unresolved feelings I still have about Wes and our marriage. Over the last several weeks, I’ve been slowly peeling away the layers of my life, and I’ve become aware that, like most moms, I often sacrifice what I want for my kids. I did that in my marriage too. In fact, before coming here, I hadn’t thought about what I want, or what really brings me joy, in forever.”
As he listened, Simon’s hand found hers. His thumb rubbed circles in her palm, his touch light but oh so powerful.
Angela chewed her lip. “I know that sounds extremely selfish. But I truly do love my children and want them to have the world. And I’ve realized that if I’m constantly giving to them and nothing is filling me up, then what?” She released a breath. “I fear that I’ll make the same mistakes with you—with anyone—and simply fall into a life again instead of purposely choosing it.”
The breeze blew cold against her face. Angela’s gaze found Simon’s. He hadn’t said a word during her confession. Now, though, she longed to know what he was thinking. “So?”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“Thank you for listening.”
“Always.” His brow furrowed. “You’ve been honest, and I need to be too. I know you say this isn’t about me, but I can’t help but think you might feel differently with another man. I never want you to feel trapped in our relationship, as if I’m asking you to be anyone other than yourself. I love the person you are, Angela Jamison—even the parts of you you haven’t figured out yet.”
He hadn’t said the words “I love you,” but he might as well have for the way his gaze stole her breath.
“That’s not true. It really isn’t you. You have been patient and kind and nonjudgmental. A true friend despite my wishy-washy emotions.”
“And I will always be your friend, if that’s what you need.” He looked away from her for the first time since she’d started talking. “I want you to find the thing that fills you up. And I won’t stand in your way while you do it.”
Her heart screamed at her as she leaned against him. Had she just pushed away something that might bring her joy because of the fear it might be stolen instead?
27
Eva was just plain tired. Tired of the heartache—Valentine’s Day had come and gone yesterday without fanfare.
Tired of the constant need for mental pep talks, of the inner questions.
Even tired of running.
But she and Angela were only halfway done with a twenty-two miler through hilly country populated by not much more than trees, rocks, and mosquitoes. Never had she been more grateful for bug spray as she was on this warm and cloudy day.
They’d slogged through their mileage as the dirt trail rose and fell, alternately running and walking through the tree cover—though only doing the latter momentarily to catch their breath or take a water or bathroom break.
In one month they had to do seven times this distance over the course of seven days. No matter how badly her body wanted to, stopping wasn’t an option. They needed every second of training they could get.
As if Eva wasn’t in enough of a funk on her own, Angela had also been less than chatty since she’d returned from her late-night kayak ride with Simon earlier this week. Seemingly lost in introspection, she’d barely spoken two words to Eva this morning.
All of that gave Eva ample opportunity to think about what Joanne had said last week: “My biggest sorrow is more about the things I lost to fear.” Even so, fear was a fierce adversary.
But the thought kept popping up as they ran, growing like the lichen attached to many of the large boulders and tree trunks they passed in the forest. Like a fungus, it clung to her heart, covering it, suffocating it, making it difficult to focus.
She desperately needed a distraction. “Is something going on?”
Angela’s head snapped up. “What?”
“You’ve been quiet all week. And I’ve noticed you haven’t spent any time with Simon lately. Everything okay?”
“Yes, I—” Angela slowed to a walk. “I guess that’s not true. Something is going on, but I’m not sure talking about it is going to solve anything, considering I don’t know how I feel about . . . it.”
Sometimes her sister-in-law was her own worst enemy. “I find that verbally processing helps me.”
In her case, Eva didn’t need to verbally process. She knew what she should do about Marc. Even what she