The Last Gift

by Chrissy Munder

  Most of Nick’s family were involved. His sister sang in one choir and his grandfather in the other. His mom and dad rented space to showcase and sell her handmade quilts, and she threatened to cut off his bun if he didn’t stop by.

  His favorite part was the run. The city lined the entire 5K course with luminaries, or in this case, sand-filled plastic milk jugs with one side cut down and candles stuck in the sand to light the dark and snowy streets. It was pretty cool.

  He made a final check of his gear and grabbed his car keys. The race started at a local park, winding through a couple of neighborhoods before ending up downtown. The drive usually only took about ten minutes, but traffic was thick, the roads slow to clear after the parade passed through.

  Nick searched the crowded parking for a spot, finally easing his old beater onto the snow-covered grass doubling as an overflow lot. His balding tires slid over the icy spots, but he came to a halt without hitting anything.

  The registration line snaked out into the road. Nick waited his turn to pick his number, commemorative T-shirt, and talked the guy at the table into giving him an extra strip of the jingly bells the race was named after. Nick fixed his tracking chip and the bells to his shoelaces and followed the crowd over to the starting point.

  The street was lined with festivalgoers eager to cheer the athletes on, their enthusiasm lifting Nick’s mood even more. His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his bellyband, smiling at the “Good Luck” text from his parents. They were probably at the beer tent enjoying a hot cider before setting up their table.

  He bounced in place, his shoes jingling along with everyone’s around him, then windmilled his arms to loosen up his frozen joints, letting his mind tick over the main points of the course.

  “Hey, Nick!”

  Nick turned toward the voice calling his name and froze faster than any icicle when he saw Aaron standing beside another man, but waving at him. “Aaron?” he choked out, surprise tightening his throat.

  Aaron pushed through the crowd, the other man close behind. “Hey,” he said again once they got closer.

  Nick twisted his ring under his gloves, his stomach fluttering. He couldn’t help but compare Aaron’s top-of-the-line compression leggings—dear Lord, those thighs—and zippered fleece with his own, more ragged wear.

  He pushed a few loose strands of hair off his forehead, self-conscious all of a sudden about his reindeer antler headband, complete with battery-operated lights. Awesome if his goal was to make his sister laugh and lose her place when singing, not so high on his how-to-impress-a-hot-guy list.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here.” Aaron’s blue eyes shone with excitement, his face flushed with the cold. His friend, dressed similarly to Aaron but with darker brown hair, gave Nick an up-and-down that left him feeling like one of his programming instructors had accused him of code smell.

  “Uh, yeah. Wouldn’t miss it. This is one of my favorite 5K events.” Nick dug his shoe into the snow, clearing a tiny patch of pavement. His shoulders tensed, and he battled inwardly, torn between searching for a way to cope with Aaron outside their usual setting and inviting him over to meet his family. He needed a happy medium. “Hard to believe how big it’s become.”

  “You’ve run this race before?” Aaron bent over, holding his thin gloves between his teeth while he fastened his bells onto his shoes in imitation of Nick.

  So. Unfair. Nick swallowed, unable to keep from soaking in every long, lean line of Aaron’s flexible body. “Sure. Last year I helped set out the luminaries, but my schedule was too heavy this time.”

  Nick glanced at the man beside Aaron, who watched him watch Aaron with a lift to his eyebrows. Crap. Please don’t let this be Aaron’s boyfriend. Please. Please. He reached out his hand, determined to do right by Aaron no matter the outcome. “Hi, I’m Nick.”

  “Oh God.” Aaron covered his eyes with his regloved palm. “I’m so sorry.” He gestured between them. “Nick, this is Matt, one of my coworkers. We run together most mornings. Matt, this is Nick.”

  Despite the hyperventilating part of him raised on his grandmother’s etiquette lessons—Aaron used his name first! OMG—Nick’s mouth literally dropped open at the rest of Aaron’s statement. He’d own it. Sheer horror did that to a guy. “You mean you’re up even earlier than when I see you? Deliberately?”

  “Hey,” Aaron protested. “Aren’t you up before I am?”

