Execution (Off Balance 2)

"Adrianna—"

"I'm just stupid and naive, I guess. I don't want to talk about it anymore," I said, softly shutting my locker. I finally looked at him and let him see the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. "I have to go."

Much to my surprise, I'd never seen him look so upset and so guilty and full of shame all at once. His eyes scanned my face, my mouth, my eyes, they were everywhere.

Shaking my head, I stepped around him and walked toward the door. Right before I stepped out of the room, Kova's broken whispers in Russian caught my ears. I glanced over my shoulder and watched as his fist flew into a locker, twice. I quickly stepped out but peaked through the small doorjamb opening and watched.

Kova turned around and leaned against the lockers. His head fell back and he stared at the ceiling. His face was rigid, his jaw grated together. A sharp pain shot through my chest. I felt everything he exposed when he thought no one was watching. Everything. It took strength not to walk back in there and talk to him.

I shot a quick glance at his reddened knuckles. The skin had broken and blood dripped onto the floor as he clenched his fist.

I could be a lot of things when I needed to, but I refused to console him about his impending marriage.

Chapter Fifty-Two

I hadn't slept more than ten hours all weekend due to the hectic schedule of the competition and flying back and forth. In truth, I couldn't afford to rest. Or to think about what Kova had said to Ethan, and how I'd left him in the locker room. I hadn't let myself. I had a one-track mind all weekend and it stayed that way. Even driving back to Palm Beach, I refused to let myself think about it. It hurt too much.

The clock was ticking. Each meet that I placed in the top three brought me one step closer to the Olympics. First place was always the goal. Despite second place being the first place loser, I was still happy with it. Silver still put me on the grid. I was competing against gymnasts with no injuries, and much younger. The odds were unquestionably against me, but my drive and determination exceeded theirs and it showed in my performance.

This past meet, the Secret U.S. Classic, I had placed first in vault and bars, and second in floor. I had walked away with two gold medals and one silver. It was a tight squeeze for beam and I was close to getting bronze, but I didn't. Still, I was golden and feeling confident.

Monday came fast and hard. Crawling out of bed these mornings had been a task in itself. Even now I was dead tired and it was midafternoon. Three days of straight practice, two blading sessions—one late Sunday night when we got home, one before I left—and then I was free for an entire week. That had been my goal and focus and what helped me stay motivated.

The blading… Man. What a difference it'd made. Even more, the deep tissue massage. I couldn't believe it, but Dr. Hart had been right. I felt like a new person with a little pep in my step and when competition time came, I had a whole new body. It was remarkable to be pain free while defying gravity. I insisted Kova fit them in my schedule. I told him if my coach couldn't help me and make it work, I'd go to a physical therapist.

He gave me that infamous glare upon my demand.

I got what I wanted.

I couldn't help but wonder how I would’ve fared if I'd had them sooner.

"Bez truda, ne vitashish i rubku iz pruda." Kova had said to me in Russian at the meet. "No pain, no gain."

I hated that saying, and when I had told him so, as well as reminded him I was not in pain, he had just shrugged his shoulders, indifferent. "Not physically, but your pride is," he had replied.

I hated that he was right. He'd asked me how I was doing, and I gave him a generic answer. It was how we maintained our relationship the entire weekend—a question with a basic response. Though, when I stuck a landing or received the most points allowed in my routine, we both grinned from ear to ear and threw around hugs like they were free.

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But nothing was free. Everything came with a price.

After three hours of driving, I pulled into my family's estate, ready to spend the Easter holiday with them. We may reside on a swanky island, but our opulent home was a secret oasis of peace and quiet, and my body was craving that. I needed the rest badly, especially since this month would be extremely chaotic with upcoming championships. And championships were very important. If I didn't place then, I was basically screwed.

My stomach churned, and a sense of dread clouded me as I passed through the iron gates. Without the B12 injections and sheer force of willpower to keep going, I could collapse any minute, but there was an unsettling feeling in my gut and it kept me alert as I parked my truck.

Glancing around the lush, tropical paradise my parents built before I was born, nothing seemed out of place. I disengaged the keys and sat back in the silence of my tinted car and stared. Maybe I'd worked myself up for nothing. I did have a lot on my mind as it was. But the driveway was empty, void of both my parents’ cars.

It wasn't long until I was in my childhood home and unpacked and back downstairs looking for my mom and dad. I sent Avery a quick text to let her know I was here and to stop by, but she didn’t respond. I sent texts to both my parents, and they didn't respond either. With nothing to do but wait, I decided to lay down and rest my eyes.

* * *

"My, my, my, don't you look incredible." Mom's honeyed voice rang from behind me. I turned around and my eyes met her proud ones that gleamed in delight. It left me a little sickened. I'd always been thin, and right now I knew I was extremely skinny. Waiflike. She was too happy over my appearance, and it made me question how she had felt about me a year or so ago when I was only twelve pounds heavier. I almost wondered if she wanted me to look, or be, anorexic.

Brushing it off, I gave her a hug. "Hi, Mom."

"I'm so glad you could come home for a little while. Easter wouldn't be the same without you."

"Glad to be home."