Cut Free (The Sublime Book 4)

by Julia Wolf

  The sidewalks were packed with people out to cheer for the runners. When I walked through water stations, I read signs people were holding that made me laugh. One said, “Where is everyone going?” And another said, “Great job, random stranger!”

  At mile fifteen, my legs were protesting, but in a different way than before. They were yelling, why are you doing this to us? I knew what was coming. My legs knew what was coming. The next four miles were all uphill.

  They say it’s easier on runners to run on a course with a varying terrain so you’re not using the same muscles the entire time. I didn’t know who they were, but clearly, they were sadists. Who in their right mind would think uphill running for four straight miles was a good idea? Obviously, they got off on our pain.

  Just when I wanted to walk and maybe have a little cry, I noticed a little girl holding a sign that said, “Eliza! Charlie says you’ve got this!” A sob choked out of me, but as soon as it left my body, a laugh bubbled up to replace it. I high-fived the little girl and kept going.

  The sun decided to start glaring down on the race course just as the uphill battle began. Early June in Baltimore could either feel like a lovely spring day or the inner circle of Hell. Today had started as the former, but was turning into the latter, only more humid than Hell had ever been.

  I slowed at a hydration station and sipped Gatorade from a paper cup. I didn’t stop, though. I knew if I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to get going again.

  Just as I had convinced myself I had to run again, that giving up and living in that spot for the rest of my life was not a viable option, another sign caught my eye. It said, “Charlie says this is the worst parade ever!” I didn’t recognize the man holding it, but I high-fived him too.

  Charlie had left signs with different people along the entire uphill portion of the race. I saw at least five or six with his or my name on them. I didn’t know how he’d arranged it, but I felt him there with me, cheering me on and making me laugh. It was exactly what I needed to be able to push through that torturous portion of the race.

  When I crested the hill, at first, I thought I was seeing a mirage. Seven of my heads, twenty times its normal size, appeared to be floating. I had to be delirious from the heat and dehydration.

  But then I approached and realized Rachel, Joe, Frannie, James, Laurel, Ryan, and Marcus were all waving pictures of my face blown up to massive proportions. Months ago, Rachel had promised she’d do this if I ever ran a marathon, and apparently, she hadn’t forgotten.

  They started screaming my name when they saw me. Frannie held out a baggie of gummy bears that I gratefully accepted, and they all yelled encouraging words as I moved past them.

  I almost tripped when I heard Laurel shout, “Your ass looks awesome, Eliza!”

  Seeing my crazy friends was like a shot to the heart. It gave me the boost I needed to keep going. I was surprised Charlie wasn’t with them, but I knew he was there somewhere. He had to be.

  When I passed the twenty-mile marker, I didn’t hit the infamous wall like I expected to. I wouldn’t say I felt good. I was tired as hell and my legs and feet were sore. But I was getting more and more confident I could do it—I could run a marathon.

  Someone had opened up the fire hydrants, and on every block, I was misted with cool water, making the heat more bearable, and at mile twenty-one, the course started heading back downhill.

  I was eating my gummy bears and taking in the crowds. People had come out of their rowhomes and set up folding chairs on the sidewalks to cheer for the runners. It was impossible not to smile at their enthusiasm.

  I was getting cocky. Too cocky. At mile twenty-two, I stepped in a puddle left from the spray of the fire hydrant. My entire foot was soaked—shoe, fancy sock, and skin. With every step I took, there was a horrific squishing sound.

  This isn’t going to be good.

  By mile twenty-three, I could feel the blisters forming on my wet foot. Suddenly the three miles I had left seemed insurmountable. Every time my foot lifted from the pavement, it rubbed against my sodden shoe. Each step was becoming more painful.

  I can do this. I can power through. I can do this. I can power through.

  I repeated this mantra even though I wasn’t quite sure it was true. But then, at mile twenty-four, I heard my name.

