Annabel giggled, reaching for the loose ends of my hair and tugging to bring me closer.

“Well rested,” Max said. “Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the rest of us in the house.”

I let out a dramatic gasp. “Did you wake the hungover adult up, sweet baby?” I asked her, pretending to gobble up her little foot.

Max groaned. “Up at the ruddy crack of dawn and then slept the whole way here. Happy as a clam now.”

“Well wouldn’t you be?” I said, standing. Attempting to make some sense of my hair, I smoothed the tangled strands back with my fingers and used an elastic from around my wrist to secure them on the top of my head. “She’s got someone pushing her around Central Park and catering to her every whim. We should all be so lucky.”

“I’ll agree with you there. Though I imagine William would do the same for you if you asked nicely enough.”

“Ha.” I looked to the side, out at the seemingly endless stretch of trees.

“Speaking of... where is your Will today?” he asked, following my gaze out into the park.

“Oh... he’s... still sleeping,” I said, making a show of dusting off my knees and turning toward the trail. I didn’t miss the edge in my voice... I’m sure Max didn’t, either. Will was still asleep because I wanted a chance to run without fighting the urge to push him into the reservoir. I definitely wouldn’t be mentioning that to Max.

“Still asleep,” Max repeated, clearly pleased. It didn’t take a genius to know that later today he’d be either congratulating Will or giving him epic shit.

“Ready to go?” I asked, and Max nodded, polite enough to ignore my weirdness.

We started at the USS Maine statue—Max and Anna at my side—heading down the path that led to the main loop. The trail went from a downward slope to a steady climb up Cat Hill, and I concentrated on the pounding of my feet on the ground, the whir of the stroller’s tires on the pavement next to me, all the while preparing for Harlem Hill.

Harlem Hill had always been a good barometer of the kind of day I was having. On a decent morning I could make it to the top and still manage a few curse words along the way—just enough to make Will laugh. If my week had been particularly rough, I’d push on with barely a word, brain empty of all but one thought: Run yourself into the ground.

Will knew me well enough to gauge my moods, and apparently so did Max.

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, Bolt,” he said from just behind me.

I’d been running—flat-out sprinting along the trail—and poor Max was struggling to stay next to me.