Pepped Up and Ready (Pepper Jones #3) (2 page)

“Why does this feel like goodbye?” I ask to myself, realizing too late I’ve said it out loud. “Not to you,” I amend, “but to a chapter of our lives?”

“The chapter of Pepper and Jace on Shadow Lane?” Jace asks with a smile.

“Is it silly for me to be so sentimental about this?” I ask him, hoping he’ll tell me he feels sad too.

“You’ve been worried about me starting college all summer, Pep. But things aren’t going to change so much. You’ll see,” Jace tells me. He’s so confident, I almost believe him. But I catch the fear lingering in his green eyes.

I kiss him then, hard, hoping to solidify with my lips the faith I have in us. That we will continue to be
us
even as Jace leaves behind his life on Shadow Lane.

A strange melancholy settles over me when I finally climb out of Jace’s Jeep. It follows me through dinner and into bed that night. When I wake up in the morning, a sense of loss is still draped over me like a heavy jacket. I’d take it off if I could, but I know it’s no use.

My phone shows several missed texts and phone calls. Zoe dropped Charlie off at Mountain West yesterday and wants to go on a run with me today. Jace returned from dinner with his dad and brother late last night, and apparently stayed up most of the night packing. I have one voicemail I must have received while hiking yesterday that I never checked before going to sleep.

I hold my breath as I hear the University of Oregon’s head coach introduce herself. Wow. The head coach from the reigning Division I National Champions. Most of the calls up until now were from assistant coaches. I’ve been hoping to get invited for a recruitment trip to Oregon, if only because my running idol, Elsa Blackwood, went there. After college, Elsa turned to marathons, and, now in her thirties, she’s still the best female American distance runner. Hands down.

There’s no way I’ll actually go to Oregon for college though. My life is here, in Brockton, and I doubt I’ll ever leave. But I’m still flattered the coach called me, and I’m not against visiting the school for kicks.

I know I should wait to run with Zoe, who surely wants to recap the goodbye with Charlie, but I need to be alone this morning. Zoe likes to chat away her emotions; I like to run mine away. Seriously, running somehow makes things better. Not all the way better, but enough.

My loyal mutt, Dave, pants quietly beside me as we wind our way through the neighborhood and onto my favorite trail up the foothills. My legs are sore from the run and hike yesterday, and it takes a while before they loosen up. I’ve trained harder this summer than ever before. After winning Nationals last fall, I felt overwhelmed by the pressure during track season. Instead of embracing the challenge of living up to my title as the best female high school distance runner in the country, I completely shied away from it. I feared racing, and found myself more excited about my newfound social life as Jace’s girlfriend than I was about racing.

Somehow, by facing my fears in my relationship with Jace head on – which entailed confronting the ultimate mean girl, Madeline Brescoll, about trying to sabotage our relationship – I also gained the confidence to face my fears on the track.

I know that if I want to be the National Champion again, I can’t coast my way through the summer. Normally, my summer training entails running five to six days a week, with at least one day off from working out each week. With the exception of one long run a week, the rest of the runs Coach Tom has me doing are at an easy pace and no more than five or six miles. I haven’t talked much with Coach this summer, probably because he figures I’m just doing the same base mileage routine I did last year. But I’m not. I’ve nearly doubled my weekly mileage, and I never take a day off. I also lift weights every other day. When I show up for our first practice, I’ll be in the best shape of my life.

Ryan and Coach Tom both drilled into my head the importance of pacing myself – not just in a race, but in training over the course of a season. I get it, but I’ve never been injured before. I’ve never really tested myself. I’ve never trained so hard I thought I might break. Sure, I’ve raced like that, and occasionally I’ll have brutal workouts, but Coach always makes sure I get plenty of rest. Since I’ve started talking to college coaches, I’ve heard plenty about other high school training programs. Most college coaches are surprised, if not shocked, when they hear how low my weekly mileage has been with Coach Tom. If I don’t step it up on my own, I’ll never be ready for college training.

When Dave and I turn back onto Shadow Lane, I find myself running up to the Wilders’ house instead of our apartment building. Running worked its magic. The veil of melancholy has dissipated to a dull ache that I’ve grown used to suppressing.

