Dream Runner Read Free Page B

a chest. “We’ve been together a long time, man. I know the hurt you’re feelin’, but this doesn’t have to be the end. You’ve still got power. You can still run.”
    “An’ I’m a thirty-four year old runner in a game played like war by twenty-two year olds. Lasting ‘til you reach thirty is a good stretch for a runner. The irony is not lost on me.”
    “But it’s not the only thing you know. You’ve got other things going for you,” Dench suggested. Antoine Jacob Yarborough Jr. was a smart man, smart in a lot of ways. Not a lot of the men gifted enough to play in the NFL had his kind of savvy—even if he did talk to himself. AJ might truly hate his given name, but he was smart enough to have finished the education degree as he had promised his folks. He had gone on to complete the master’s degree that got him into physical therapy school during the off-seasons. It’s not like he’ll ever be hurtin’ for money, his friend thought, realizing where the real pain would always come from.
    “So, ah, AJ? You got any plans?”
    “Not yet,” the now ex-player said, pacing. “Maybe I’ll go ahead and set up a PT practice on my own. The Lord knows I’ll sure have time for it now.” Stopping midstep, he looked back the way he had come, then turned and stared out at the road ahead of him. His eyes narrowed, and he wiped his big hands against his sweatpants. “Besides that, I don’t know, but I gotta go forward. Got to.”
    “How you gonna do that, AJ?”
    The player began a steady jog up the road. “Only way I know how.” He picked up speed, forcing the other man to run harder. “I’m gonna run.”

Chapter 2
    July 4th, Peachtree Road Race
    Standing in the middle of Peachtree Street, Marlea glanced over at the Westin Hotel, then back over her shoulder. For as far as she could see, past the stretch of Lenox Mall and down the hill, there were wall-to-wall people, six lanes of die-hard runners decked out in holiday-themed running gear. Lots of red, white, and blue, with more than a sprinkling of Uncle Sam or Lady Liberty outfits. Good thing the weather’s cool this morning, she thought, watching the runners line up around and mostly behind her.
    Spectators had been stopped and rerouted a mile back. From where Marlea stood, she could see the seeded runners, those with highly competitive amateur time records in the time group behind hers. You’ll be in the first group, Libby had fussed. Even though you’re running with the elite runners, I don’t want you taking any chances. Don’t push any harder than you have to, a six-minute mile is good enough to get you in—anything else is gravy.
    Libby’s words were like music to her ears, and Marlea’s face changed, lit by her inner smile. Elite runner, that’s what they call the people this far up in the crowd. That’s what I am, and though this race is outside my usual class, I’m going to prove it. Libby caught the smile. Just don’t get hurt out there, you don’t have to prove anything. And keep your feet dry, she had added as an afterthought.
    “Right, right, right,” Marlea had agreed to get the trainer to move on. “Everything’s going to be great. I’ll see you in the park.”
    Not convinced, Libby reached for Marlea’s race number and flipped it over. “You didn’t fill it in. You left all the emergency information blank. What were you thinking?”
    “That I’m a healthy, capable adult?”
    “Here.” Libby pushed a black ink pen into Marlea’s hand. “I don’t believe you, 55,000 people out there, and you want to take a chance like that…” The coach’s voice was as dry as her expression. “Be sure to put my name and home and cellphone numbers on there. Just in case…just in case.”
    “Just in case,” Marlea mimicked, dutifully writing. Finished, she accepted safety pins from Libby and pinned the number to her shirt. “Satisfied?”
    “Very.” Libby sucked water from the bottle draped over her shoulder, and looked