and cranking the volume.
Most of the people keep a steady pace behind me, except Lucas and his lacrosse buddies who sprint down the boardwalk to race.
I chuckle as they scream dumb things at each other.
Out of the corner of my eye, someone comes up alongside me with a strong stride.
Then he passes me.
Black hat, white shirt.
ROBERT MORGANin bold letters between his shoulder blades.
My feet falter as unexpected emotion crawls up my throat. My father liked Landon. Even after our falling out, he told me not to be angry with him; that he was going through a lot; that eventually, he’d come around and apologize. I didn’t want to hear it, of course.
What would he think if he could see us now? If he could see the way I carry this grudge like a suit of armor to protect me from ever trusting anyone again?
I push my legs to catch up to Landon. “Hey, Fletcher.”
He turns his head to the left as I run beside him. “Great day for a run, huh?”
I purse my lips. “What’s with the shirt?”
His eyebrows pinch like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Like he wasn’t the one who typed my father’s name into the personalization section on the website when he purchased it.
“Why did you put my father’s name on it?” I ask, giving him the opportunity to say something—anything—that’d untwist this knot in my gut.
Landon turns to face forward. “That’s who this race is for, is it not?”
