by Jessie Evans
Phoebe went to join Daisy, grabbing onto the handle jutting out from the other side of the coffin.
“What about water bottles?” Colt asked, lingering behind them. “Should I grab some from the back? They’re three dollars a pop if you buy them at the race.”
“Good thinking,” Daisy said over her shoulder. “Grab a few and we’ll meet you by the side door.”
As Colt disappeared into the back room, Daisy and Phoebe started pushing the coffin down aisle seven, where Daisy kept the seasonal displays. Now the shelves were lined with dwindling supplies of Christmas lights, tinsel, fake evergreen boughs, and dancing Elvis Santas, who began wiggling as the women passed by.
Phoebe laughed at the dolls; Daisy responded with a disapproving grunt.
“What?” Phoebe asked. “You’re awfully moody this morning.”
“I’m not moody,” Daisy said softly, casting a glance over her shoulder. “I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re my best friend, but he’s my brother.” She sighed, a fraught sound that sent a shiver of unease prickling up Phoebe’s spine. “Just know that I’m doing the best I can, okay? I don’t want to choose sides, but sometimes it’s not easy to be Switzerland.”
Phoebe stopped, turning to face Daisy over the garishly painted coffin. “You won’t have to choose sides, Dee. Colt and I are grown-ups. If things don’t work out relationship-wise between us, we’ll be adults about it. We won’t put you in the middle of anything uncomfortable.”
Because things are going to work out, I just know it, she thought but didn’t say aloud. She didn’t want to stress Daisy out any more by revealing just how deep down the love hole she’d fallen.
Daisy’s lips parted, but before she could respond, Colt was back, striding up the aisle toward them. “I got five, just in case. We can share the ones we don’t drink with the losers.”
“Perfect,” Daisy said, her competitive grin returning. “I am so ready to smoke the LLPD team. Their reign of terror ends today.”
Phoebe laughed, her worries vanishing as Colt slid behind her to dump the water bottles into the coffin and patted her hip. His affection was there, even in that swift, simple touch. She could feel how much he wanted her—and cared about her—every time they were together.
Daisy didn’t have anything to worry about. On the off chance she and Colt ran into trouble in their new relationship, they would work it out without any unnecessary drama. They both cared too much about each other—and Daisy—to do anything else.
Chapter 16
Phoebe
Outside, the air was crisp and the sky so blue it was like a giant, Caribbean ocean stretching out overhead. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but the air held a fuzzy, mineral scent that made Phoebe think they’d have snow before nightfall.
But for now the day couldn’t be more perfect for racing.
The morning sun had melted the last of the ice clinging to the sides of the road, leaving the pavement soggy, but not slick enough to be dangerous, and the humidity warmed the air just enough that it wouldn’t sting their lungs while they were running.
As they pushed their coffin down the sidewalk to where the road around the courthouse had been blocked off for the race, Phoebe lifted her face to the sun and inhaled, relishing the feeling of being exactly where she was supposed to be with the people she loved most. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so completely content and she took a silent moment to thank her sister for bringing her home.
The only thing that could make this day better was if Kelly were here to cheer her on.
But then, maybe she was.
Phoebe glanced around at the colorful banners hung above the street, the tinsel dripping from the streetlights, and the costumed people unloading brightly painted coffins from the backs of their trucks, seeing Kelly in every bright, silly, celebratory part of this day. Her sister was here with her, in her heart, and she suddenly wished they had come up with team costumes.
“Next year we need to do costumes.” She smiled at a group of older women all dressed as bumblebees with over-sized stingers, pushing a coffin painted to look like a honeypot down the street. “Kelly would be ashamed of us for missing out on a chance to get dressed up.”
Daisy reached across the coffin, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “You’re right.” She tipped her head back, glancing up at the blue sky. “Sorry, Kelly, we’ll get our act together by next year. I promise.”
