Racing Hearts: A Lesbian/Transgender Sports Romance

“Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up.” –Dean Karnazes, ultra-marathon runner “Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the bold.” –Helen Keller “There is no problem so big it cannot be run away from.” –Snoopy (Charles M. Schulz) Characters and Continuity Like all the books in the For the Love of the Game series, Racing Hearts is a stand-alone romance that can be read and enjoyed without any knowledge of my other work. However, there are characters here who have appeared in other books and have their own continuing arcs. Tricia and Noelle Brinker first appeared in Diamond Heat, as did Arugula J. Cunningham, Holly Milan, Daisy Flowers, and Jonas Sutton. Jordan Noether and Julia first appeared in Simply Connected. Content Warning Racing Hearts includes several scenes of confrontation with transphobia and bigotry, as well as discussions of mental health issues. Tricia “They’re going to challenge my credentials?” I balanced the cellphone between ear and shoulder while I used two hands to try and tug my front door shut. “We went through this at the beginning of the case. You’re the attorney of record and I’m working under you.” “It’s a stalling tactic,” my boss Evelyn said. “Which means they’re probably up to something else.” The door thunked shut and the latch caught. Whenever the weather was wet the wood swelled and it became a bitch to open or close. This being Seattle, that was pretty much all the time. I didn’t complain to the landlady because she never fixed anything that didn’t literally fall apart, and whenever I mentioned other needed repairs she started talking about raising the rent. I should casually mention sometime that my daughter played D&D at the mayor’s house. That might make her think twice. As soon as the lock clicked, I remembered I hadn’t taken my meds. I really should go back and get them, but the prospect of wrestling the door open and then closed again was too much. I’d miss my bus for sure. I sighed. “Ev, I have to run to catch the bus. We’ll figure out what they’re up to, we always do.” She laughed. “There’s the optimism I hired you for. Go, run.” “Run? You’ve got me confused with my kid.” I glanced at the door one last time, thinking of the pill bottle in the nightstand drawer by my bed. Feeling guilty. Screw it, I’d take them when I got home. It wouldn’t make any difference. The sun burned through the morning fog a little earlier today than it had a week ago. The days were getting longer. People grouse about the gloomy Seattle weather, but I usually find the sun’s struggle against the gray inspiring. It never gives up and it always wins in the end. For a while. On impulse, I changed directions. Hurrying — not actually running, I’m not the runner in the family, and I was wearing heels — up the short hill to 20th. If I could catch the alternate route on Delridge that would get me downtown faster. I didn’t usually take it because the walk was way harder, and I don’t have my daughter’s taste for physical exertion. Thinking about my daughter, Noelle, made me wonder how she was doing in school. We’d lived in Eastern Washington for a few years, while I went to law school. She’d done OK in the schools over there, mostly keeping to herself and not making any close friends that I knew of. You can’t really call that part of the state liberal, but considering where we came from, it was a big improvement. Now, we were finally in Seattle, where the schools — I hoped — would be more accepting. Noelle was standing firm on her decision not to join the track team here. None of my arguments moved her. And I wanted to be a lawyer, hah! Running was what Noelle loved most in the world. More even than baseball player Jonas Sutton, whose poster she kept on her bedroom wall. “I don’t do teams,” she’d say, whenever the subject came up. And given her experiences back home in Podunk, who could blame her? She had a similarly teenage answer when I asked her how school was going. “Fine.” I stopped for traffic on Henderson and noticed a runner coming up the hill. Because of Noelle, I notice runners. I usually try to give them a nod or a wave. This woman I would’ve noticed anyway. I’d seen her running in the mornings and there was something familiar about her. Tall, with long muscled legs and toned arms. When she was running, she wore her dark brown hair pulled back in a high pony tail, and today, like most days, she wore only a sports bra and leggings, despite the chill. I notice runners, like I said. But I was almost embarrassed by noticing her. I would force myself to quickly glance away, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder as she passed. To be honest, she was hot. But she wasn’t out here running to be gawked at. So, I controlled myself. Mostly. Today something was different. I know something about runners. More accurately, I know a lot about one particular runner. I’d seen Noelle push herself hard plenty of times. And I’d seen her push herself too hard more than once. I knew there were days when, despite how much she loved the sport, it was just hard to make herself do it. The woman had just come up a long hill. Just past the intersection, she staggered to a stop and put her hands on her knees. Probably just winded. Just one of those days. But I do know something about runners. My face flushed