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“I am too sweating.”
She dared a quick glance. “Barely. I’m dripping.”
He sprinted ahead of her and spun, standing directly in her path. She barely stopped herself before colliding with him.
“Hey! What are you—”
His arms encircled her, squashing her against his sopping wet shirt.
“Gross!” she shouted, though part of her was enjoying being pressed against him, wrapped in arms with to-die-for biceps. She added a half-hearted, “Let me go.”
Sadly, he complied. “Told you I was sweating.”
“Yuck! I believe you now. But you didn’t look like you were putting out much effort.”
“It actually takes a lot more energy to run with a prosthesis.”
“I thought it might be easier, with that springy thing on the bottom.”
“This helps absorb the shock, but it doesn’t help me swing my leg forward. Also, I have to run with a forefoot strike on my natural leg.”
“Like a barefoot runner?”
“Exactly. You should try running that way. It’s better for your joints.”
“I would, but it might slow me down, and you’re already faster than me.”
“Everything isn’t a competition, Rylie.”
She gave him her best what-planet-are-you-from look. “Yeah, it is.”
“In that case, I think I just won the sweating contest.”
She looked down at his wet imprint on her t-shirt.
“Yeah, you did.”
* * *
Back from theirrun in time for Gabe’s nightly routine, Jarrett gave Gabe a bath and then listened as Rylie read him a book. Then came prayer time, which Gabe seemed to thoroughly enjoy, though he didn’t comprehend most of their words. At the hospital, they would sit on his bed with him in the middle, each holding one of his hands. But tonight, Gabe insisted the two of them hold hands as well, physically forcing their hands together. Jarrett didn’t mind holding Rylie’s hand, admiring the velvety texture of her skin, but her fingers were stiff in his. Perhaps even hand-holding violated her version of a platonic relationship.
He was lucky she hadn’t slapped him when he gave her that sweaty hug on the running trail. What had come over him to do such a thing? Part of it was simply how fun she was to tease. But he had to admit, when he’d felt her soft form against him, he hadn’t been in a rush to let her go. Maybe it was because he hadn’t dated anyone at all the past year and a half, throwing himself into his work and his charities. That must be it—he was so starved for female company he’d forgotten how to act around a female friend like Rylie.
Thankfully, she hadn’t mentioned the incident again, though she’d avoided the possibility of any repeat physical contact, turning down Jarrett’s offer to sit in the hot tub together. She’d claimed she would have to shave her legs, but he knew better. He’d been admiring those silky legs for most of the forty-five minutes on the running trail.
“You want to go first?” Rylie said, reminding him why they were holding hands with Gabe.
He prayed a simple prayer, asking God to heal Gabe, and Rylie added her sweet words, always including a request that God would “bless our family.” Jarrett was surprised at how much he liked feeling a part of that phrase. Gabe ended the session with a hearty “Amen,” and Rylie tucked the covers around him, adding a weighted blanket, meant to make him feel more secure.
“Jarrett, why don’t you scoot that beanbag chair over here in case I need it tonight.”
“If anyone sleeps on this beanbag tonight, it’s going to be me,” Jarrett said, as he positioned it beside the bed.
“My room is closer, so I’m the one who’s likely to wake up,” she said. “What do you want me to do? Get out of bed and go into your room to wake you?”
“You forget, I’ll be sleeping on the floor in your room tonight,” Jarrett said, glancing down the hallway to be sure his mother wasn’t eavesdropping.
“I hadn’t thought about that.” Rylie’s face turned white. “You shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor. You have to work tomorrow.”
