“How long have you known? That you would be redeployed?”
“A few days.”
Hannah frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you act like nothing was wrong?”
“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” he said, his tone starting to sound defensive. He paused, watching her face. “This is my job, Hannah. It’s my duty. This is what you have to deal with when you get involved with someone in the military.”
Hannah nodded absently. She knew he was right, but something nagged at her. Something seemed off about it, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.
Cain arched an eyebrow, giving her a look. “Come on, Hannah. You’re not going to get all clingy on me, are you?”
Hannah froze, suddenly feeling like Cain had just slapped her. Then, anger flooded her. She leapt off the bed and began searching for her clothing.
“Hannah—”
“Fuck you.”
Hannah snatched up her clothing and went out to Cain’s living room to get dressed.
Cain came after her, still completely naked. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going home, Cain,” she said, pulling on her undies, then her jeans. “I wouldn’t want to be clingy, after all.”
“I’m sorry I said that…”
Hannah stopped, her bra and top still in her hand. “I thought you were out of the military, or at least done with active duty. And I thought that because you insinuated that. So don’t blame me for being surprised that you drop on me that you’re leaving in a week and act like it’s nothing.” She put on her bra. “And so what if I’m concerned? Is it wrong for me to be worried that you might get hurt? Is it so terrible that I might miss you a little, that I won’t get to see you for months, or ever again if you get transferred?” She shook her head. “Maybe it is terrible. Because it sounds like you won’t miss me a bit. Which means that maybe I am the clingy one, aren’t I?” She wrestled with her top, trying to get the inside-out sleeves back where they were supposed to be.
Cain came over and grabbed the top, taking it from her. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her with serious eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“Didn’t you?” She grabbed for her shirt, yanking on it until Cain let go.
And she grabbed her purse and left.
Hannah sat in her favorite chair, sipping her water as the cool mountain air drifted in from her open window. It smelled like wood-burning fire. It was that time of year, when people lit fires in their fireplaces, or stoked up their wood-burning stoves for heat. The smell usually made her happy. But not tonight.
Cain was being redeployed. His respite from active duty had only been temporary. It was his job, his duty. It had nothing to do with her, and she knew that.
Yet, there was something about the way Cain told her that bothered her. Why hadn’t he warned her that this would happen? Why wait until he was practically on his way out the door before telling her? Was she crazy for being disappointed?
She couldn’t figure out what bothered her so much. Was it that he was leaving and that they wouldn’t get to do all the things they’d talked about… like the backpacking and skiing? Then again, had they talked about those things? Or had they just mentioned them casually and she confabulated plans in her own mind, plans that Cain had never agreed to? Or was the issue that Cain was so blasé about his leaving, as if being deprived of those activities, or her company, wasn’t that big of a deal to him? Maybe that was it. Maybe their relationship, or whatever it was, was merely a way to fill time, a way for Cain to occupy himself until he returned to do his calling.
It made sense. He’d made it clear from the get-go that he couldn’t be someone’s boyfriend. They’d never talked about the future. They’d never called each other girlfriend and boyfriend or put any kind of label on what they had. They didn’t spend every night together or adhere to any kind of schedule, given their work schedules and their need for solitary time. They’d been content to just be together with no framework, and she’d been totally okay with that.
So why was she so bothered by Cain leaving, and that he’d acted like it was nothing? Suddenly, she knew why.
She’d let herself get too attached.
She’d done to Cain what other men had done to her, develop expectations and then plans, under the assumption that the other person was on the same page. She’d gotten…
Clingy.
Maybe not clingy clingy, but clingy.
Perhaps this redeployment was a good thing. A reminder that Cain didn’t belong to her. No man could belong to her, because she never wanted to belong to any man. She’d never wanted her freedom hampered in that way, to feel obligated to someone, to compromise who she was. With Cain, she’d never had to face those problems, but maybe, on some level, Cain had to face them with her, especially after she showed such surprise at his being redeployed.
She’d broken their no-muss-no-fuss rule, the one they’d more or less agreed upon from the start.
It had to be that way. It was better for both of them to separate rather than develop any sense of dependence. After all, she couldn’t allow herself to become what she feared most. She couldn’t allow herself to become her mother. She couldn’t allow herself to be anything like the sweet, beautiful woman who was overly attached to Hannah’s father, accepting whatever scraps of love he bestowed upon her. The woman who was unable to leave when her husband proved himself incapable of honoring their commitment, who fucked a handful of women who were too young for him and chalked it up to “men are weak.” The woman who hoped he would eventually come around, but who knew deep down that he wouldn’t, and that it was easier to stay in that house and that marriage rather than face the unknowns of change.
Getting close to someone was good, but getting too close—letting them so close that they could wound you—that was bad.
And Hannah would not play that game.
The next day, Hannah sat curled up in her chair, reading. It was cold and drizzly out, and the sky was dark with thick clouds. Her windows were shut and her fireplace on. When her phone rang, she checked it. Cain.