  “Miss Eliiiiiiza! You’re so amazing!”

  Charlie.

  He was standing there, packed in with the swarms of people, but I only saw him. His arms were above his head, holding a sign that said, “Toenails are for quitters!”

  “I love you!” he yelled.

  I laughed, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I love you too, Charlie!”

  He pointed at me. “See you at the finish line!”

  I nodded. “Yeah, you will!”

  Finishing this thing seemed possible now, blisters and all, since I knew Charlie would be there waiting for me. So I ran. I was slow, not going to break any records this time, but I was steady, my steam gauge on low, just enough left to get me there.

  At mile twenty-five, I could almost taste the end. There were so many people out on the sidewalks, it was more like a party than a race. There was music and celebrations happening all around me. It lifted me up, and I floated on it, my feet barely touching the ground as my legs pumped.

  Then, I was crossing the finish line. I’d had an almost out-of-body experience for the last mile. I was there, but I was almost drifting above, watching it happen. But once I was feet from the finish line, I was fully present and so bursting with joy, relief, exhaustion, elation, and every other emotion, I was overwhelmed. I was laughing and crying at the same time as I took that last step and my finishing time was recorded. I didn’t even care what my time was—I had finished and I wasn’t last. Not even close to last.

  I walked down the length of the cool-down area, with my hands on my hips, trying to get control of both my breathing and emotions.

  I did that.

  A year ago, I was still with Edward, living the life my parents wanted. Running a marathon was a pipe dream. But here I was, a year later, and I’d done it! My knees had declared me their mortal enemy and my poor foot would probably never be the same, but I’d conquered this race and put it to shame.

  At some point, a medal was slipped over my head, and the weight of it grounded me. When I lifted it up to look at it, I grinned. It was in the shape of a crab. Of course it’s a crab.

  I looked up again, and my eyes locked on Charlie’s. He was waiting at the end of the gated off area, a smile just for me. He held out his arms, and I went to him.

  “You did it!” he cried.

  I nodded and laughed into his chest. “I really did!”

  I melted into him, and he held me tightly. I knew I was sweaty and gross, but he didn’t hesitate to bury his face in my hair.

  “I’m so, so proud of you,” he whispered.

  “Me too. You were with me,” I whispered back.

  “I think that’s gotta be my preferred way to run a marathon. You look really fucking tired.”

  I laughed and weakly swatted at his chest. “Oh, you’re running with me next time. I will not accept broken bones as an excuse.”

  “I can’t believe you’re talking about next time when you can barely stand now.”

  I tipped my head back to look up at him. “I stepped in a puddle and I’m afraid to even look at my foot now. I have a feeling it’s going to be really gross.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Grosser than your janky toe?”

  I nodded. “We’re talking blisters upon blisters.”

  “Shit. I didn’t realize you were hurt. I’d carry you if I didn’t have a fucking lame foot.”

  “Eliza! You did it!”

  Over Charlie’s shoulder, my friends were approaching, Frannie leading the charge. He had to let me go so she could swoop me into her arms, and then I was passed around from friend to friend for hugs and congratulations.

  “Oh god, you stink!” said Ryan.

  Ma
rcus laughed and pushed him away. “Jesus, Ryan. The woman just ran twenty-six miles!”

  I grinned and shook my head. “What? You mean this liquid pouring off me isn’t perfume? I thought I smelled like roses.”

  “Did you like the gummy bears?” Frannie asked.

  “I did. I think it was the giant pictures of my face combined with the sugar from the gummy bears that got me through. Well, that and Charlie’s signs.”

  “You looked so intense,” Rachel said.

  Joe nodded. “You’re a badass, Eliza.”

  Charlie wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned my head on him. “She’s fierce.”

  “You guys have no idea how much your support meant to me. I was really doubting myself a few times, but then there you were, reminding me I could do it.”

  Frannie gestured around to the group. “None of us ever doubted you, E. We knew you would kick the shit out of this race.”