  “I’m doing it to make money, not because I’m a masochist.” Nick’s tone made it very clear how foolish he found Aaron’s question, but before their conversation spiraled into an argumentative rabbit hole, Aaron’s friend broke in.

  “This is ‘Going to be a Good Day Nick’?” Matt looked back and forth between the two men and met Nick’s hand in a firm shake. “Pleased to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “You have?” Nick squeaked. He had a nickname? He looked at Aaron. What? Why? When? With the cold weather band over Aaron’s ears, Nick couldn’t catch his usual telltale flush, but a surge of color crept down his neck. Interesting.

  “Always good to meet Aaron’s friends.” Matt nodded like he understood all the undercurrents beneath their careful politeness. Which was good, because Nick sure didn’t. “So, Nick, other than deciding who’s naughty and who’s nice, what do you do?”

  Aaron punched Matt’s arm at the joke. Not like Nick hadn’t heard a thousand variations before, especially this time of year. Nick shook his head, a warm tingle zipping through him at being referred to as one of Aaron’s friends.

  “Work too much, go to school too much, sleep too little,” he answered. “Try to squeeze in a run when I can.”

  Matt looked intrigued. “I miss being an irresponsible student. What are you studying?”

  “My degree will be in computer programming, with a concentration in applications for neuroscience and imaging.” His answer usually shut people down, their eyes glazed and a comment about how he must be a nerd.

  “Really?”

  Matt appeared more animated. Should Nick worry?

  “What are you using for your core software foundation?”

  “I do a lot with MATLAB,” Nick said. “But I’ve also worked with Python and Octave.” Not like the names would mean anything to anyone outside the field.

  Matt whistled. “Isn’t the SPM8 freeware based on MATLAB?”

  Nick nodded. “You’re familiar with the programs?”

  “No, no. Too much math for my tastes,” Matt said. “But I dated a woman who worked in signal analysis, and man, did she complain about how complex the systems were.”

  To Nick’s surprise, he and Matt fell into an easy discussion while they warmed up. Aaron stayed quiet, apparently happy to focus on the physical moment and leave the conversation to them. Nick worried about ignoring him, but Aaron appeared pleased and maybe even proud at how easily Nick fit in with his friend.

  Before Matt could start off on another tangent, Nick brought their discussion back to running, and Aaron joined in. They touched on a few of the other racing events in the area, and Matt asked Nick’s pace time. Matt fist pumped at Nick’s reply.

  “Yes. There is a God.”

  He slapped Aaron on the bicep, making Nick bite his lower lip in envy. Aaron’s arm was solid muscle; no give, no jiggle. Heaven.

  “Here’s your partner for the race.” He gestured to Nick.

  “What?” Nick asked, surprised at Matt’s quick wink.

  “You and Aaron have almost the same pace. I’m not as fast of a runner, and it’s a stretch for me most mornings. You’ve saved me.”

  Aaron frowned, rising out of his forward fold to face his friend. “Matt, come on. You can keep up.”

  “You guys came to race together,” Nick began. He was a bad, bad man. He should feel uncomfortable at interfering with their plans, not excited at the thought of spending more alone time with Aaron.

  Matt shook his head. “You two came to race. I’m here to support the hospital and get in th
e workout I missed today. Not kill myself.”

  Aaron appeared unconvinced, but Matt stood firm.

  “You and Nick can cheer me in at the finish line.”

  V

  ANY FURTHER argument was cut off by the blare of a bullhorn. The actual words were barely decipherable, but the surge of the crowd to the orange starting line spray-painted across the snowy roadway was easy enough to understand. The race moderators used a standard format: walkers to the back, runners to the front with staggered start times depending on their ability.

  Nick shook hands with Matt again. He wished him a good run and joined Aaron at the appropriate marker.

  “I’m sorry to have chased away your friend.”

  Aaron brushed off Nick’s apology with a surprisingly competitive grin. “Matt’s a big boy, and he’s right. I run him into the ground most days.” He tugged his ear-band more snuggly over his ears and kicked his feet against the pavement with a jingle. “I like your antlers.”

