Pepped Up & Wilder (Pepper Jones Book 6)

by Ali Dean

  We meet up at the running house one night to decide on a team name. We’re all on board that we don’t want to pick a team name that’s tied to a main sponsor, like Newbound. That way we have more independence in choosing sponsors. I propose the Brockton Babes, but the guys veto that immediately. Sienna tells them they can be the Brockton Bros if they want something more manly, but we end up deciding the same name for both genders is best. Lexi pushes for Brockton Badasses, but Ryan reminds us a lot of race directors and sponsors will give us a hard time with that one. We finally decide on the Brockton Beasts. There is no dispute that the team will remain Brockton-based, and while we consider throwing the Harding name in there somehow, Ryan and Mark don’t want that. Even in choosing the team name it’s a democratic effort, and I like the precedent it sets for the dynamic going forward.

  That burn in my belly is back, the one people call competitive drive. I think it was just waiting to be lit, and it took a number of puzzle pieces refitting themselves back together to get it going again. Indigo Adams, who goes by Indy, is the youngest on the team – she’s only a year out of college. Kendra Smith is my age – we used to race each other in high school, and she just qualified for the trials at the half at Chicago. She’d been training in Oregon, where she went to college, but after breaking up with her boyfriend out there, she was hoping to come back to Colorado. Maisy White is the oldest in the group, and the only one who’s run a marathon before. She was a senior at UC when Sienna was a freshman.

  All of the new runners are just as competitive and driven as the rest of us, but unlike the Newbound team, there aren’t any big egos in the group. When we recruited runners, we looked for women one of us knew personally or at least had reputations for being drama-free and relatively humble.

  We’re doing a short training block for a tune-up half marathon in early October, and then we’ll start the intense training for the trials, which will be held in Houston in February. Lexi and Sienna haven’t yet qualified for the trials, and they’re hoping to hit their times in October. Of course, technically we’ll be competing against one another for the three spots on the Olympic team, but training together should make all of us better, give us all a better shot than if we were training alone. At the end of the day, making the Olympic team is a long shot for any one of us. It all comes down to one race, one day, and anything can happen in a marathon.

  My new routine is waking up with Jace, then breakfast with Gran and the crew before Jace heads off to practice and I go to meet the girls for a run. Then I usually take a quick break for more food before going to one of the fitness centers in town for strength training and stretches. Sometimes I have a second afternoon run, but only a couple times a week. Once a week I get a massage to keep the muscles from getting too tight. Jace usually returns mid-afternoon and we hang out, sometimes meet friends for dinner or go out to a restaurant. We’re still seeing Nancy every other week too. At night, Jace watches football or studies football on his computer while I do my emails and sponsorship stuff and we go to bed early. Some might find our simple life boring. There’s no glamour, no fast cars, and we haven’t had a big night out since Red Hot. The black-tie fundraisers for the players peter off once the season starts, and we don’t seek out opportunities to be in the spotlight.

  It’s exactly the life I want. Some days are hard. Some days I think about what I would be doing right now if I was still pregnant. Some days I go back to feeling guilty for loving to run, wonder if I deserve the happiness it brings me, the hope and excitement I feel about a hard workout, the next race, chasing that win. Sometimes, I have to work hard just to get out of bed and face the day and let it bring me joy.

  But Jace is doing it by my side, and that makes it easier.

  “What do you think?” Jace asks.

  We’re standing on a balcony to a master bedroom. The house is half a mile up the road from Wes and Zoe, and the view is jaw-dropping.

  “It’s too big,” I say on a sigh. “I know the idea is to grow into it someday. I know that it will be great to have space to host runners training, friends visiting, whatever, but…” I lean into his side. “It’s not us.”

  Jace puts his hand around my waist and pulls me close. “I could dig this view every morning, but we can hit up Wes and Zoe for a view. And we walk up the trail to a view like this almost every afternoon anyway. The house doesn’t feel like a home, does it?”

  “No. I know it’s staged right now or whatever and we’ll make it more personal if it’s ours, but it’s too… nice? It’s not even ostentatious or showy really, it’s just so far from the cozy homes we grew up in, that’s not how I see us, or who I want us to be.”

  “Or how I see our kids growing up,” Jace adds.

  We’ve talked about kids a little more openly. I want to try again. Maybe as soon as after the trials if I don’t make the Olympics.

  “This kind of house makes sense for Zoe and Wes. I’m not saying it’s wrong for everyone. Zoe likes shiny things, not in a bad way, but she’s loving the pool, throwing parties, stuff like that. And Wes grew up in a place like this.”

  “Let’s build our own place. We can make it our own. Just the way we want it.”

  “Plus, that lot is on Pleasant Way. That has to mean it’s got good vibes.”

  Jace’s chest vibrates in laughter. “Pleasant Way,” he says with a shake of his head. “Now if we just paint the house pink I’ll complete my image as the NFL’s wholesome family man.”

  “Nah, you’ve got a tattoo now. You’re still a badass, babe, don’t worry.”

  “As long as my wife still thinks I’m a badass,” he says, nuzzling my neck.