  James said in his baritone voice, “Good job, Eliza.”

  I smiled at him. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, it was full of heart. “Thank you, James. Hey, could I ask you a favor?”

  He furrowed his brow, obviously surprised by my request. “Sure.”

  “I kind of messed up my foot and I’m pretty sure I can’t get back to the car. Are you available for a piggyback ride?”

  He turned around and bent down. “Hop on.”

  I was trying to figure out how to leap onto his back, because even bending down, he was a giant, when Frannie said, “Here, shorty, let me give you a boost.”

  With Charlie on one side and Frannie on the other, we said goodbye to our other friends and James carried me back to where I’d parked. By the time we were at my car, my limbs were limp, and I’d almost nodded off from the rocking motion of James’ gait.

  “James, you’re rocking me like a baby back here,” I said.

  I felt the rumble of laughter roll through his back before he let me down gently. I winced when my raw foot hit the ground. Taking off my shoe and sock was probably going to be one of the least fun things I’d ever done in my life.

  “Oh, honey, is it that bad?” Frannie asked.

  “I’m scared to look,” I said.

  “You should soak your foot in green tea and baking soda. The green tea will reduce the swelling,” said James.

  All three of us just stared at him, blinking with surprise. He shrugged.

  “Thank you, I’ll try that when I get home.”

  “Isn’t he a keeper?” Frannie asked, molding herself to his side.

  “Definitely.” I turned to Charlie. “Are you coming with me? Or is your car around here?”

  “With you. Want me to drive?”

  I sighed and handed him the keys. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  The car ride was quiet. I was too tired and sore to have the talk I wanted with Charlie, so I looked out the window, our hands clasped on the console between us.

  “You feel okay? I mean, besides your gross foot,” Charlie asked.

  “I’m tired and feel like I need to take at least ten showers, but I’m actually surprised by how okay I feel. I mean, besides my gross foot,” I said, repeating his words back to him.

  He pulled into my parking spot and hobbled around to my side of the car to help me out.

  “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” I asked.

  Charlie looked down at our feet. “Well, put us together and we’ve got a set of feet that work pretty great.” He wrapped his arm around my waist. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up. Ryan was right, you’re ripe.”

  “Hey, Ryan might have been right, but he also doesn’t have a chance of getting in my pants!”

  He leaned down and asked quietly, “Are you saying I have a chance?”

  I met his eyes and smiled softly. “There’s always a chance.”

  Thirty

  Once I was clean and in the comfiest clothes I owned, I limped into the living room where Charlie was waiting for me. He sat at my piano, playing “Heart and Soul,” his brow furrowed in concentration.

  When the song ended, I clapped for him, making him jump.

  “Oh, how the tables have turned. Now I’m sneaking up on you playing,” I said.

  He straddled the bench to face me. “Your ex gave you your piano back?”

  “He did. No strings. He just thought I should have it back.”

  He nodded. “So, he has at least one good quality.”

  “One or two.”

  “I’m happy for you. Although, now that you have your own piano, I have nothing to lure you to my side of the street.”

  “It was never about the piano. Not after that first time. It was always you,” I said.

  He stood up and held my hand, leading me to the couch. There was a tub of murky water on the floor. “I made your green tea concoction.” He leaned down and ran a finger through the liquid. “Feels perfect.”

  “You made me foot tea?”

  Charlie chuckled. “I made you foot tea.”

  I sat down and eased my tired feet into the warm water and sighed. “Oh, this feels amazing. Thank you.”

  He sat down next to me and threaded his fingers between mine. “Anything, anything.” Then, he kissed my knuckles, and suddenly, I felt heavy, like I was sinking into the cushions.

  “I love you, Charlie.”

  He gave me a soft smile. “I love you too, Eliza. Are we going to be okay?”

  “Do you promise never to kick a lamppost and break your foot again?”