“As long as you don’t make me dress up in anything like that,” Colt added beneath his breath, nodding toward two men in skin-tight superhero uniforms that left nothing to the imagination. “I don’t do tights.”
“But you’d look great in tights,” Phoebe teased.
“Ew, gross,” Daisy said with a shudder. “No, thank you, I have no desire whatsoever to see my big brother in tights. We’ll come up with something silly, but tasteful.”
“We could be pirates,” Colton said. “I’ve already got the peg leg.”
Phoebe glanced down at his running leg. “That’s much cooler than a peg leg.”
“And cost a pretty penny more,” Daisy said. “Good thing they offered a military discount.”
Phoebe looked up, wondering at the undertone of censure in her friend’s voice, but now wasn’t the time to say anything. She didn’t want to cause more friction between the Brody siblings and they were nearing the starting line, where dozens of other racers were already lined up and ready to start.
“Crap, we’re too late to get a place at the front,” Daisy said, adjusting her helmet. “I can’t believe how crowded it already is.”
“It’s all right.” Colt motioned to the far left, where two groups of loud college boys in red and blue fraternity sweatshirts were talking shit to each other over steaming mugs Phoebe suspected contained something more powerful than coffee. “Let’s get a place behind those guys. They’ll take off fast and we’ll be able to jump ahead of the group next to them.”
Phoebe nodded, casting an appraising glance at the three slim women in mice costumes and oversized black sunglasses next to them. “I would normally challenge your sexism for assuming the frat boys will be faster than the ladies, but the three blind mice don’t look like they’ve been training. Not enough calf muscle beneath that spandex. The frat should be able to take them no problem and then we’ll slide in front.”
“Challenge my sexism,” Colt said, huffing as they angled into position behind the fraternity crew.
The men’s eyes skimmed over the new arrivals, but when they saw that Daisy was wearing a dinosaur helmet and Phoebe was standing too close to Colt, they looked away. Clearly they were the types who thought women were only interesting for one reason.
Phoebe experienced a fierce rush of happiness that she wasn’t with a man like that.
“I’m the least sexist man I know,” Colt continued. “I’m the one who always made the other boys let the girls play.”
“It’s true,” Daisy said. “He was always the nice one.”
“I remember that,” Phoebe said, casting an admiring glance up at him. “It was one of the many things I always liked about you.”
He grinned. “Well, thank you, ma’am. But I’ll confess I didn’t start off thinking about equality. I had a little sister who had taught me that girls played dirty and I wanted as many dirty rotten cheaters on my team as possible.”
Daisy sniffed as she reached into the coffin for a water bottle. “When you have four older brothers, cheating is the only way a youngest sibling has a chance. I regret nothing.”
“I thought marines were supposed to be honorable,” Phoebe teased as she and Colt began to stretch out. “Isn’t playing dirty against your code?”
“Well, I wasn’t a marine back then,” he said tugging his arm across his body. “And I don’t think the honor code applies to games played with your family members. As long as there isn’t money invol
ved, anyway.”
“Don’t trust him,” Daisy warned. “He cheats at poker, too. He took a hundred of my pennies last time we played.”
Phoebe was about to insist they get in on the poker game tomorrow at the Brodys’ annual Christmas Eve party when a deep voice came over the loudspeaker. “Good morning racers!”
The greeting was met with a round of rowdy whooping and cheers from the people assembled behind the starting line.
“I see a lot of familiar faces out there and some fresh meat, too,” Hal continued. Hal Harper had been emceeing the coffin race since Phoebe was a little girl and clearly enjoyed his pride of place at a small desk at the top of the bleachers set up on the courthouse lawn. “Welcome to the twenty-first annual Lover’s Leap coffin race. Looks like we’re going to have beautiful weather for race time today. I’ve just got a few things to run over with you and we’ll get ready to go. First up, no running anyone over. If someone falls down, please go around them.”
The crowd tittered in response and Phoebe turned to squeeze Colt’s hand, nervous the way she always was before a race, even one that didn’t involve zombies chasing her across the finish line.
