Page 104 of You're the Reason

“Absolutely not! They want to make money off you. But your fans care and they keep talking online about how they hope you’ll return to regionals. You inspire them?—”

“But if they knew?—”

“If they knew everything, then you would inspire them more. You inspire the rest of us. Why do you think people were willing to go along with Jon’s charade with the furniture? That took no small amount of planning.”

“Jon’s well liked.”

“No, because you’re well liked. People here have been rooting for you your whole life. And your success inspires them. Let go of your past.”

“Even with my record expunged I just don’t know if I can be that open with the public.”

“Why? Don’t you think that God could use it? Your past doesn’t exempt you from a good future.” Nate settled into a chair and stretched his legs out. “For so long I let my own past be an anchor around my neck. I pushed Olivia away because I thought she deserved better. But what I came to realize is that by doing so I was slapping God’s hand away when He was trying to give me a gift.”

“You think Grace is a gift to me? I’m pretty sure that phone call says that gift is gone.”

“Maybe. But God is giving you other things.” He waved to the space around them indicating the gym in progress and then tapped the invitation again. “Don’t slap God’s hand away.”

Could he really believe that? He’d told Grace over and over that real love wasn’t based on performance, and yet that was exactly how he lived. With her. With the guys. With God.

Somehow, he’d convinced himself that God loved him less because of what he’d done, and he was earning his way back into favor. But that wasn’t what the Bible told him. And it wasn’t what he’d been preaching to Grace. What could he do about that now?

Tomorrow’s a new day with no mistakes. Great. First Grace, now his dad. Why were all these memories plaguing him every time he turned around today? Because just maybe it wasn’t the memories. Just maybe God was trying to get his attention.

Because God refused to give up on him. Because God’s love didn’t change. Because God wouldn’t fail him.

Seth lifted his phone and punched in Allen Mets’s number.

“Seth, tell me something good. We have a week until shooting, and we just lost one of the top-rated guys. Did a header off the Diamond Dash in practice. Separated shoulder. Please tell me you’re coming.”

“You got your wish. The Storm’s coming back.”

“And the interview?”

“Whatever you want.” It was time to embrace what God was giving him. Win or lose he needed to go all in, full tilt—no hesitation.

Nate clapped his hands, stood, and grabbed his phone. “I’m calling the guys.” Then he hesitated, lowering his phone. “Unless you don’t want anyone to know.”

“I want you all in my corner, if you’ll come.”

“We wouldn’t miss it.”

nineteen

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. For all his resistance to competing, Seth had never actually thought about the possibility of losing. He took an extra second under the water, letting it cool his face before standing and staring at the blue Chicago sky as he wiped the water away from his face. The sun was low, but the network had plenty of flood lights trained on his face, so everyone at home would have a good view of his humiliating fall.

Awesome.

He stared up at the red spinning cylinders above his head that had beaten him, then made his way to the edge of the splash pool. He offered the crowd a wave before making the awkward climb out over the side. As if falling hadn’t been humiliating enough.

A guy in a black T-shirt and headset handed him a towel then pointed him to where his friends stood next to a woman in a red dress holding a microphone. He ran the towel over his head a few times but before he could even exchange one word with Grant, Nate, or Jon, the microphone was shoved in his face.

“Up until the fall, your pace was a full ten seconds ahead of the top finisher tonight. We were heartbroken to see you fall.” The blonde was all smiles. Yeah, she looked real heartbroken. “Can you tell us what happened?”

He fell, that was what happened. But it wasn’t like he could say that. Instead, he forced a smile and leaned toward the mic. “I just missed my footing.”

“You faced the Log Runner in city qualifiers and had no difficulties. Can you tell us what was different today?”

Thanks for the reminder. He ran the towel over his head again to stall for time as he searched his mind for a response. Because what happened was that a certain blue-eyed ballerina had distracted him.

---