Dr. Conroy’s tongue poked into her cheek as she tried to hide her smile. “I’m doing this for Pepper Jack. Not for you, Kiernan. He can stay. Get him a leash though. A rope is not a leash.”
“He ate his leash on the way here.” I grinned. “You know my name, don’t you think I should call you something other than Dr. Conroy?”
“No, I don’t. Dr. Conroy is just fine.”
“Thank you, Dr. Conroy.”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t, I swear, but I will get you to tell me your first name.” I winked and jogged with Pepper Jack to one of the lanes she had set up, before she changed her mind.
4 Caroline
“Why did we think this was a good idea?” Daphne asked. We were both panting and gasping for air. My legs were shaking, and I was almost positive my muscles had been doused in gasoline then lit on fire. There was no other explanation for the burning my muscles were going through. This couldn’t be a normal reaction. If it was, why the hell did people run? For fun?
I skidded to a stop and leaned over, putting my hands on my knees. Daphne stopped next to me and rested her head against my back.
“We were drunk. That’s why we thought it was a good idea,” I muttered and wiped the sweat from my forehead. It’d been half a mile, and I’d already drunk my entire water bottle. I lifted my head and looked forward on the path. The running group we’d joined were so far ahead of us they were specks on the horizon.
On New Year’s Eve, Daphne and I had been sitting on my couch watching movies, drinking wine, and licking spoons coated in cake batter. After a bottle or two of the wine, we’d started talking about how we wanted the next year to be the best of our lives. It’d be the year our career goals were actualized, our love lives wouldn’t be so stale, and we’d be more active. We wrote down our plan and were ready to get started the next morning. Sure, the plan was on a paper towel, but it was still a plan. And I loved plans. I didn’t have a ton of room in my life for more than what I already had, but Daphne and I wanted to try.
Only the next morning, we both had headaches.
And then the next morning we were both back at work. My days started early and usually ended late. Daphne was a crime scene photographer and her hours varied. She answered the call whenever a crime happened. Neither of us had a standard nine to five.
It was now eight months later, and we’d finally started on the first item on our task list: get fit by joining a fitness group in Austin. They were everywhere and participated in all kinds of activities. We hoped we could also meet people and socialize with someone other than each other and our acquaintances at work. Daphne was also hoping that someone in our new fitness group would be willing to model for her. She was a book cover photographer for romance novels on the side of crime scene photography. Crime scene photography paid the bills until she had a steady income taking the pictures she wanted.
At this rate, we were probably a mile behind everyone else; there wasn’t really any hope of meeting the others. By the time we completed the two miles, they would be on Lady Bird Lake on their paddleboards. Reflecting back, a fitness group that runs for two miles and then paddleboards down Lady Bird Lake for about a mile before finishing at a local taco and margarita bar might have been too ambitious for us. It was the tacos and margaritas that had sold us on this group.
“Technically we participated.” Daphne groaned and fell to the ground in the middle of the running trail. A few joggers passed us by, shaking their heads as they went. Daphne flung her arm over her eyes and rested her other hand on her heart as her breathing slowed down. My hands were still on my quaking knees.
“There’s a bench right there.” I pointed to a shaded spot in front of us. Daphne lifted her arm from her eyes, glanced at the bench, and shook her head. “That’s too far away.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s twenty feet. We can make it.”
She lifted a leg toward me. “Drag me.”
“I’m not dragging you,” I said, laughing, and half-wobbled, half-jogged to the bench. There was no catching up to the group, and I wasn’t even going to pretend to try. Maybe it’d be easier in the fall or spring, when the Texas heat wasn’t so sticky and stifling, but it was August and the blazing sun roasted me while at a resting heart rate. Adding exercise into the mix wasn’t a good idea.
Daphne slowly stood, looking like a newborn calf as she made her way over to me and collapsed on the bench. She unstrapped her phone from the case velcroed around her arm and pulled it from the pouch, along with a thin metal emery board. She unlocked her phone screen and brought up the New Year’s Resolution checklist we’d made eight months ago. She jabbed her finger on the screen and turned toward me, smiling. “There, we did it.”
I snorted. “I’m not sure I’d call half a mile accomplishing our yearly fitness goal,” I said.
She waved off that thought. “Close enough.”
Daphne’s face was blotchy and red from the exertion and heat. Wheat-blonde hair was sticking to the edges of her face, and her smattering of freckles was lost in the redness of her cheeks and nose. She filed the edge of one of her nails before holding her hand out in front of her and inspecting it.
“I can’t believe you brought an emery board on a run with you.”
“I figured
