Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(86)

It was a ten-minute walk back in the dark. I shoved my hands into my pockets and tried to focus on the sound of the ocean in the distance, lapping up against the shore. It was no use; I hadn’t thought about that night in a long time. It was easier to keep the past in the past, and talking about it with Brie had brought up all that residual emotion. Just before I’d made it back up to my condo, I paused on the sidewalk, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and dialed my mom’s number.

She answered on the second ring and my chest tightened with the excitement in her voice.

“Erik!”

“Hey Mom.”

“I’m surprised to hear from you. I’d assumed you wouldn’t return my calls until you got back home.”

I kicked the curb, loosening up gravel with the toe of my shoe.

When I didn’t answer, she continued. “Your father and I watched qualifications yesterday. The girls all performed so well, Erik—”

I cut her off. “Do you think he regrets it?”

Silence.

She knew what I was talking about. The night my father kicked me out of our house had tainted the air surrounding our family for the last ten years. There wasn’t a phone call that passed with my mom or my grandfather without some mention of my father’s mistakes.

“Every day,” she answered simply. “He felt embarrassed, and he took it out on you. I know he regrets it every single day.”

Silence.

I kicked at the asphalt harder.

“Sometimes perpetual regret is exactly what someone deserves,” I said, feeling the anger growing inside me.

She sighed, long and heavy. “You’re right. I can’t force you to forgive him. You never have to forgive him for what he did to you.”

“And what about what he’s still doing? I read his quote in the newspaper before I left for Rio—I know he doesn’t think I deserve to coach this team.”

“What are you talking about? Your father hasn’t talked to the press in years. He’s been in the hospital, trying to get well.” She sighed. “Whatever you read must have been taken from an old interview or something. He’s proud of you, Erik. So proud of you.”

I hated that she wouldn’t force me to talk to him. It’d be one thing if everyone were pushing us together, if they demanded I see his side, but no one did that. They understood my feelings, and for ten years, they’d given me all the space I wanted, which in some way only made it worse because then the decision was all on me.

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything, Erik,” she continued. “You asked me if he regrets the last ten years and the answer is yes. He lives with the guilt of what he put you through every single day. We all carry it with us.”

I could hear the fatigue in her voice. Years of playing mediator, years of lost family gatherings, missed milestones, and deferred emotion had worn her down, but I wouldn’t pretend to love my father just to smooth everything over for her.

He didn’t deserve it, and for that reason, we would all suffer.





Chapter Thirty-Two


Brie





The realization that I loved Erik wrapped around my thoughts with a vice-like grip and never let up. Once the idea had settled in, I knew I could never pretend otherwise. I couldn’t continue to act like what we were doing wasn’t affecting me. He’d opened up to me, bared his soul for me, and now I couldn’t go up against him toe to toe without him seeing the truth in my eyes.

He and I weren’t supposed to fall in love. We’d been at war, fighting and pushing each other because it was a fun distraction, because I liked to get a reaction out of him, and because I just couldn’t help myself. It was the most shocking kind of love I’d ever experienced, the sort that hid itself behind the other edge of the blade—hate. I’d focused so much of my energy on hating Erik that when love appeared out of nowhere, it stole my breath.

I loved Erik.

I loved him and it was possibly the most impractical realization to have the night before competing in the Olympics.

Suddenly, the very idea of being near him, of having to stand in his presence seemed too intimate. Surely everyone around us could tell how far I’d fallen. Surely it would be evident to anyone who was around us that I was in way over my head.

“You awake yet, Watson?”

Molly’s head poked past the door of my bedroom and I smiled.

She was still wearing her pajamas, but I’d already been awake for an hour. I was sitting on my bed in my team leotard, putting the finishing touches on my makeup. I’d pulled my hair up into a bun and pinned it down. I just had to slip into my warm-ups and I’d be ready to head down to breakfast.

“Jeez. When did you wake up?”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t really sleep.”

Fortunately, she didn’t force me to elaborate, but I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky with the rest of the team. As the five of us headed down to the food court for breakfast in our matching warm-ups and competition makeup, I slid into a spot in the far corner of the elevator, trying to stay under everyone’s radar.

It’s like I assumed they’d glance over to me and see I LOVE COACH WINTER scrawled across my forehead. I reached up to touch the skin just over my brow before realizing how insane I was being. No one knows. And I wanted to keep it that way.