Page 67 of Locke

Arch rolls his shoulders and steps to the sled as the other guys load his weight.He drives well—powerful and low—and when he finishes, he turns around breathing hard and points at the group.“Beat that.”

Boss goes next and he does beat it, by four-tenths of a second, and the victory dance he does is disproportionate to the margin.Rome goes and splits the difference between them.Crosby does a hell of a run and edges Arch by a tenth.

Then Locke steps up.

The joking quiets and no one engages him in light bantering, I suspect because no one knows him well enough to do so.I’m hoping that will change soon.

Locke sets his hands on the bar, drops his hips, and takes a deep breath.I can’t help it but inside, I’m cheering him on to win.

“On your mark,” I say, holding up my stopwatch.“Get set.Go.”

Locke drives hard and whatever he’s channeling to push himself, it’s working.I can tell before looking at the results that he’s faster than all of them, and the margin isn’t even close.

Inside my head, I do a little victory dance for him because I know he never would.

He’s huffing and puffing and rolls his neck once before grabbing his water bottle.

“And Locke has you all beat,” I announce, holding out the stopwatch.

“Oh, come on,” Boss laments.

“Do it again,” Arch demands.“I want to see that again.”

“That’s not how it works,” Locke says, then takes another swig of water.

“Donovan.”Boss points at him.“You’ve been holding out on us.”

I see the barest suggestion of a smile before he shutters off again.

“All right,” I say, handing the stopwatch off to Crosby.“My turn.”

That gets their attention.

“You’re running it?”Arch asks, almost reverently.

“Seventy-five percent of my body weight, same as everyone else.”

I step up as Rome loads my weight, risking a glance at Locke.He gives me a nod, as if to sayYou’ve got this.

I know my load is considerably lighter than theirs in raw pounds, but it’s proportionally identical.I step into position, wrapping my hands around the bar.I’ve done sled work for years, long before this job, and I know my mechanics.Hips down, drive from the legs, don’t let the upper body collapse forward.

Crosby counts me down and I’m off.

The guys cheer me on as I dig deep, whooping and hollering as I drive down the track length until I cross the finish line.I hunch over, breathing hard with my hands on my knees.

I twist my neck, call back to Crosby.“Time?”

Crosby looks at the watch and calls it out.

“Holy shit.”Arch cackles.“You beat Rome.”

“She did not,” he exclaims, looking over Crosby’s shoulder at the results.“Fuck.”

“The watch doesn’t lie,” Crosby says, and there’s amusement in it.

“She beat Rome,” Arch says, looking between me and Rome with the delighted expression of a man who has just been given a gift.“Rome.She beat Rome.”

“Okay,” Rome says, pointing at the sled.“I need a rematch.Someone get me a lighter sled.”