I smiled. “He knows me so well.”

* * *

“Okay. Here’s how it’s going to go.” Jamie shifted his bike around so he was facing the group. “We’re divided into teams of two. Mom and Dad, me and Lane, Dave and Katie, and Cooper and Simon. Just like in a high school cross country meet, the place that each person finishes becomes their score. We’ll add up the combined score of each team, and the lowest number wins the day.”

I glanced sideways at Cooper, who sat on his bike beside me, and raised my eyebrows. “Is he serious?”

Cooper nodded. “Oh, he’s serious. All the brochures and travel guides in the world call the Virginia Creeper a leisurely, low-key bike trail through the mountains, but that doesn’t matter to Jamie. We’re riding? That means we’re racing.”

“He’s always been this way,” Dave said. “Growing up, everything was a race.”

“Walking through the mall,” Cooper said.

“Finishing homework,” Dave added.

“Saturday chores,” Cooper said.

“Even passing the sacrament around the chapel on Sundays,” Dave said. “He always tried to hit the back pew first.”

The idea of an impatient, twelve-year-old Jamie hurrying people through the sacrament bread and water so he could be first to finish almost made me laugh out loud. “Suddenly the intensity of our soccer games makes perfect sense.”

“Lane!” Jamie called from the front of the group. “You’re with me.”

It had been awhile since I’d been on a bike, but I’d been told the Virginia Creeper really was a leisurely, low-key bike trail, so I wasn’t too worried about it. I’d seen two other groups start out since we’d hit the top of the trail that had had small kids in wagons pulled behind their parents’ bikes, so if they could handle it, surely I could too. I waved and rode my bike up to where he stood waiting for me.

“Here’s the game plan,” he said. He was adorable when he was fired up. “We’ll try and stay together as long as we can, but if something happens and we get separated, whoever’s in the front needs to pull ahead. The faster that person finishes, the less it’ll matter if the person in the back gets held up. Got it?”

“So basically, if you fall off your bike and break your arm, you’re telling me not to stop and help but keep going so we can win.”

He leaned over and kissed me, turning his head completely sideways so our bike helmets didn’t bump. “You’re speaking my language, baby.”

“What if I get a flat tire? I have no idea how to change a tire on a bike.”

He blew out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess if you get a flat tire, I’ll stop and help you.”

I laughed. “Okay. Let’s do it.”