“Hey,” she said.
“How are you?” His voice was somber.
“I’m okay.”
Cain heaved a sigh. “Listen. I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know I would be redeployed so soon, and for that long. Especially after everything that happened. I should’ve told you sooner but… I didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
A moment of silence. “For a lot of reasons. Because I’m not fucking happy about going. And because… I’ll miss you.”
Hannah felt her steely resolve begin to melt away. “What if you get hurt?”
“I won’t. I’m not going to any war zones.”
“What if… what if it takes a toll on you again, emotionally?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Hannah nodded, so many things running through her mind.
“What are you thinking?” he said.
“That we won’t get to backpack together, or go skiing this winter.”
“You can still do those things. You don’t need me.”
Hannah closed her eyes for a minute, her steely resolve snapping right back into place again. “You’re right. I can.”
“Look. I’m sorry for what I said, okay? For calling you clingy—”
“Don’t worry about it. Maybe I was being clingy.”
“You weren’t, Hannah. You never have been. You’re the opposite of clingy. I just… getting called back to duty was an unpleasant surprise and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t know how to deal with you. You’re the first relationship I’ve had since…” He trailed off.
“You don’t have to explain, Cain. I get it. We’ve had a nice time hanging out together. And you stated your limitations from the very start. You have to do your duty and that’s that. You don’t owe me anything.”
More silence. Finally, Cain said, “Do you want to get together
before I leave?”
“Of course. Just let me know when a good time is.”
“Okay…” Cain said, sounding unsure of himself, as if he didn’t quite believe her. “I’m working three long shifts in a row this week. How about Friday night?”
“I can do Friday.”
The next day, Hannah went running after work. She ran through the misty forest, a gentle fog lingering among the tall trees as she passed through an aspen grove, a brilliant gold contrasted against a stark gray sky.
And she thought about Cain, knowing she would see him once more on Friday night before he left town. After that, who knew? Maybe in three months, maybe in six months, maybe never again if they stationed him somewhere else for a while.
Yes, she would miss him. But what was there to do? He was military. He was leaving. It was part of the job. He’d mentioned nothing about staying in contact, keeping her posted during his deployment, or anything like that. She could tell he just needed to leave, without her making it difficult for him, without her expecting anything. So that’s what she would do.
Hannah wondered if they would return to the “don’t ask, don’t tell” rule regarding their personal lives, the one they had early on, where they could date other people but avoid letting on that they were doing so. But as quickly as the thought came into her head, she realized she already knew the answer. Cain would be overseas, and she in Colorado, and both would do what they wanted. Maybe he would contact her, maybe he wouldn’t… but deep down she knew he wouldn’t. If he’d wanted to maintain their relationship while he was gone, he would have made some piggish remark about her fucking other guys or joked about men hitting on Grace. He would have told her the truth sooner, and planned for it.
But he’d done none of that.
Friday night, Hannah went to Cain’s. They cooked and sat out on his deck on a beautiful, warm, early October day. They spent time in bed together.
Cain would glance at her now and again, as if waiting for her to lament how much she would miss him, or for her to eagerly request they stay in touch, or for some other emotional gesture to alleviate the tension between them. But she didn’t.
And neither did he.
When morning came, Hannah hugged Cain and kissed his cheek. Cain smiled a little, his brown eyes staring into hers, again completely unreadable.
“Be safe,” she said.
Cain leaned down and gave her a brief kiss. Then he got into his truck and drove away.
Chapter Seventeen
Hannah unzipped her fleece and took it off. The temperature had warmed up as she sat behind the table filled with large jugs of water, Gatorade, and other aid for the runners.
She was volunteering at the Sagebrush 50-miler. The frontrunners had already whizzed past her little aid station, and now she and Jenny, one of the race organizers, would wait until the bulk of the racers started coming through, looking to replenish themselves.
“Thanks again for volunteering,” Jenny said. “It’s not always easy to get volunteers, especially those who know something about ultrarunning.”
“My pleasure,” Hannah said. “I’m just easing back into running after an injury, and this seemed like a good way to get involved in the community.”
“What kind of injury?”
“Stress fracture in my foot.”
“What were you training for?”
“The High Peaks 100. My first hundred. I made it about eighty miles before I had to drop out.”
Jenny grimaced. “Shit. You made it that far your first time doing High Peaks? That’s not bad.”
Hannah smiled. “I’m starting to see that now. I didn’t at the time, though. I cried like a little girl, like the world had ended.”
Jenny laughed. “First-timers. They always take themselves so seriously. No offense.”
“None taken. It’s totally true. It took a good schooling from a friend of mine to see the light, that I’d overtrained and that I’d forgotten the entire reason I run in the first place.”
Jenny nodded. “I get it. Organizing these races is my full-time job, and it’s so inspiring to watch these people push themselves beyond the limits they thought they had. For some, the challenge is physical. But for many others, it’s emotional. It’s personal. And when I see runners overtraining or bragging about their split times or trying to pass others just to feel like they’re better, I’m like, you all are missing the point.”
