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"Asher won't be available and I can't afford a trip to Aruba right now. What if you come here? The mountains would makethe perfect backdrop for a video." I called Ava to help me build my profile, so that when I do start applying for jobs in six months, I'll have something I can show to prove I can bring in clients. If I get lucky, maybe I can build my own business back up. I'm not ready to sell my soul, but maybe if there are products I really believe in and can get behind…
Mom has been working hard over the past two days to convince me I'm not like my father and I don't have a gift of persuasion that will hurt people. Changing what I've believed about myself for over a decade isn't easy, but what she says feels real. It feels like a truth I've been ignoring. Maybe because it's easier to refuse to sell anything than to put myself out there and risk negative feedback.
But before anyone's going to want me to sell their products, I have to build my profile. That's what it all comes back to - everyone wants someone who's already got a following.
"Clo, no one wants to look at chilly mountains when it's still cold outside. Everyone's thinking about the beach and looking forward to summer. We're selling sunshine and good vibes. The mountains are pretty, but they're off brand for me."
And I'm not in a position to suggest my brand is different and we ought to try it. "Okay. But I still can't afford to fly anywhere. How about a beach on the East Coast? Somewhere I can drive in a day."
"I'll scout some locations." Ava sounds genuinely excited. "I'm thinking we can schedule it for three weeks from now. Does that give you time to prepare?"
"That should be enough time. Thank you again for helping me out."
"Of course," she says, genuinely. "Women have to stick together and you're so good, Clo. You deserve the opportunity to spread your wisdom and light to the world."
As cheesy as it sounds, Ava means every word. "You're sweet to say so. How is Marla?" Marla is Ava's girlfriend of almost a year.
She blows a raspberry. "She didn't understand my vision. You know how it is. She didn't see what I do as helping people, but as some sort of narcissistic attention grab, so every time I had to do something for work rather than spending time with her, she got all worked up about it. We were never going to work."
"I'm sorry, Ava. The right person is out there for you somewhere."
"I'm not looking for the right person," she says. "Business first, love later. That's my new motto. I'm just not the kind of multi-tasker who can keep someone happy and run my business the way I want."
"I hear you."
We chat a bit more, then I scout a good spot and make some videos of myself stretching against the backdrop of the forest. I talk about my knee injury and the dangers of over training, and I demonstrate stretches to help with an overuse injury.
By the time the first racers appear at the trail head, I'm back in my car, on the verge of falling asleep with boredom. I don't know why I can't leave, but I have to see the finishers for the race I couldn't make it to.
By the time my cousin Riley emerges from the forest in the first quarter of the pack, the rest of our enormous crew is back, including Mr. Winfield. I stand on the edge of the crowd, cheering for my cousins and watching for the one face I most want to see. Not because I'm so hung up on Asher, but because he's not an endurance athlete, and I want to make sure he's made it through okay.
He comes out in a group of runners, towering above them. He scans the crowd as he runs the last downhill stretch, looking for someone, probably his father.
But when his eyes lock on mine, he stops searching. His smile is so damn happy, even though he's clearly exhausted, that my heart flips and my stomach drops.
I can't take my eyes off him, but this can't be right. How can he smile at me if he's read the letter? How can he feel anything but hate for the woman whose father took everything from his family?
CHAPTER THIRTY
Asher
When I see Clover waiting at the finish line, I know everything will be okay. My legs and lungs ache, I'm more exhausted than I've ever been in my life, and I'm pretty sure I've sweated out all the fluid in my body, but if Clover is here that means she cares. And if she cares, nothing else matters.
I weave through the celebrants and families. I've finished near the last third, I think, so there aren't too many spectators or runners left, but even a handful of people between me and Clover feels like too many.
She's standing next to my father when I reach her. He slaps me on the back and whispers in my ear, "Go get her, boy," before disappearing into the crowd. I've never been so lucky as I was when my mother chose him.
"Hey," I say to Clover, unable to look away from her beautiful face. "Did I make you proud, coach?"
She swallows hard and presses her hand to her chest. "I don't understand. Your Dad said you read the letter. You should hate me."
"Yeah, you said that in the letter, but I pride myself on being unpredictable."
She looks completely lost.
"Can we go somewhere and talk? Or do you have to stay and wait for your—"
Just then someone screams like a rabbit being chased by a fox. Clover and I spin to see two men emerge from the trail,covered head-to-toe in mud. It looks like one is running from the other and screaming like he's got a serial killer on his tail.
