Page 96 of Where We Belong

“I can’t! I told you I can’t.” Getting back to training after six weeks off and trying to win a competition two months away would be pure stupidity. I’m not delusional like he is. This injury means the end.

“Yes you can,” he says, his face so close I can see all the different shades of green in his irises. “You’re just going to fight for it.”

A ball of lead drops into my stomach. I glance up at the familiar wooden slats as I try to catch my breath and control my emotions. Why is it that everything I try to undertake becomes an Everest? Just as I was getting over an injury, another one hits. When I move away from the place that inspired all my nightmares, it feels like I’ve abandoned the only person who’s ever loved me. When I get all my sponsors back, I have to lose them all over again and figure out how I’ll continue paying for my ever-growing stack of bills.

I exhale shakily, like the weight of the world has fallen onto my back and I cannot straighten up anymore. “I’ve been fighting my entire life, Finn. I’m sotiredof fighting.” My voice catches on the last word, and all the hardness in him disappears before he wraps me in his arms, the touch familiar and warm and safe.

“I know you are. Fuck, I know.” He kisses the top of my head, then grasps my cheeks and tilts my head so I’m looking at him. “But it still isn’t a reason to quit. You need to get back and do it because you deserve every fucking good thing that’s going to happen to you, and that’s one of them.” His thumbs caress my cheekbones, a move so soft it makes my eyelids flutter. “You’ll win, and you’ll throw it in the face of all the fuckers who didn’t believe in you.Ibelieve in you, and you’ll believe in yourself, and that’s all that matters.”

I let my eyes fall closed, absorbing his words. He’s right. I’m right too, but his point is better. I can’t give up without at least trying. The clock hasn’t run out of time yet. There’s hope, even if it’s small and rumpled. And yes, my life might’ve been filled with Everest after Everest, but I climbed all of those damn mountains. I made it to the other side every single time. Winded and halfway dead, maybe, but I still made it.

Finn drags his hands down my arms before taking my hands in his and pulling them to his mouth. His breath is warm on my skin and sends goosebumps all over me. He kisses my knuckles with all the tenderness in the world, then says, “My girl’s not quitting. You’ve fucking got this. Yeah?”

I let my forehead drop to his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I got this.”

Chapter 35

Finn

“Comeon,fivemore,”I say as I clap my hands. I never thought I’d become a sports coach one day, but here I am. Thankfully, all the men who trained me while I played hockey taught me well.

“I can’t,” Lexie grunts, letting her body fall like a rag doll over the yoga mat I placed in the center of my living room. “I think I’ll die if I do one more.”

“Such a drama queen,” I say, poking her thigh with my toe.

Her eyes narrow. “Try doing five sets of twenty reps of weighted squats with a half-broken foot and let me know how it feels.”

“The magic word here is ‘half-broken.’”

What can I say? Riling Lexie up is still one of my favorite pastimes.

It’s been three weeks since she decided she wouldn’t give up on the sport she loves, and because of her keenness to get back at it as soon as possible, her doctor agreed to some weight-bearing earlier than was originally planned, so long as she respected certain limits and waited a few more weeks before getting back to high-impact training. She’s even started coaching again, something I know she missed when she was away, even for a few days.

“Have you always been this much of an asshole?” she says from the ground, sweat plastering fine hairs to her forehead.

I smirk. “Have you always been this bratty?”

She sends me another murderous glance, and in a beat, she pounces, pulling at one of my ankles so I trip backwards and fall onto the couch.

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, and murderous on top of it!”

This time, she joins me in my laughter, but too soon, her smile disappears, replaced by a groan. “Ugh, I hate this.” The meat of her palms digs into her eyes. “It feels like being a pro musician, only to start doing scales again.”

I let an arm fall off the couch so one of my fingers can rub her arm up and down. It’s something I haven’t been able to stop doing for the past two months: touching her. It’s like as soon as she’s in my vicinity, she’s a magnet and I’m a weak sheet of metal. Most of the time I don’t even realize I’m doing it until she looks up at me and smiles. And what a goddamn smile it is.

That need to be close has even intensified after her injury. When I stepped into the gym that night, it was because she hadn’t answered a couple of my texts, and even though that wouldn’t be unusual if she was training, I had this feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right. And when I saw her lying there… My heart stopped. Simple as that. She was still as a rock, and for a moment, I thought maybe she wasn’t there anymore. Anything can happen with gymnastics. I’ve known that since I was a little boy and my mom talked about a new injured athlete every single week. The image of her lying motionless is one that still haunts my nightmares sometimes, and it’s something I never want to experience again. I swear it gave me at least a dozen gray hairs.

A part of me wanted to protect her after that, tuck her into a bubble-wrap-lined box and keep her there, safe next to me, but that would’ve been selfish. I meant it when I said I wanted her to make her dream come true, even if seeing her on vault will probably send me into cardiac arrest. I’ll encourage her to do all the dangerous shit she needs to, but no one can blame me for touching her every chance I get, maybe only to remind myself that she’s there, that she’s fine. We might not be a couple, but every day I spend by her side is a reminder that she means more to me than she’ll ever know. I’m waiting for the right moment to tell her—if I ever get the guts to do so—but with the injury, that was the last thing on both our minds. We’ve barely even kissed since then. It’s been all about her recovery and maintaining her fitness, which was a struggle with an unusable foot, but we made do.

“You’ll get back to where you were in no time,” I say. “Give yourself a chance.”

She scratches at the irritated patch of skin on her hand, and I gently pull her hand away. Sometimes, she’ll get lost in her anxieties so much that she’ll make herself bleed. This time, though, she takes the opportunity of my available hand and drags me off the couch and onto her. I brace myself just in time not to squash her under my weight.

“Jesus, Crabby. You really are an animal tonight.” Even so, I can’t pretend I don’t swell painfully in my jeans. She has that kind of effect on me.

She smirks as her fingernails scratch softly at my head. “You mind?”

“Not one bit.” My gaze dips to her lips, and before I can try to stop myself and let her get back to business, she pulls me down, and I give in.

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