He blinked. “I just did.”

“No, you just acknowledged your assholery. You haven’t apologized at all.”

“Oh.” He wished he had Pebbles, but she was with Darius and Sebastian. “Well, I’m sorry.”

“Shitty job, Josh. Try again.” Her face was hard, mouth tight. She looked like she might spit acid at him in another minute.

He blew out a breath, trying to give her what she wanted. “I’m very sorry?” She shook her head. “Sarah, I’m sorry for what I said.” He paused. “You were a good friend to Lauren. She appreciated you.”

Sarah had her hands on her hips. “Still not feeling it.”

“I’m deeply sorry.”

“Do you even have normal human emotions, Josh? Because what you said cut me to my heart, okay? There was nothing you could’ve said that would’ve hurt more. So a few crappy sentences aren’t going to cut it.”

“No,” he said.

“What?”

“No, I’m not sure I have normal human emotions. I did with Lauren. But . . . not so much anymore.”

Sarah’s face softened, becoming quite pretty and not like she was going to spit acid anymore. She opened her arms, so he had to hug her, which he did, but not too hard and not too long.

“I’m forgiving you for her sake. Let’s have dinner sometime, though, and really talk.”

More talking? Shit. “That’d be great. Thank you.”

“The race is starting. Let’s go.”

Thank God. He joined Lauren’s family. Sebastian and Octavia were gleeful at being pushed in running strollers decorated with blue and green streamers. Darius, the former football player, was in admirable shape, and Jen was, too—they both did that kind of exercise where they threw truck tires and did one-handed push-ups till they vomited. Sarah had run cross-country in college, if he remembered correctly. And he ran, too, so it wasn’t like he was a slacker.

Except, apparently, he was. Within a quarter of a mile, he was working hard to keep up. Sarah’s legs were inches longer than his, and Darius and Jen had a game going on where each kid got to be in the lead for a few strides before the other overtook them. Josh, on the other hand, was hurting. Leg cramps. Side pain.

At the one-mile marker, his face felt tight and fiery. Why was this so hard? He should be able to do three miles in his sleep. He ran five almost every day.

Ah. He hadn’t eaten today. Or last night, now that he thought of it. Had he had anything to drink other than coffee this morning?

No. “You guys go ahead,” he called. “I’ll catch up.”

Sarah didn’t pause, her braids swinging as she continued.

“You okay?” Jen asked over her shoulder.

“I didn’t drink enough this morning. See you at the finish line.”

“I’ll slow down for you, Josh,” Darius said.

“No, Daddy! Run faster!” Sebastian demanded.

“It’s okay,” Josh said. “You go ahead. Pebbles needs a drink, too.” Yes. Blame the dog.

He swerved to a water station, accepted a water bottle and drank it, watching them get farther and farther ahead. That was fine. He’d never mastered talking and running at the same time anyway.

He gave Pebbles the rest of the water, then continued running. The heat, the thickness of the air . . . ugh. He hadn’t thought to put on sunscreen, either. No baseball cap to cut the ruthless glare of the sun.

A woman was running at about the same pace. She was pushing a tiny stroller that could only fit a newborn. Should she be out so soon after giving birth? Josh wondered. Scientific curiosity got the best of him, and he angled over to look at her child, peered in, then flinched.

Not a baby. A very ugly dog with a bald, fat stomach and scraggly, grayish-white fur.

“Hi!” said the owner.

“I thought your dog was a baby.”

“Oh, he is. My fur baby! Hey! I know you! Don’t I? Have we met?”

It was the woman from the vet’s. Rather a shock that her dog was still alive.

“We both use Dr. Kumar.”

“Right!”

Also, he’d seen her spill a tray of drinks on someone. The night he’d met Radley, and punched the rude man.

“So this is . . . ?”

“Duffy, remember? Duffy, say hi!” Duffy didn’t move, lying on his side, his tongue hanging out. Josh was tempted to ask if he might have died, but then again, the poor woman would find out soon enough. “What’s your dog’s name again?” she asked.

“Pebbles.”

“Oh, right. Like Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm?”

Josh had no idea. “Yeah.”

“This is a great cause, isn’t it?”

“Sure.” Again, the running-and-talking thing . . . difficult.

“My brother has Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. You know . . . the one where your joints are loose and they dislocate all the time?”

“Uh-huh.” The rhythm of his feet on the pavement was hypnotic, echoing a little, almost soothing.

“So he’s doing okay, but there’s no cure. Yet. He needs pain relief, mostly. He doesn’t seem to have the vascular part. Thank God.”

“That’s good.” Was it because Josh was running that he couldn’t quite see the people lining the streets? Or was he—

“He’s only twenty-two, poor kid. And you know what? People think he’s an addict, because he’s really thin. The pharmacists won’t fill his pain meds because they think he’s a junkie, and even though his doctor called—” She glanced at him. “Are you okay?”