  The last of Nick’s tension drained away. “Yeah? You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He pressed the button on the side of the headband and the lights flickered on. “If you can keep up, I’ll buy you a pair of your own.”

  “What if I beat you?” Aaron’s grin grew even wider.

  “Like that’ll happen.” Nick scoffed. He checked the safety pins fixing his number to the front of his hoodie.

  “You’re on.”

  The horn went off, and they ran in place for a few seconds, letting the runners ahead of them take off and leave a pocket for them to stride into. Dusk had turned to night, and the luminaries glowed along either side of the street, outlining each twist and turn of the course.

  Nick inhaled, warming the air before it hit his lungs. He glanced over at Aaron, pleased to see he was matching Nick’s easy starting pace. No reason to crank up their speed until the crowds had thinned. A couple of obviously newer runners pushed past them, darting through the clumps of people ahead.

  “They’ll be sorry,” Aaron pointed out.

  Nick nodded. “I made the same mistake my first race.” He grimaced. “You can call me the king of regrets.”

  “Me too,” Aaron said. “I ended up with the hamstring pull from hell and didn’t finish.”

  “Oh man. That’s rough.” Nick had experienced a severe calf injury only once. He included his rehab stretches in his prerun warm-up and kept his fingers crossed he wouldn’t have another.

  “Took me three weeks to recover.” Aaron had settled into his stride, and Nick stayed to his left, their footfalls crunching through the snow in matching rhythm, the bells on their shoes jangling. “It was the only time Matt and I trained together and he didn’t complain.”

  Nick hiccupped a laugh, picturing an injured Aaron hobbling along next to a smug Matt. “Have you known him long?”

  Aaron nodded. “Met him in law school but didn’t exactly get along. We competed for a couple of internships. Then we ended up in the same firm.” He glanced at Nick. “He thinks you’re smart.”

  “How do you figure?” Nick snorted. They had only had a few minutes’ conversation.

  “He talked to you.” Aaron wiped his forehead, the huff of his exhalation visible in the cold air. “He’s kind of harsh that way. Doesn’t care to waste his time.”

  Oh. Nick wasn’t sure how to answer. Anything he came up with either sounded disparaging of Aaron’s friend or ridiculously arrogant. “Seems like a good guy.”

  By silent but mutual agreement, they focused on the terrain ahead. The crowd had cleared, runners pulling forward and dropping behind. Nick admired the holiday lights and decorated houses they ran past, as well as the flicker of the candles.

  Peace settled over him, the light snowfall adding to the timelessness of the experience. He didn’t have to worry about his classes or finances. All he had to do was enjoy the stretch in his muscles and let the controlled sound of Aaron’s breathing pull him forward. Their first mile seemed to fly by, same with their second. Nick couldn’t remember the last time running had felt so effortless.

  “Ugly Sweater” volunteers from the high school manned a water station before the third leg of the race. Some wore Santa hats, and others displayed reindeer horns similar to his. They stood to one side of the road. Eager to cheer the athletes on with jingling sleigh bells or handing out water as they sped past.

  Nick fell behind Aaron, enjoying the view so much, he almost broke stride and missed his hand-off. He downed the liquid quickly, happy to blame the flush of embarrassment on the chill in the air. They ran past a series of trash barrels, crumpling and pitching their empties. Aaron gave a Rocky victory shuffle when his cup went right in.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Nick grumbled when his own projectile hit the ground along with so many others. “Keep it moving.”

  He checked his watch and picked up speed. Looked like he enjoyed watching Aaron a little too much. He pulled slightly ahead and grinned at the determined press of Aaron’s lips as they approached the third mile mark.

  “What do you have left?” Nick asked.

  “Enough,” Aaron panted. “Ready to give it a go?”

  In answer Nick picked up speed again. Aaron swore but kept up. They swept down a small hill, the footing more sure with the snow worn away by the runners ahead of them.

  Nick pulled ahead right before they reached the series of orange cones herding them toward the actual finish line and the electronics to pick up their info from their trackers.

