Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(80)

“Are you heading back with the team?” I asked, nodding to where Rosie and June were gathering their bags.

“It’s up to you. As long as you’re here, I’ll stay.”

I stood to meet his eye, hating the height difference between us. It felt like I could never quite be on his level. He would always overpower me, just like he had the night before.

“I just want to work through my bar and beam routines a few more times.”

He nodded. “I’ll set the bars. Grab your grips.”

I tugged off my clothes and adjusted my leotard, reaching into my bag for my worn grips. By the time I turned and headed for the bars, Erik was standing, watching me with his arms crossed. There was a darkness clouding his gaze as I stepped up to join him on the far side of the gym.

I expected him to move aside and tell me to get warmed up, but instead, he held my gaze, tilted his head, and asked a question.

“Why are you here right now?”

I frowned, confused. “To practice.”

“Why?”

The silence in the empty gym was deafening.

“Because I want us to place first tomorrow.”

“Why?”

I narrowed my eyes and propped my hands on my hips. “Why?” Why was he doing this? He needed to step aside and let me get started. “Because who doesn’t want to win gold?”

He shook his head. “You’re hiding something. You’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. I know the difference between being nervous and being absolutely terrified to fail. So why? Why are you the latter?”

My throat tightened, constricting my airways. I didn’t want to talk about this. I wanted to slip my grips into place and take the bars, push the rest to the side. “Maybe I just have a little more riding on this competition than other people do.”

“Tell me.”

He stepped closer, blocking my path. He looked like an immovable force, a brick house I had no hope of blowing down. I rolled my eyes and turned away.

“Why don’t you just mind your own business?” His probing was starting to piss me off. I was trying to silence my nerves, not give them a microphone. “We’re not friends. We’re nothing. So just let me finish practicing so I can go home.”

His thumb hit my chin as he tilted my head up. His blue eyes met mine and I flinched at the anger I saw there.

“You think you’re nothing? You think I wanted to leave you in that club last night?”

He sounded pissed.

“How would I know? It’s not like you ever talk to me. You’re impossible to read and I’m sick of trying. For the next few days, I just need to focus on gymnastics.”

His gaze flitted back and forth between my eyes, trying to burrow through to the root of my issues. I had to resist though, because digging would only leave scars. I needed us to continue to walk the tightrope for now, where we didn’t talk about life and love, just f*cked when we couldn’t resist the urge any longer—anything more than that and I wouldn’t be able to walk away in a week. He’d break me completely in two.

His face tipped forward as his finger skimmed along my bottom lip.

“Talk to me.”

I tried to turn my head away, to regain some semblance of composure, but he wouldn’t let me. His grip was too tight on my chin and then on my waist, pulling me against his chest. My leotard and his t-shirt were the only things separating our two bodies, but it felt like nothing. I could feel every move of his muscles, every inhale and exhale as he hugged me close.

“I know for you, gymnastics has been everything for so long you feel like when it all ends, you’ll have nothing.”

I turned my head. “That’s not it.”

“I’m not finished. I know about your life back home. I can guess you think this is your one shot to pull yourself up and give your family some security. You can’t put that on your shoulders, Brie.”

I tried to jerk away. “Don’t make me out to be some kind of victim or martyr. I don’t want your pity; I just want you to help me win. Isn’t that your job?”

“Brie.”

He bent forward and skimmed his lips against mine, chipping away at my armor. My body arched into him, needing more. The need to be near him was a subconscious response, as necessary as breathing.

“You have to clear your head and make the decision: do you want to win for your mom, or for yourself? It’s not your job to take on her pain.”

A tear hit his thumb before I realized I’d started to cry.

It’d been years since I’d cried about this. I buried my feelings so deep down, they never saw the light of day. I focused on gymnastics and pushed the rest aside, but Erik was there, forcing me to feel them, and suddenly it was too much.

My mother had been my rock, my everything. She woke up at the crack of dawn, served others all day, and then she was there after school every day, for me. She bought all her clothes at secondhand shops or just took hand-me-downs from friends. She never dated, never went out. She was a beautiful woman and she deserved happiness, companionship, affection, but there was no time for any of that, not while she was busy allowing me to live my dream.

“I’m here,” he promised, bending low to kiss away the tears on my cheeks. “And you are too. That’s all that matters right now. During the finals, make it your intention to compete for yourself—for all the sweat you’ve spilled, the skin you’ve torn, and the muscles you’ve battered and made stronger.”