twenty-one
Evan
I learned something new about myself today. I don’t like when Callie falls on an event.
It doesn’t make sense since I’ve watched her fall a million times and get right back up, but it’s different when it’s a meet day. I know she’s put an immense amount of pressure on herself to bring in a good score for her team. I know how badly she wanted it, and it’s frustrating when her warm-up was incredible and she didn’t miss one little backward flip thing with no hands. She was killing it, but then she didn’t land it.
As much as it sucks and my heart dropped for her, her strength is without compare and inspiring. Callie glared at the beam, took in a deep breath, and got back on, finishing the rest of her routine aggressively and flawlessly. They still had to drop her score since it was the lowest, but she gave them a fighting chance just in case someone else fell. As much as I wanted to talk to her about it and tell her how incredible she is to me, she only did our handshake without making eye contact.
As an athlete, I respect her process. Even if it makes me twitch and long to comfort her. All the while, I’m so impressed by her, it only makes me like her more. I remember when my cousin Ryan would talk about his now-wife, Sofia, and how she was the best of the best as a gymnast. He would say that the humility of gymnastics and the strength it takes only make you respect the gymnast and the sport even more. I didn’t know it then, but he was right. This sport can humble the hell out of anyone. One second, you’re on; the next, you’re not. It’s insane and truly frustrating.
I put my foot on the mat to keep it from sliding as the crowd loses their damn minds while Callie preps for her tumbling pass. Her floor routine is my favorite. She shows the hell out, and I love watching her. It’s not only because I like her and I think she’s incredible and smart and gorgeous, but for real, she’s the best. Even with her fall on beam, if she lands this pass, she’ll finish strong. As she starts her run, I clap my hands, hollering her name as she hits the floor and does two layouts in the air before landing with no rebound. A stick, the girls call it. The whole gym loses their shit, screaming and cheering as Callie rolls to the floor and poses with one leg bent to touch her head while she holds herself up with her hands.
God, she’s indescribable. She stands, saluting to the judges, before she runs to her coach, hugging him tightly. She has to run by me to get to her teammates, and when she stops for our handshake, my heart soars. Our handshake has become almost like breathing. It’s just what we do, and I dig it.
“Proud of you,” I say as our hands move together as one.
“Eh. The fall?”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re awesome.”
“Thanks,” she says with such happiness in her eyes. I watch as she runs to her teammates just as her score comes up, cheering and celebrating the win. Callie’s score pulled them a full tenth ahead of the other team.
Man, what a win.
As everything finishes up, I go through the team, cutting off ankle wraps and tending to new aliments or concerns. The team is called to the floor for all-arounds and stuff like that, so I clean up our area and then head to my office to put away all the materials I used to make sure the girls were taken care of. There are nine boxes of tape I need to unload, but I’ll do that tomorrow if the girls have practice. I’m exhausted and have an early meeting with Jayden in the morning. I’m taking Callie’s advice, which is also the advice of my therapist—to be honest about what is triggering me. It’s not easy, nor am I prepared for it, but it is what it is.
Once I’m done, I lock up my office and head out. The girls are going to dinner, and since Callie and I don’t want anyone knowing we are dating… I don’t know if we’re dating; I feel like we’re together. Plus, she has seen the really bad parts of me early, so I might be a wee bit attached. Because of that uncertainty, I don’t want to go because I know I’ll just gush and rave over her and no one else. That seems to be an ongoing theme when I’m around her—I only care for her. I have a lot of feelings I don’t understand, and all I know is that I sent her a text to call me when she gets a chance. I’m putting the ball in her court, which I do well with.
I gather my things in my backpack and head out. I check my phone to make sure the hockey house is good. Thankfully, they are, but Mullians, the softball player, is still pursuing charges against Jackson. He’s suspended until everything is resolved, and he is only allowed to practice, not travel with the team or play in a game. I feel awful for the kid, but once again, it is what it is. A hard lesson, but one that was needed, unfortunately. I think it scared everyone in the house, and now they’re all on their best behavior.
Even though Jackson is in trouble, he is still volunteering with the team around campus for the many community events we do. We have a bake sale for unplanned pregnancies that he’s attending, and I’m proud of him for that. I can tell he’s broken about what’s going on, and I feel for him.
I tuck my phone into my back pocket and start toward the house when Nico steps into my path.
Fuck me.
“Hey, why aren’t you inside? It’s—”
“Listen to me,” he demands, and I press my lips together. Nico is massive, no other word for it. He’s very tall and big. Everyone calls him a gentle giant, but I know how he feels about Callie and Aviva. He loves them and protects them at all costs. So, gentle isn’t the word I’d use to describe Nico at this very moment. He doesn’t even need to say what he is about to; I can see it all over his face. “Stay away from Callie.”
Okay. I can handle this one of two ways. Act like I have no clue what is going on, or be honest. Before I can make the choice, though, Nico glares and doesn’t give me the chance to say anything before he says, “You are not allowed to be anything more than a trainer to her. I see the way she looks at you and how you look at her. She is an angel, and people like you will not ruin her. Not after everything she’s been through. She lost both of her parents, and I won’t let you hurt her anymore. I know how your family treats people, and I refuse to allow my daughter to be the next Adler victim.”
I’m completely shocked by the red-hot anger that vibrates through my body. I tuck my hands into my pockets to keep from swinging on him. “You can talk all day about me and my faults. But my family, they are off-limits to you,” I sneer, holding his gaze. “I come from a good family, a strong and kind one,” I start, but when he laughs, my glare deepens.
“Your family is trash. Owen sleeps around like a whore—”
“Slept,” I interject, holding his gaze, and I know it makes him uncomfortable, but I don’t care. He doesn’t get to bash my family and expect me to be kind to his issues. “Past tense. He is in a committed and loving relationship, and you know that. Angie is very important in your life, so don’t disrespect the love of her life for his past. He has grown from it.” He looks away, and I shake my head, my body shaking from my fury.
“You don’t even know my mom or dad, or even Quinn. I know you had a run-in with Posey, but she was drunk when she tried to sleep with you, and we all make mistakes. She isn’t that person now. She is a loving wife and mother.” I can see that he is shaking too, but I don’t give two fucks. “And as for Shelli… Listen, I get it. I know she hurt you, but that was your choice, not hers. She was honest from the jump. She told you she didn’t want anything more than sex—”
“Ha! It’s my fault she hurt me. That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not,” I say simply. “We are in control of our emotions. And sure, when we want something or someone, we want to fight for them. But if they tell you repeatedly that they don’t want anything more than what they’re offering, then I don’t know what you were expecting. I heard her tell you that, and I watched you not accept it. Over and over again. To the point that I know your best friend even told you to move on. I know that’s why you didn’t let us stay with you—though you say it was because of Callie. I know that’s why you’ve always been kind of shitty to us. But it’s not our fault.”
“Whatever. That’s in the past—”