Page 41 of Ruthless Edge

I turn around.

Knox Carter is walking toward me at the head of what appears to be roughly half the Ridgehaven hockey team. They're wearing athletic gear and black eye paint and headbands, expressions like they've been briefed on a mission, like they've come to invade somewhere. Declan is cracking his knuckles. Knox’s brother Noah is looking everything over critically. The remaining triplet, Blake, is just scowling at nothing at all. Luca is wearing a headband with what appears to be a small flame on it, which looks just a little ridiculous.

Knox walks straight up to me. "Where do you want us?"

I stare at him. "What are you doing here?"

"You needed participants." He says it like it's obvious. Like the answer to why eleven hockey players showed up to a charity fun run in eye paint is so self-evident that explaining it is almost an insult. "We're participants."

I look at the team. The team looks at me with varying degrees of game-face commitment. Declan gives me a nod.

"You," I say. "Did this?"

"You need us, so we’re here. Registration booth's over there?" Knox points.

"Knox—"

"We'll check ourselves in." He's already moving. "You probably have things to do."

I stand there watching eleven hockey players descend on Becca and her clipboard while I try to figure out what to do with the fact that Knox Carter just showed up to save the day and made it look completely casual. It's annoying. I don't know why I find it annoying. It's also the reason the registration numbers are going to look the way Becca said they look.

"Emma."

I turn. Owen is jogging toward me from the parking area, in a proper athletic kit with running shoes that suggest he's done this before. Which, I know he has. When he agreed to participate, he’d mention running three different marathons in the past. He looks good. He smiles when he sees me and I smile back, and then Knox reappears at my shoulder with a timing that I choose to believe is coincidental.

"Hey." Owen looks at the team assembling behind Knox. "You brought people."

"Emma needed the numbers." Knox is already looking back toward the registration area. "We should get in line."

Owen watches him go. Then looks at me. "You okay?"

"Completely fine," I say. "Let's warm up."

The starting signal sounds at nine on the dot, which I appreciate. The field is crowded, a hundred or so people spreading out across the lawn as the first obstacle zone comes into view. The water balloon zone. Volunteers are stationed on both sides with enormous buckets, and I can already see people laughing and shrieking thirty feet ahead of us.

Owen looks at the setup with competitive eyes. "I'm going to run the perimeter," he says. "See you on the other side." Then he takes off, quick and efficient, angling away from the central chaos.

I look at the central chaos.

A water balloon hits me in the shoulder before I've made a decision. Then one in the chest. Then two in quick succession at my feet that splash up my shins. The volunteers have excellent aim and apparently no mercy.

"Emma." Something large appears at my side. Knox. "Arms up."

"I don't need⁠—"

He scoops me off the ground as I yelp and grab his shoulders while he runs, actually runs, through the remaining balloon zone with me over his shoulder like this is a normal thing to do, like this is an expected mode of transport. I can hear the volunteers targeting him instead of me now and his shoulders shake with laughing while he takes every hit.

"Knox, put me down⁠—"

"Almost through⁠—"

"I swear to God⁠—"

He sets me down on the other side, breathing like he barely exerted himself, while I try to find my footing and my dignity, both of which are somewhere back in the balloon zone. I'm soaking wet. He's also soaking wet, and he's grinning, and I'm trying not to laugh and losing.

"You're a menace," I tell him, “but thank you.”

"You're welcome," he says, and points at the next obstacle.