Jim waves hello to me from the breakfast table and Dave meanders to the kitchen, hunting for scraps, while I make my way down the stairs of their bi-level house. I’m not surprised Jace is still asleep. He has the entire downstairs to himself, and I wonder if Jim will change the space when Jace moves out.

Jace’s lower body is tangled in his bed sheets, and I drink in the sight of his broad back before jumping on the bed next to him. Expecting to startle him awake, he takes me by surprise, tackling me onto my back and smothering me with kisses.

“I heard you coming down the stairs,” he tells me between kisses. “You think you’re pretty stealth, but I was just lying in wait.”

My giggling dies down when I take in the boxes stacked up at the end of his bed. I went straight for Jace, and didn’t notice how empty the rest of his room was.

Jace follows my gaze. “I hope you came ready to work,” he tells me.

“You want me to help you move?” I ask. We have avoided talking about the move. Avoided talking about college. But it’s here now, and it can’t be ignored any longer.

Jace turns to look at me. “I assumed you would.” His voice holds a question.

What exactly are you asking me, Jace? Do you want me to stay by your side? Or do you want some space? Are you going to put distance between us in more ways than one?

“I will,” I assure him.

I watch Jace dig through what’s left in his closet for a pair of athletic shorts.

“Hey, I almost forgot!” I tell him. “The head coach from Oregon called and invited me on a recruit trip.”

Jace pauses before pulling on his shorts slowly. “You sound really excited.” His voice is flat, his jaw tense.

“Well, yeah. It’s Oregon. The best running program in the country. Elsa Blackwood went there.”

“The marathoner?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going?” Jace asks, unmoving.

“On the recruit trip? Yeah, I mean, it’s a free trip. But I’m going to UC, Jace. You know that’s never been a question.”

Jace shrugs. “If you go visit other schools, you might change your mind.”

“You didn’t,” I remind him.

Jace runs a hand over his face. “I know,” he admits. “We need breakfast,” he announces, steering the conversation away from dangerous territory. Talk about the future must be avoided at all costs. It’s simply too scary. The unknown.

***

Jace is in a dorm reserved for freshman and sophomore athletes. I don’t know what makes these dorms special – I suppose less partying so the athletes can sleep. But I do know that Jace’s dorm is guys-only. Most of the other freshmen are housed in co-ed dorms and I’m thankful other girls won’t be ogling him as he walks down the hall from the showers in a towel. I’ll be the first to admit how powerful that image is, and I don’t want anyone else getting its effect but me.

Jim pulls his pickup into a crowded lot and we start to unload the truck bed. Before we can make the first trip up to the third floor, three guys approach the pickup.

“Hi there, we’re here to help you move in,” the one with Greek lettering on his shirt announces, as he looks us over. “You must be Jace Wilder,” he says with a politician’s smile. He reaches out his hand to shake Jace’s. “Gage Fitzgerald, president of Sig Beta, and these are two of our pledges.” He gestures to an absurdly tall guy with a buzz cut, and a nervous kid who doesn’t look old enough to be a college student.

Gage doesn’t offer the pledges’ names but moves along, introducing himself to Jim and me. He seems to know who we are already and it unnerves me.

The pledges unload boxes and duffel bags from the truck’s bed, and Jim, Jace and I ignore Gage’s protests and fill our arms. I can hear him rambling on about various upcoming social events as we make our way up the staircase and I’m happy to hear Jim tell the fraternity guys we can take it from here. It’s a relief when it’s just the three of us in the dorm room. I need to process this. Take it all in without any distractions. This is Jace’s new life.

The room is too warm and I crack a window before plopping down on Jace’s rolled-up comforter in the middle of the room. It’s a common area with four bedroom doors in addition to the main door to the hallway. Someone else has already started moving in because a mini fridge is hooked into an outlet and one of the bedroom doors is propped open with a fan.

We’re all silent, breathing heavily from hauling everything up the stairs, as we look around. Jace pulls the key he was given from his back pocket and unlocks the door with the letter B on it. Before he has a chance to look inside, a bellowing voice greets us. “Hey! The first roommate has arrived,” he greets us jovially. I swivel around to find a very large bald man filling the main entry. Not exactly fat, just extremely . . . big. Meaty is the word that pops into my mind. A meaty bald man. “Frankie!” he hollers over his shoulder.

