I let my head rest on the top of hers, and I turn slightly to kiss her through her hair. I leave my lips on her, and I let my eyes fall closed so I can breathe her in. My elixir—a potion to keep my heart calm and my head clear.
“I love you, Maddy,” I say, the words barely audible. I’m sure she didn’t hear them, but her hand squeezes mine the tiniest bit, and I pretend that she did, and that’s her way of saying it back.
This plane ride won’t be the end of me—of us. It can’t, because God wouldn’t be that cruel. I deserve this, and damned if I don’t want it all.
Chapter Sixteen
Maddy
My dad did not understand. When I told him I had to fly to Cleveland to help Will, he called me careless. I coaxed him into trusting me, promised him I’d be faster than I was when I left, making light jokes that he did not find amusing. He now expects that speed, and he is not being kind in front of others.
In front of Will.
My dad told me when I rolled in from our trip late Saturday that I better be prepared to work this morning. He didn’t call Will, but when we got to the pool, Will was already deep into his warm-up laps. He puts in the work, and he deserves a fair shot at this.
“Again,” my dad shouts, his feet straddling the training weights I anticipate he’s going to make me tread with as punishment.
He hasn’t called any of this punishment, but it’s clear that’s just what it is. If he knew the whole story—that I didn’t just run off because of some new infatuation with Will Hollister, if he knew what Will was busy doing, what kind of man Will was—he wouldn’t be barking at me now. The double-standard amuses me while I paddle back to the far wall to take my turns again—to do them faster. All my parents wanted was for me to give Will a pass and not blame him for my pain. That’s all they wanted until I started to fall for him and get too close. The fact that they can’t trust me, trust that he is still the same boy—man—that my father always admired in the pool, is beyond hypocritical.
I use my anger, pounding my hands through the water three lanes over from the man who has awoken my barely beating heart. I fly toward the wall. I twist and push, and I fly back to where I came from. I’m turning faster than I ever have, and I know it, yet all my dad can do is shout out disappointments.
“Congratulations, and the swimmer from Iowa State just broke your record,” my dad deadpans. I match his stare, but he’s unfazed and quickly turns to Will. I follow his gaze to see Will breathing hard, holding onto the wall, waiting to take his harsh criticism. “That was good Will. Keep doing that.”
My dad tosses a heavy binder on the ground a few feet away and starts walking.
“Maddy, weights.”
Not even a full sentence as he rounds the pool and heads inside. I watch through the window as he grabs a bottle of water and turns toward the stairs.
“I thought you said he was okay with you coming to Cleveland,” Will says, dipping under two sets of ropes and popping up in my lane.
“I may have overestimated on the okay part,” I say.
Will looks at me and his eyes droop with a short exhale. I don’t want to stick around for him to say he’s sorry, because I don’t want him to be sorry. I can take my dad’s grouchiness. He’s not really mad, he just doesn’t like me not being his showgirl twenty-four-seven. I get that the idea of him coaching me, of having this family swimming legacy perform well on an Olympic stage, is a big deal to him. He’s built it up, and so have I. It’s just since Will arrived, other things have started to matter, too. My heart woke up, and I’m not putting it down again.
I strap the weights on my ankles one at a time, then place the others on my wrists as Will does the same and we both tread to the center of the pool and work to hold our heads above the surface for several minutes at a time.
“Your mom okay with the fact that you missed camp? Like, for real okay?” Will grunts out his question, his arms and legs circling in the water.
“I haven’t really seen her. She’s been so busy campaigning to save the damned lakeside park,” I shrug, dipping down under water to rest my legs. I push up from the bottom and begin to work again.
“She’s a fighter,” Will says, his lips puckering into a tight smile as he stares at me.
“What’s that look for?” I ask.
His head wiggles from one side to the other.
“It’s just that I can tell where you get it from—your refusal to give up on anything you want,” he says.
“Oh yeah?” I tease, suddenly feeling like I could swim like this for hours, carry these weights for miles, and still win. Flirting with Will Hollister does things to my body.
“Oh yeah,” he grins.
I laugh at the deeper voice he puts on, but we both stop smiling at the sound of the main door shutting behind our backs.