  With the end in sight, Aaron kicked it up as well, elbowing Nick as he passed him and dove into the cones ahead. The giant overhead clock ticked down the seconds, three faster than Nick’s best time.

  “Damn,” Nick laughed, fondness bubbling through him at Aaron’s show of competitiveness. He dropped his speed once he crossed the marker, and they walked out the chute, hands on their hips as they cooled down. “That was awesome.”

  “You’re a much better loser than Matt usually is.”

  Aaron beamed when Nick smacked him. His blue eyes made even bluer by the LED lighting around the aid station. They grabbed a couple bottles of water, a banana, and a bagel apiece, and walked back toward the finish line.

  “How long do you think Matt will be?” Nick asked, his fingers still tingling from Aaron’s firm bicep.

  Aaron snorted mid-drink. Water spilled out his nose, and Nick collapsed over his knees with laughter. Aaron finished his bottle and tossed it at Nick’s head. This time it was Nick who gave the Rocky victory dance when Aaron missed.

  “Depends on if he found an attractive woman to run with.” Aaron demolished his bagel in three easy bites and started to peel his banana. “We might be here awhile.”

  Nick turned to stare at the electronic clock and tore his own bagel in half. He bit into one section with a teeth-jarring snap. He abso-motherfrickin’-lutely refused to watch Aaron Hampton eat a banana.

  Payback was the only way to deal. “Tell me about ‘Going to be a Good Day Nick,’” he said.

  Aaron stumbled and dropped the empty banana peel. For the first time since Nick had met him, his face paled instead of flushed. “What? No!”

  Nick gave himself a mental high five. Served Aaron right, the banana-eating tease. Fine. He peeked. Truly a glorious sight. Not that he’d ever admit it. “You said we could be here awhile.”

  The bells on Aaron’s shoes jingled when he shifted his feet. “Can’t we forget about Matt’s big mouth?”

  “Nope.” Nick stretched his answer out. “Not a chance.”

  They stared at each other, the sights and sounds of the celebration around them fading from Nick’s focus. All he could do was fall deeper into the brilliant blue warmth of Aaron’s eyes. He wasn’t sure which one of them leaned in closer, but there they were. Nick took hold of his shaky resolve and opened his mouth to ask—

  “Nicky!”

  Nick and Aaron jumped apart, Nick with the same sinking embarrassment he felt when he was twelve and his ma caught him in the basement with the Williamson boy
from next door.

  The problem hadn’t been Nick being with a boy. Her issue had been more disappointment he chose to experiment with Neil Williamson, since she never got along with his mother.

  With the hindsight of twelve additional years and more than a few ex-boyfriends, Nick could see her point. At least Aaron was head and shoulders above anyone else he’d brought home. Literally. All good, because it was his ma who currently had her arms wrapped around him like she hadn’t seen him in months. Which, fine, wasn’t far from the truth.

  “Sweetie. How are you?”

  The white bobble on the end of her Santa hat hit Nick in the face when he attempted an answer, and she barreled over anything he might have said like always. “How was the run? Did you beat last year’s time? I’m sorry we weren’t here to cheer you in. Your sister broke a heel and needed a new pair of shoes before the concert started. I gave your father the mission but missed you anyway. Hold still and let me fix your hair.”

  “Sorry,” Nick mouthed to Aaron over the top of his armful of motherly love. His family was an acquired taste. One he tried not to introduce to prospective partners until further along in the relationship. “My hair’s fine, Ma.”

  Aaron’s eyes were wide and blue and full of fond amusement. So much so that despite Nick’s mother chattering away in his ear, they held his attention to the point where even she noticed.

  “Who’s this, honey?” she asked, her own eyes widening with an approval she reinforced with an elbow to Nick’s ribs. Even muffled by her puffy winter coat the pressure made him wince. She turned to greet Aaron. “I’m Carla Reed, Nicky’s mother.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Aaron responded, the amusement in his eyes morphing into mild panic with Nick no longer the center of her attention.

  “This is Aaron, Ma.” Nick decided not to let her torture Aaron too much. “He’s a friend from work.”

  “Really?”

  She poked Aaron in the bicep. “I thought he was… shorter.”