A younger version of the man peeks his head over his father’s shoulder. “Oh, you’re right there, Frankie,” the older ones says. “Your first roommate is here.”

Frankie might be younger but if possible, he is even larger than his father. Frankie’s face breaks into a grino when he sees Jace. Jim and I exchange confused glances when Jace and Frankie head toward each other for a manly hug.

“You’re my roommate? I seriously have to put up with your stink for an entire year?” Jace jokes, punching Frankie’s humongous bicep.

Frankie rubs his arm in fake pain. “Dude, you know I’m your dream roommate.” Frankie finally looks around, noticing his audience for the first time. When his eyes lock on me, his smile gets even wider.

“You must be Miss Pepper,” Frankie says as he makes his way toward me. “I’m Franklin Zimmer.”

When I stand up, I’m enveloped in a bear hug. “It’s nice to meet you,” I manage to get out, though it’s muffled.

“All right, all right, take it easy, Frankie,” Jace mock-warns.

As the introductions are made, we learn that Frankie and Jace were roommates for two summers at football camp in Texas. Once that’s been established, I recall Jace mentioning Frankie on several occasions, especially when he found out Frankie would be a freshman with him at UC.

Frankie’s from Kansas, and his dad, Rick, is disappointed Frankie isn’t going to his alma mater, KU. Frankie tells us not to feel sorry for Rick because he has four more opportunities to see a son play football at KU, since Frankie has four younger brothers.

The afternoon is spent unpacking and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach grows as the boxes and bags empty out.

“All right man, we gotta head out for practice in five!” Frankie calls from his bedroom several hours later.

Jim says a quick goodbye to Jace. They aren’t sentimental types. And besides, he’s not going to be far away. Geographically, that is. Frankie and Rick have been going on about all the various football workouts and social functions lined up for the team over the next few weeks, and I know I won’t be seeing much of Jace.

It’s just me and Jace in the room now, and he tugs the bottom of my tee shirt until I’m close to him. There’s no denying how I feel any more. The fear is weighing down on me, making it hard to breathe.

“Pep.” Jace’s voice is pained, and I know he can read the emotions on my face. “It’s going to be okay, you know? Of course it will be different, but we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I know.” The confidence in my voice is false, and we both know it. “I just hate change,” I finally admit after a moment of silence. And upon that admission, a stupid tear escapes and trickles down the side of my face. I quickly wipe it with the back of my hand and look away. “Argh!” I feel like stomping my foot in frustration, hating myself for acting like such an emotional girl.

This is Jace Wilder, and you don’t ease into anything with him. We won’t ease into this transition. It will come on full force, like everything does with Jace. And when it hits us we won’t be the same. Maybe it will be a good change, and maybe it won’t.

When Frankie returns, our goodbye is cut short with a brief kiss before Jace is hustling me down to the pickup so he can head over to the field house.

Zoe’s sitting on the stairs outside my apartment building when Jim drops me off a few minutes later, and I’m thankful for the distraction. She gives me an annoyed look for blowing her off this morning, but all it takes is a simple apology from me, explaining it was Jace’s moving day, and she’s over it.

Instead of hearing all about her trip to Mountain West yesterday, Zoe surprises me with news of a party she is dragging me to later tonight. Normally I would beg off immediately – I’m usually only one for big parties if Jace is with me – but I’m reluctant to be alone with my thoughts tonight. Gran has bridge night and the apartment holds too much of Jace – too much of him that is already starting to feel like the past. Like distant nostalgic memories.

“Yeah, so I ran into Dana this morning at the gas station and Tina’s throwing this end-of-the-summer thing. I guess we hadn’t heard about it because it’s not, like, something everyone at Public is invited to,” Zoe explains. As usual, she’s practically bouncing with energy. “I got the feeling it was sort of exclusive, and that Dana thought she was doing me a big favor inviting us. And she made sure to tell me at least three times that you should come too.”

I roll my eyes as I fill two glasses with lemonade from the fridge, handing one to Zoe. “Cheers.” We clink glasses.