  “I’d be down with more tattoos,” I admit.

  “I’ll get one for each baby we make,” he promises with a whisper in my ear.

  A throat clears behind us. “Mr. and Mrs. Wilder?” Jane, our realtor, asks.

  Oh, right, we’re touring a house with our realtor. I’d nearly forgotten.

  “We’re going to make an offer on the Pleasant Way lot,” Jace informs her. I love his decisiveness.

  She looks a little disappointed. I’m sure the commission on this one would have made her day. Or year. But she doesn’t push. Jace can be so sweet to me I often forget how intimidating other people find him.

  As we go back downstairs and through the house, we talk about plans for razing the place falling apart on Pleasant Way and building a new house. I think about how excited Gran and Lulu will be to help with the project. “I’m not really into pink, but how do you feel about a polka-dotted house?” I ask Jace. “I mean, if Gran’s going to be involved, we’ll have to make some concessions.”

  “We can paint one interior room however she wants. And maybe a door. But I get veto power over any exterior painting decisions.”

  That’s fair. But purple is my favorite color and I’d really dig coming home to a purple house. Maybe I can at least talk him into painting the front door purple. Oh, this is going to be fun.

  “Hey, I know it’s last minute. But I want to come to your first game with the Stallions this weekend. Should I talk to Denise about travel arrangements?” Denise is Jace’s new PA. Jace’s PA before was Drake’s assistant, and I avoided talking to both of them. Denise, on the other hand, is so sweet I find myself looking for chances to call her about random things.

  “You sure? I’d love that, Pep, but you’ve got that half next month and I know how important it is to rest during this training block.”

  I give Jace a look that says, I love you but stop it. Yes, training and resting appropriately is my job but it’s only a piece of my life; Jace is a bigger piece. I know that he’s not meant to play in this game, and may not even play in games all season, but I also know how much it means to me when I have him nearby, supporting me, no matter how big or small each step is. I want to give that back to him. And I also know he’s on his way to leading this team. I want everyone to see us as a united front, even if I do have my own athletic goals that will keep me a
way sometimes.

  “I’d love that, but I can arrange everything with Denise,” he relents, kissing the tip of my nose.

  “No way. Denise is my bud. I’ll call her.”

  Man, it’s nice to know good people are on our teams, finally.

  We ask Jane to drop us at Wes and Zoe’s place. It’s time to finish the puzzle we started months ago, still sitting half complete on their dining room table.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Pepper

  I don’t know that there’s ever been as much attention on me for a race as there is for this one. It’s a big half marathon, a stacked international race with lots of Olympic team contenders trying to set the tone for the trials, make their place known. With all the media attention throughout the summer about Newbound, Monica, Ray, there was bound to be increased interest in my performance. But add in the miscarriage, me changing teams and coaches even before the scandal broke, and my so-called “comeback” after a couple months completely off from training, and I’ve unintentionally gained a spotlight position on the start line.

  It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Not anymore. It’s not only that I’ve gotten used to being in the spotlight as Jace Wilder’s wife both on and off the starting line, but too much has happened to allow me to dwell on the opinions of others. There will be people who support me, and there will always be those who criticize, no matter what happens in this race today. I’ve experienced a pain and loss so deep that the haters can’t touch it. And I’ve come out of it. So today, I’ll let myself go for it, and see what happens.

  All five of my training partners are here today. For Sienna and Lexi, they are racing to hit the qualifying time. The half marathon qualifying time is actually a much more competitive time than the full marathon qualifying time. For a while, there was some debate about whether runners should even be able to qualify for the full by running a half. But cutting out that chance would weed out some fast runners with potential who just didn’t have an opportunity to race a full for injury reasons or, in my case, because I’m new to longer distances and haven’t built up to the full distance yet.

  For me, Indy, Kendra, and Maisy, today is a check-in on our training. We did a short taper and we’re here to get one more solid race experience under our belts, test where we’re at and how training is going, before putting our heads down for the hardest training session of our lives leading up to the trials.

  When the gun goes off, the six of us stick together in the back of the lead pack. The temperature is perfect brisk fall weather, but there’s a solid headwind. Our training group sticks together in the back of a large lead pack. We spend the first few miles letting others break the wind, but no one wants to take the lead today with a strong headwind, and for that reason, the pace is too slow.

  I glance at Indy, who seems to know what I’m thinking. We need to pick it up if we want Sienna and Lexi to get those qualifying times. We move around the group, immediately having to dig deeper in order to go against the wind.

  Though we’ve done training runs at altitude at 5:30 pace, it doesn’t feel like that smooth, solid pace we’ve been drilling into our systems, that I churned out with ease while pregnant. Nope. Even with the advantage of being at sea level, the headwind forces us to work for the steady pace. I almost never look behind me during a race, but my mindset for today has changed. I’m not racing for myself. Otherwise I’d sit in the back of the pack, leading as little as possible to conserve energy until the end. Today, I’m pacing for my teammates. I’ve already got my qualifying time. Some might think I’ve still got something to prove, after all that went down professionally and personally this summer. But, well, I don’t give a shit.

