Proposing to Preston (The Winslow Brothers, #2)(11)

“Actually, I disagree with you. It doesn’t take any courage to be someone else. It’s much scarier to be yourself.” She scanned his face, wondering if she’d said too much. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, reaching toward her face like he was going to push a lock of her hair behind her ear and then stopping himself at the last minute. As if to control them better, he stuck his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side and grinning at her. “Listen, I liked your performance. I think you’re intriguing. I don’t have to walk you home, but I’d like to. You don’t need to be nervous, because I don’t expect anything from you. We can talk or walk in silence, but it’s just steps. One after the other until we get to where you need to go. Nothing less. Nothing more.”

She swallowed, taking a deep breath, a little swept away and a lot reassured by his short, gentle speech. Her bunched-up shoulders relaxed and she nodded at him gratefully.

“I bet you’re a good lawyer,” she said, resuming their walk, inexplicably happy when his footsteps matched hers.

“I don’t know yet. I was supposed to be studying for the bar tonight, but I…got distracted.”

That made her smile, and she stole a peek at him, noting a small dimple in the cheek closest to her. It made her breath catch and her heart hugged itself like it had just learned a new secret about something completely wonderful.

“What kind of law will you practice?”

“Sports. Well, sports and entertainment, technically,” he answered. “I was—I mean, I used to row at school, in college. I loved it. But…”

“But?”

“I tore my rotator cuff,” he said, a slight bitterness entering his voice. “I had surgery to repair it, but the damage was too extensive. I had to give it up.” He paused, giving her a sly look. “The rowing, not the shoulder.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was, too.”

“It was important to you.”

He nodded. “Very. I was on the national team, a few months out from the Olympic trials. Yeah, it sucked.”

Her eyes widened. Rowing hadn’t just been a hobby or pastime for him, but a passion, a huge commitment, a lifestyle…like the stage was for her. And he’d had to give it up? She didn’t know how she’d survive giving up something she loved as much as acting. Her sympathy for him was sudden and enormous.

“Wow. I…Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“I was pissed for a while, you know? It was a real blow to be sidelined so close to making the Games, and I guess it didn’t help that my brother’s an Olympic sailor. He made it all the way and I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t help it that you got injured,” she pointed out.

“I could’ve. I was training too hard. I wasn’t allowing my muscles time to repair themselves.”

“You were pushing yourself to be the best. I get that.”

“You do, don’t you?” he said, with a bit of wonder.

She nodded. “Acting’s my whole life.”

“And with tonight’s big break,” he said, “you’re about to explode.”

She chuckled. “Don’t jinx me!”

“I don’t believe in the jinx,” he said. “I believe in hard work, in setting goals, and seeing them through. You’re the only one who can make your dreams come true.”

Elise sighed beside him, her heart fluttering as she absorbed the simple beauty of his words. You’re the only one who can make your dreams come true.

“I love that,” she said softly, goosebumps covering her arm as it brushed against his.

It was much warmer than last night and Mr. Winslow had rolled up his long sleeves to the middle of his forearm. She looked down at the sinew of muscle, likely leftover from his rowing days. He had thick, strong arms. They’d feel like heaven wrapped around her.

“So, how did law school figure into your plan?” she asked, anxious to distract herself from the nearness of him, the strange intimacy of walking side by side with him.

“I’d planned to go to law school after the Olympics. You know, win the gold, become a sports lawyer. Make millions. Rinse, repeat.”

“Marketing via Olympics.”

“Exactly.” He sighed. “But there was no Olympics, and no gold. Just me, a washed up rower who can’t row anymore.”

Elise reached for his arm and stopped walking, the pressure of her fingers halting him mid-stride as he looked down at his arm and then into her eyes.

“You’re much more than that. With drive like yours? I bet you’ll be the best sports lawyer New York and Philadelphia have ever seen. You’re not a washed-up anything. Know what I think? I think you’re on the verge of greatness too.”

***

Preston had meant the words “washed up” lightly, jokingly almost, except that when he talked about his failed bid for the 2008 Olympics, it felt like yesterday, not five years ago, and he couldn’t help the bitterness that still slipped into his voice.

It had been a brutal blow to find out that he couldn’t row competitively anymore. Not only had he wanted to follow in his older brother, Brooks’ footsteps, he’d found his identity in rowing. His father, the late Taylor Winslow, had crewed in college, and Preston had felt a kinship to his father when he was out on the water, sliding down a glassy river. Losing his chance at the Olympics had been like losing his dad all over again. And though his acceptance to Columbia law school had been fast-tracked and he’d graduated Cum Laude a cool three years later, it hadn’t erased the goals he’d worked so hard to achieve, and it didn’t relieve the sting of disappointed dreams either.