Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(100)
I rubbed my grips together and turned my attention to the bars. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and jumped up to start my routine. I tried to hit every skill with confidence, but midway through, I felt the sting of tears in the corners of my eyes. Before they could stain my cheeks, they bowed to centripetal force as I rotated around the bar and leapt from my face. Every handstand was a second too short. My arms were shaky and weak. I nearly missed my hands on my final release move, and in the end, I dismounted with an easy backflip, a skill I’d competed when I was eight.
I couldn’t look at Erik as I walked away.
There was nothing to say; I was losing my grip.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Brie,” he called out, trying to get ahold of my arm, but I jerked free and kept walking. I couldn’t talk to anyone. Molly was standing near our bags, watching me with a careful expression. She pitied me, but I didn’t need her pity. I needed my body to cooperate.
“Hey.”
Erik’s hand hit my elbow as I brushed by him and he pulled me back gently until I was staring at his chest. His hands were on my shoulders, slowly massaging the muscles there, easing the tension building up inside me.
“Take a deep breath,” he said, tilting my chin up with his finger.
I frowned. “What?”
His blue eyes met mine and for the first time that morning, I could feel myself starting to relax.
“Some things are out of your control, but not your breath, so breathe in with me, okay?” He dropped his hand back to my shoulder and together, we inhaled slowly. I watched his chest filling up with air and my own followed suit.
He nodded. “Hold it for another second.”
I did.
“Now let it out slowly.”
He smiled. “Good. Again.”
I didn’t know how he was doing it, but my stomach was loosening and the stress I’d felt only a moment earlier was starting to disappear. Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned forward and engulfed him in a tight, all-consuming hug. His heart beat against my cheek and I squeezed my eyes shut, taking in the moment for as long as possible.
His voice was smooth and confident as he continued, “When you get up on that bar, imagine I’m the only one watching you. I’ll be two feet away, ready to catch you if you fall.”
And what if I’ve already fallen?
What then?
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Brie
Winning gold in individual all-around finals had been an accomplishment that never seemed attainable. Even as I stood on the podium, clutching my bouquet of flowers and waving out at the crowd, I expected someone to force me from the dream. I clutched the bouquet to my chest as tight as possible, prepared for someone to try to rip them from my clutch and apologize about the mistake. How could a girl from nothing make it to this point? I felt a million miles away from my old life in Austin—the alarms that rang before the sun rose, the stiff, discolored seats on long public bus commutes, the stinging of ripped hands, and the lonely nights that never seemed to end.
I stood on the tallest podium as tears spilled down my cheeks. I was tired and sweaty and sore. I’d had a long day of competing, but the adrenaline pumping through me made it easy to stand up tall. The national anthem streamed through the speakers and I glanced to my left, meeting Molly’s eyes as she stood on the podium to my right.
“Congratulations,” she whispered, reaching out to clutch my hand. We stayed linked through the remainder of the anthem, and with both of my hands occupied, the tears slipped from my cheeks and down onto my leotard.
Erik had been by my side all day, helping me breathe when my nerves tried to take over and pulling me into tight hugs after I’d finished one perfect routine after another. On television, his embrace probably looked identical to the ones doled out by the other athletes’ excited and supportive coaches, but between us, I’d felt something more. When I’d finished my final routine, he’d gathered me into his arms and whispered in my ear.
“You did it. You won.”
He hadn’t even seemed shocked about it, not like I was.
I looked up and scanned the crowd, trying to find him. There were people everywhere, reporters and Olympic staff crowding around, but he stood just to the side, in front of everyone else, wearing an easy smile. When our eyes locked, his smile widened and I held his gaze.
“I did it,” I mouthed.
He nodded, once.
After that moment, the rest of the day was a blur. I was ushered off the podium and directed toward my first interview. Erik stayed close, standing by my side as the NBC reporter doled out question after question. I tried in vain to suppress the tears so I could answer the questions without sounding like a blubbering mess.
After that, I was swept away for more interviews and photos. Molly stayed close by my side and as much as they wanted to interview me, the bigger story involved the two of us. Only once before had two American gymnasts snagged both gold and silver in the individual all-around competition. They tried to scoop the story of resentment or hatred between us, but Molly only squeezed my hand tighter.
“She deserves that gold medal more than anyone I know,” she insisted with a firm tone. “Besides, silver works better with my complexion.”
For the remainder of the day, she and I were photographed and interviewed by dozens of reporters. It was one of the best, most exhausting days of my life, and by the time we made it back to the condo, I couldn’t believe I had to wake up the following day for more.