Hannah nodded. “That was me, the overtraining part anyway. But I’m finally starting to get it.”
“Are you going to attempt High Peaks again next year?”
Hannah sighed. “That was the plan. But I haven’t committed yet. I’m trying to focus on my recovery and doing things right. I want to make sure I’m ready for that. But deep down, yeah, I want to do it again.”
“You can start training in December, and then see how you feel. The spots won’t fill up until February or so. If it feels right, sign up.”
Before Hannah could respond, she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. A runner approaching, covered in sweat but looking solid and bright-eyed. Hannah stood up, immediately seeing his empty hand-held bottle. “Water or Gatorade?” she said.
“Water, please.”
Hannah quickly filled his bottle for him and handed it back. “You’re looking good. Keep it up.”
“Thanks,” he said with a wink, and took off.
Soon, she and Jenny were busy keeping the bottles filled with a stream of runners passing through. Later in the day, they waited out the stragglers who wouldn’t make the time cutoff. Most were walking by that time, either injured or just out of steam. Some looked ill, until their death march led them to the medical tent, where someone recorded their DNF and ensured they got transport to their vehicles or waiting friends.
At the end of the day, Jenny told her she’d done enough, but Hannah refused to leave and instead helped Jenny empty what remained of the water jugs and load them into her van, along with the table and the other equipment.
When they were all packed up, Jenny held out her hand. “Thank you, Hannah.”
Hannah shook it. “My pleasure. Keep me on your email list. I’m happy to help out again.”
“This is it for the season, unless you want to come out to California.” She grinned. “But the fun starts again in February… in Utah. And if you decide to do High Peaks, I’ll see you there.”
“Oh, you’re working High Peaks too?”
She scoffed. “Are you kidding? High Peaks gets me front row seats to the best show in the world. I never miss it.”
Hannah smiled. “Nice. Well, tell you what. If I don’t race, I’ll volunteer.”
“Perfect. I’ll hook you up with a good spot. Top of Spruce Pass, maybe…”
“Ooh,” Hannah said, recalling that tiny aid station at over 12,000 feet. “I’ll take that one.”
Hannah said her goodbyes and began her journey back home.
What a great day. She’d wondered how she would feel, watching all those people do what she couldn’t yet do, what she’d been barred from doing for months. But she felt no envy or regret. Well, maybe a little envy. But it was the good kind of envy. She felt inspired by watching them race, taking care of them, and giving them a few words of encouragement. They were small tokens, but she knew they could help a runner so much, especially when you reached the late stages of the race and could hardly keep your head up, when even a single word of encouragement or tiny gesture was the only thing keeping you going. She remembered what that felt like.
She thought about Cain again. That day, he’d drifted in and out of her thoughts more times than she could count. How could he not? Everything about the race reminded her of him. She’d done a good job putting him out of her mind in the couple of weeks since he’d left, but doing so had proven impossible in that setting.
She hadn’t heard from him. She hadn’t expected to. Looking back, she’d known from the moment he said he was leaving that their relationship, or whatever it was,
would come to an end. Cain wasn’t a pen pal kind of guy. He would need to readjust to Army life, and face any lingering pain about what happened in the past. His time with her was a respite from his real life, and it had to end sometime.
Strangely enough, she was okay with not hearing from him. Getting back to doing her thing, on her own, without the complications of men… that felt normal to her.
A part of her missed him. Her phone seemed too quiet, her house a little too empty, her life a little lonely. But she’d gotten along perfectly fine before Cain showed up in her life, and she would do the same again. Now, she would run, volunteer at races, curl up in her chair and read, and, eventually, if it felt right, become immersed in training for High Peaks again.
She hoped Cain was doing okay. He was tough and he would cope, of course. But he was stuck in some desert or on some Army base God knows where, away from what mattered most to him. He was Grizzly Adams, after all. Grizzly Adams belonged in the mountains.
But then she reminded herself that Cain chose his service, and that he probably did so for reasons she could never understand.
When Hannah got home, she jumped in the shower. Afterward, she thought about pouring a bourbon, but decided to leave the bottle in the cabinet where it belonged. Instead, she poured herself some water and sunk into her chair to read.
Hannah felt the vibration of her phone as she ran up a steep hill, dodging a few rocks and trying to catch her breath. She ignored it, knowing it was probably yet another fraudulent company hoping to nab her credit card information. Tonight was her longest run yet at ten miles, and everything felt good. Her foot was happy, her body was happy, and she was happy. She wore no heart rate monitor, she focused only on mileage rather than time or pace, and wore her GPS watch only for safety reasons.
It was beautiful out. The aspens still had a few gold leaves on them, although most had fallen to the ground, offering a soft landing on the trails as she ran. She loved running in the fall, with its bright leaves and cool temperatures and no surprise thundershowers to soak her through.
Going The Distance (Four Corners Book 3) Page 12