  I glance behind me and find Kendra and Maisy right on our heels, providing even more protection from the wind for Lexi and Sienna. Lexi flashes me a bright smile, telling me she’s grateful for the move we’ve made. The pack has tagged on to our group, taking advantage of the hard work Indy and I are putting in, but I get it. They’re racing smart. But they’re racing for themselves. It’s been years since I’ve had a chance to fight for something other than myself at a race. I missed being part of a real team. We might have our own agents, our own headaches with sponsors and making this work as a career, but we train hard together and we all want each other to succeed.

  Jace is meant to play for the Stallions for the first time in a home game tomorrow and though I know, from my pal Denise, that he tried to figure out a way to fly in and out for this race, it was too risky. He couldn’t take the chance of a flight being canceled on the way back, and he can’t miss a practice or team meetings before game day. I know he’s thinking of me though, and it’s not so lonely. I guess I didn’t even realize how lonely I’d been racing all over the country until now, when I’ve finally got not only one girl at my side, on my team, but four more right behind me.

  Kendra and Maisy move around us at mile seven, taking over the pace. I’m grateful for the break, but I’m still feeling strong. When Kendra starts to slow at mile nine, dropping back, I take over again next to Maisy. Indy is right there with me, and with our other three teammates behind us, we charge forward. I don’t know what’s happening with the rest of the pack at this point, but I’m starting to pick up the pace. My teammates go with me, so I keep pushing. We’ve been holding steady right at the pace for the qualifying time, but as the crowds pick up and we near the final couple of miles, it’s time to see what’s left in our legs.

  I can hear sharp breathing behind me, and I know that everyone is hurting. But we’ve now dug deep dozens of times together on the roads in Brockton, and when I crank it up another notch with a mile to go, I’m not alone. At the end of races, when everything burns, your legs are rubber, your lungs are bursting, it’s easy to want to back off and tell yourself there’s nothing left to give, to just hold on and get through the end without digging any deeper. But when the same girls who train on the same roads, do the same workouts, are pushing right there beside you, it’s easier to shut off the doubts and simply go with them. Knowing this, I don’t relent on the pace even as I sense my teammates struggling around me.

  When we hit mile marker twelve, my own body starts to give out from breaking the wind for nearly the entire race. Lexi overtakes me first, and my heart soars for her. She’s going to hit the qualifying mark. A moment later, others who have been taking advantage of our pacing start to pass. International runners mostly, from what I can see, who are here for the prize money, not the Olympic Trials mark.

  With half a mile to go, I’m hoping Sienna is still in the mix. I haven’t seen my other teammates, and I’m guessing Kendra, Maisy and Indy are toast from leading just like I am. When I sense someone at my shoulder I glance over to find Sienna there, face red, arms pumping. I match her stride, and together we bring it home. I can’t exactly call it a sprint to the finish, we’re too spent to pick up our turnover much, but we don’t ease up. And it’s a good thirty seconds under the qualifying time.

  All six of us are going to be in Houston for the trials. My gut clenches for a moment, recalling the last time I went through a finish line, when I didn’t know I was carrying Baby Wilder. But even with the sadness sitting on my heart, I’m happy. Lexi and Sienna throw their arms around me, and I can hardly wait for the next three months of brutal training with these women.

  I’m floating on that post-race high when I show up for Jace’s game the next day. It’s my third time watching a Stallions home game this season, but it will be the first time Jace is on the field. Zoe and Wes picked me up from the airport and we drove straight to the stadium. The three of us make our way up to one of the boxes reserved for players’ friends and family. We had the option of sitting in regular seats, but I don’t want to deal with the attention we’re bound to draw from others in the stands, not to mention reporters. I’d tried that at one of the games and even without Jace playing, it was a lot.

  As soon as I see who is in the box, I wish we’d taken the other seats. I’m expecting S
tephanie Bremer. The past few times we’ve seen each other since Frankie’s wedding we simply keep our distance. I’m not going to apologize for Gran’s behavior, and it’s not like she’s about to apologize for telling me I caused the miscarriage by running too much.

  “Why the hell is Madeline Brescoll here with Bremer’s wife?” Wes doesn’t even try to keep his question quiet. A few heads swing our way, then dart over to Madeline and Stephanie, where Wes’s glare is directed.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Zoe mutters.

  There’s only one explanation for this. “Drake Vogel.”

  Zoe and Wes turn to me. “Huh? Jace’s old agent is here?” Wes turns to look around the stands.

  “No. Drake knows Madeline from New York. He also knows she and Jace have a history.”

  Wes starts to nod slowly as he processes what I’m saying. “He got Bremer’s wife to invite Madeline,” Wes says.

  Zoe tugs her bottom lip. “You know, Madeline goes back and forth between New York and Denver. She doesn’t spend much time in Brockton, too small-town now for her, but it makes sense Drake would set them up. Two evil socialites.”

  I snicker, remembering Zoe’s nickname for Madeline back in high school. “Mad-evil.”

  Zoe raises one eyebrow. “And Sour-efanie.”

  Leah’s voice pipes in from beside me, “Sinfullnie has a nice ring to it too.”