“Secondly, this isn’t bumper coffins, it’s a coffin race,” Hal continued. “That means there should be no contact between vehicles or racers. If we see any unnecessary roughness, you will be disqualified and banned from the beer tent for the rest of the day.”
A serious murmur met those words, confirming Phoebe’s suspicion that a lot of the racers had already been partaking and intended to continue hitting the microbrewery vendors after the race was through.
“Lastly, remember to have fun. That’s what we’re here for and the whole point of our festival. As the Frozen Dead Dude reminds us every year, life is short so play hard, play often, and always drink good beer.” Hal paused for a round of applause to die down before adding, “We’ll get started in about five minutes. Racers, get your coffins loaded!”
Phoebe turned back to Colt and Daisy, bouncing on her toes. “Okay, we ready for this?”
“I was born ready.” Daisy wrapped her fingers around the handlebar on her side of the coffin. “We’ll hold the coffin steady while you climb in Colt.”
Colt reached in, tucking the water bottles rolling around in the bottom of the coffin off to one side before climbing in, wincing as the coffin creaked beneath his weight. “Are we sure I’m not going to break this?”
“Dylan has at least fifty pounds on you and he didn’t break the coffin last year,” Daisy said. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
Phoebe chuckled before leaning in, pressing an impulsive kiss to his cheek.
He turned to her with a grin. “What’s that for?”
“Just because,” she said, helping Daisy push the coffin closer to the starting line. “You look cute all wadded up in there.”
“Oh man, you’re making the girls push you first?” One of the frat boys laughed good-naturedly as the Grim Peeper pulled up behind his crew. “You’re going to get lapped before you make it around the first turn, man.”
“Dude, he’s got a thing,” one of his brothers added in a whisper everyone in a ten-foot radius could here, casting a pointed glance at Colt’s prosthetic.
“These ladies are my secret weapon,” Colt said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at Phoebe. “Especially this one. Don’t let the pigtails fool you. She’s fierce.”
Phoebe forced a smile for the other men but was grateful when they turned back around to focus on their own team. She didn’t know which bothered her more—the insinuation that she and Daisy were automatically going to be slow because they were female or the pitying looks in the frat boys’ eyes when they looked at Colt. Colt was probably ten times faster than either of them and hardly deserving of anyone’s pity.
Empathy and appreciation for the sacrifice he’d made, yes. Pity, hell no.
Thankfully, before Phoebe could dwell on annoying college boys for too long, the mayor climbed up onto the platform set up near the bleachers and lifted the Frozen Dead Dude flag above her head. She turned, giving Hal a thumbs-up.
“Okay, racers, when the flag drops, get ready to roll,” Hal said. “Remember, you must make three circuits of the track and each member of your team must ride around in the coffin for one complete lap. No cheating. You will be watched and cheaters disqualified and pelted with snowballs. Now get ready, on your mark, get set…”
The flag dropped and Hal’s “Go!” was drowned out by the sound of fifty coffins launching into motion.
Daisy shouted a battle cry from the other side of Colt as they took off hard, the rattle of wheels and the slap of feet on the pavement rising all around them. Phoebe dug in and pushed, leaning so hard on her handle that she was running with her body at a forty-five-degree angle, her toes digging into the asphalt as she and Daisy shot forward.
She kept her eyes on the road ahead of them, not daring to shift her focus until they had pulled past the three blind mice and swerved around the first group of red-shirted frat boys. Only when she could hear the majority of the racers trundling along behind them, did she turn her head, taking in the competition.
The frat boys in the blue shirts were out in front of them, along with the LLPD’s championship team, a male and female team from the cross-country club, and some burly out-of-towners who looked like they might do some lumberjacking in their spare time. But the others weren’t that far ahead and the lumberjacks were already slowing after a gung-ho start. She and Daisy were holding their own, Daisy making up for her lack of training with sheer, stubborn Brody determination.
