Hold My Breath(84)

“Maddy, that was a full point three faster than you’ve ever swam. That was incredible!” She stands and cups her mouth, turning to my father who is still frozen with the watch in his hand, staring at the time.

I feel Will’s hand cup the back of my head and move me close enough so he can kiss my forehead and hold his against mine.

“That’s my girl,” he grins.

I laugh lightly, still in disbelief, because I felt like Will was absolutely smoking me in the water, but then my head does the math and I glance up to take in my father’s expression again. The watch now back in his pocket, he’s concentrating on a few notes he’s writing on the clipboard, his eyes pinched in, making a deep wrinkle between them. Will still beat me, but I could feel his movement in the water the entire way. Our race shouldn’t have been that close. While I swam a personal best, Will swam a personal worst. He did it days before a race.

Will pushes away from the wall and floats backward, his ears under the water and his eyes open on the sky. He winks at me as he drifts out of my reach, but his smile falls the moment his face tilts, and I can tell he’s weighed down with what just happened and what it means. What I want to tell him is it doesn’t mean shit! It means he saw a dozen sprints today after putting his body through weeks of stress. Sometimes we’re tired. This little showdown in the pool doesn’t count for anything other than making my mom feel good she saw me swim fast. The race that counts happens Saturday, and then the Saturday after.

Everyone’s exited the water, and I pull myself up to stand near my parents, my mom still glowing over my time, my father continuing to work out whose side he wants to be on. Will showed weakness just now, and the number-cruncher who is getting pressure to drag Will down should be tittering like a happy, evil fool. He’s not, though. He’s caught in-between, and I can’t take watching him wade in limbo any longer.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, my voice hushed, but angry. My dad’s eyes snap to mine, and my mom’s smile falls fast, her brow lowered as she glances between us.

“Not here, Maddy,” my father says, nodding over my shoulder. I turn to see Will still floating, pushing himself to the other side of the pool. It wouldn’t matter if he could hear or not, though.

“He knows what you think of him,” I grit. “Of his odds and the benefit it brings to the table. He’s not stupid, Dad. But he’s sure as hell hurt.”

My mom’s head falls to one side and she glares at my father.

“Are you undermining that boy, Curtis?” she spits out.

“No!” My father raises one hand, trying to stop our train of conversation.

“The fact that even now—after the interview, where Will was obviously protecting me from speculation and rumors—you still can’t see how much more you have to gain with him on your side rather than just being good enough to hold open the door, Dad…” I start, stopping when my mom’s hand slaps hard against my father’s chest.

“He’s like a son to us, Curtis. You love Will!” she says, no longer guarding her volume.

I turn to see Will now holding himself at the pool’s edge, his arms stretched out and his eyes on us and our conversation. I turn back to face my father.

“He deserves this, Dad. Probably more than any of us,” I say. My father’s jaw works, his cheeks moving as he grits his teeth. “He deserves it more than me. Definitely more than you. He deserves it more than Evan ever did, Dad.”

My father’s eyes flutter closed at the mention of Evan’s name. It isn’t something he’s put on. My dad had dreams of coaching both of these boys to their highest levels. But Will is so much more worthy.

“He can’t do this without you. I can push him. But nobody can bring out what he needs to win like you can,” I say.

My father doesn’t respond, but the tightness in his face eases, until he’s left with nothing but sad, sloping eyes and cheeks that weigh down his mouth.

“Is this about saving the club?” my mom finally says. “This…dump?”

A laugh escapes my mom’s chest as she turns with one palm up, showcasing the eight-lane pool, cracking deck, and fence covered with awnings held down by twisty-ties.

“It’s all we have, Susan,” my dad shakes his head, his eyes lost on the ground a few feet away.

My mom laughs once more.

“No, Curtis,” she says, leaning toward me and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “No, it’s not even close to all we have. And when it comes to priorities, it doesn’t even make the list.”

My mom walks around the edge of the pool, stopping at Will on the other end, bending down, and pressing a kiss to his head. She looks up to catch our stare one last time, and nods—a warning to my father. I look back at him to find his face unchanged, but the sadness reflected in his eyes stronger. His chest lifts slowly as he blinks, his gaze moving from the door my mom just closed to the man waiting for his help in the water. He’s quiet for several seconds, and I let his mind work out whatever fog I see passing behind his eyes, until he finally throws the clipboard to the ground between our feet and moves past me.

“Fuck it,” he says, kicking his shoes from his feet and tugging his shirt over his head. He’s wearing workout shorts, and he turns to me handing me the contents of his pocket before turning back and diving into the pool. He swims toward Will, who glances from me to this strange version of my father swimming toward him. All I can do is move back a few steps to the bleacher seats, gathering my father’s things with me so I can watch.