  He tipped his chin down. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’m cured of doing that forever. And I’ll never push you to play for other people. I get it now. I was so used to musicians who thrive in the spotlight, I thought you had to be the same. But you don’t play for other people, you play for yourself.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder. “And people I love.”

  “Yeah, and people who are lucky enough to be loved by you.” He kissed the top of my head. “If I put you on a pedestal, it’s one you built yourself. Eliza, have you stopped and looked at your life and all you’ve accomplished? You’re pretty much the bee’s knees. And you just added a marathon to all the things you’ve done that rock. I think you’re so rad. I’m your biggest fan, and I’ll always cheer you on. You gotta know that.”

  “You’re going to make me cry. I’m your biggest fan too.”

  Charlie stroked my cheek with his knuckles. “I know you hate ‘perfect,’ but fuck, you and me together is as close to perfect as it gets. Don’t you see it? What I’m missing, you have in spades. What you don’t quite have, I’ve got in abundance. We’re like our feet—apart, sure we can get around, but we’re slow and kinda lame. Together, we can do the goddamn waltz.”

  My heart swelled for him, for the love it carried. My chest felt tight, as if there wasn’t quite enough room for all of that love. I wanted to waltz with Charlie. I wanted to waltz and rumba and foxtrot. I wanted to dance with him forever.

  “I see it. I do.”

  He cupped my jaw and tipped my face up. “Eliza,” he whispered.

  “Hmmm?”

  “I haven’t kissed you in over a week.”

  I licked my top lip. “It’s shameful, really.”

  He brushed his lips over mine. “That’s better.”

  I gripped the front of his T-shirt. “Not even close.” I pulled him down and kissed him with all I had. Everything else fell away. There was no week apart, no blistered or broken feet, no exes. There was just this space in time, his lips covering my lips, his tongue sliding across mine.

  Taking my foot out of the water, I climbed onto Charlie’s lap. I couldn’t seem to get close enough, though.

  “I never want to go this long without touching you,” I said against his mouth.

  Charlie gripped the back of my neck, holding me in place. “I don’t think I can. I was crazed without you.”

  “Do you see how clean my apartment is? And how I have almost no hair left? That’s what I’ve been u
p to over the last week.”

  He ran his hands over the top of my damp hair. “I love your hair. I can see you now. My favorite face in the world.”

  I kissed him softly. “You painted me.”

  “I always paint you. You’re all I see when my brush touches the canvas.”

  I moved so I was straddling his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Oh, I love you. I’m tired and sore, but I need you inside me more than I need to breathe.” Pressing down on him, I circled my hips.

  Charlie tilted his hips up, letting me feel how hard he was already. “I’m aching for you, pretty girl.”

  I crashed into him, kissing him with abandon. We’d said all the words we needed to say. I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough. I needed his skin on mine, to feel him and know this was real.

  He pushed my shirt over my head, and I did the same with his. Then I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in. His scent always brought to mind a meadow, with a soft, mossy floor and sunbeams breaking through the tree canopy.

  But we were here, in my little apartment, in our little town, and I was sinking down on him, struggling to keep my eyes locked with his. With every inch, my eyelids fluttered, but the intensity in his gaze kept them from closing, holding me there with him.

  When he was fully inside me and our bodies were completely joined, I leaned my forehead on his and we shared each breath. Charlie’s hands traveled over my back, worshipful in their touch. We stayed like that for seconds or minutes or forever, breathing the same air, my arms clinging to him, his palms not missing even a millimeter of my skin.

  In silent agreement, we started to move. Charlie leaned his head back on the cushions so he could watch me as I raised and lowered myself on him, his shaft already throbbing inside me. Neither of us would last. It had been too long, and everything felt heightened, more intense than ever.

  Charlie cupped my breasts, and I placed my hands over his. He rolled my nipples, pulling them taut, making me impossibly wet. I rode him faster, grinding on him each time our pelvises met.