They crossed the starting line the first time only seconds behind the other leading teams and Colt vaulted out of the coffin. Before Phoebe could make a move, Colt had swung her up in his arms, deposited her in his place, and was urging Daisy on as they pulled out for a second lap.
Phoebe clung to the sides of the rattling wooden crate, concentrating on catching her breath as Colt and Daisy careened down the road, taking her up to a much faster cruising speed than she and Daisy had managed the first time around. By the time they rounded the first corner—on two wheels, making Phoebe squeal and squeeze her eyes shut until she felt the coffin steady beneath her—they were even with the blue-shirted frat boys and hot on the heels of the LLPD and cross-country teams.
During the next straight stretch, Colt and Daisy poured on the speed, pulling ahead of the frat boys and passing the cross-country team on their right. By the time they reached the starting line again, they were grinding to a stop right beside the LLPD. But the policemen already had their third man in position and were poised to take off.
“Arms, Phoebes,” Colt barked. Phoebe held out her arms and Colt worked his magic again—swooping her out of the coffin before plucking Daisy up and dropping her in.
“Go, go, go!” Daisy shouted, panting like she was about to pass out as Colt and Phoebe launched into motion.
Phoebe dug her toes in hard but pushing Daisy was so much easier than pushing Colt. She and Colt sprinted down the road toward the first turn, moving so fast that Daisy bounced up and down in the coffin as she breathlessly shouted encouragement to her teammates and abuse to the police officers barely three feet ahead.
“Gotta slow on the turn,” Colt panted. “Or she’ll tip over.”
“Got it,” Phoebe said, pulling back as they neared the turn and holding tight to her handlebar as it tried to jerk up into the air.
This was it. They couldn’t take a turn any faster. That meant they had to pull ahead of the LLPD team on the next straight stretch or they didn’t have a chance.
“Go, go, go!” Daisy cheered as they hit the straight stretch. “Give it everything you’ve got!”
Phoebe and Colt poured it on, moving so fast Phoebe couldn’t think of anything but sucking in her next breath. Her knees trembled and her legs started to feel loose in her hip joints, but still she pushed harder, the sight of swiftly moving legs sliding past in her peripheral vision enough to ke
ep her going. They reached the turn a good six feet ahead of the LLPD team and Phoebe dug her heels in, skidding along on the backs of her shoes, keeping the coffin from tipping over on her side as Colt kept them steady around the turn.
As soon as the left wheels hit the ground again, they were off, straining toward the finish line, crossing over in first place with three seconds to spare.
“Yes!” Phoebe lifted one fist into the air as she hauled on the handlebar with the other, helping Colt pull Daisy to a stop. “Victory!” she gasped. “Is. Ours!”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” A panting Colt swept her up into his arms, twirling her around with a growl as he hugged her hard enough to make her spine crack. “You’re amazing.”
Phoebe laughed, so happy and high on victory that she didn’t think to be self-conscious when Colt kissed her on the lips. It was a quick kiss—they were both breathing too hard for anything else—and a second later, Colt had Daisy swept up in an equally fierce hug.
But still. He’d kissed her. In front of half the town.
That meant something. It meant that “seeing where things go” had become “public displays of affection in front of their friends and family.”
So maybe, just maybe, by the time Colt was cleared to return to duty, he would have decided there was something in Lover’s Leap worth staying for. Look how far they’d come in just a few days. At this rate, by February they’d be engaged.
The thought made Phoebe’s face flush even hotter as Colt drew her under one arm and Daisy under another, posing for a picture as Hal read their names over the loudspeaker, congratulating them on breaking the LLPD’s five-year winning streak.
Engaged to Colt. It was the stuff of her girlhood fantasies, but it was quickly starting to feel like an inevitable eventuality. That’s what you did when you fell in love like this. You promised to spend your life together and did your damnedest to live happily ever after.
