“Got it.”Eli's hands were competent as he pulled one layer of sheet over Tyler's skin and then placed the gel packs on Tyler's back, left hip, and butt cheek.Tyler felt Eli's fingers slip under his knee, with the stretch of the chilled elastic webbing, and then the cold against his leg.He almost groaned with the relief.
“Better?”Eli's voice was low and soft.
“God, yes.Wonderful.Thank you.”
“Do you even count the ibuprofen any more before you take them?”
Tyler frowned against the bed.“Yes, Mother, I keep track.”
Eli smacked Tyler's right ass-cheek, hard enough to make him jump, and then replaced the ice packs onto the bad spots on Tyler's back with unerring precision.“Liar.Try to remember to take those off before your skin freezes.”
“Mmph.”Tyler meant to say something real.He had the feeling something important had escaped him in that conversation, and he should pursue it.But the ice was wonderful and every muscle in his body finally stopped twitching and began to relax.He let it all go and closed his eyes.
When he woke he knew it was hours later.The world outside his blinds held the quiet of midnight.The ice-packs on his skin had melted, and he brushed them aside and rolled over.He was still sore, but the meds had kicked in and what he really needed was to pee.He got up, stuffed all the packs into the Tupperware to stick back in the freezer, and headed for the bathroom.
Staring in the mirror after he'd finished, he noticed his hair was getting a little long.He really needed to cut it, but he was oddly superstitious about changing anything this close to a major competition.The dark-honey strands were halfway down his forehead, but still an inch from being in his way when he tumbled.
He brushed his hair back impatiently, staring into his own eyes.Was this the face of an Olympian?He wasn't ugly, despite his lightly freckled skin and the round face that he'd given up hoping would become more defined as he matured.Even in his teens, before he'd had this body, girls had seemed not to mind what they saw.So what did Eli see?
No.That wasn't what he was thinking about.What about the sponsors and the fans?If he got a gold, better yet if they got ateamgold, advertisers would be coming to him.Finally, the money might start coming in faster than it went out for training costs and meet fees and travel.He remembered his mother pinching his cheek and telling him she would buy a whole case of Wheaties when the box with his face came out.
When had that been?When he was seventeen, he thought, after he'd battled back from the spine rehab to compete at the elite level.When she'd finally stopped fretting and believed that he was healthy again and still had a shot at their dream.His chest ached.An icy stretch of road and a washed-out guardrail had kept her from ever seeing that Wheaties box, but he was finally making it happen.
He leaned toward the mirror.“Tyler Bannichek, Olympic medalist.”The title sounded damned good.He was almost there, and though Mom was gone, Eli would see him standing under that American flag with the anthem playing.Nothing was going to stop him.
Tyler left the bathroom and bumped into Eli coming out of his own room.The collision sent his tub of ice packs tumbling.He bent down carelessly to retrieve it, and felt thatcatchof pain shoot from his back, down his thigh, and into his groin.Fuck!For just a second, he froze as the world swam with pain, and then he straightened.He was sure he hadn't made a sound, hadn't let any sign cross his face, but Eli's eyes had gone dark in the dim hallway, and he shook his head slightly as he reached for the bathroom door.
That damned sanctimonious headshake.Tyler grabbed Eli's wrist.“What?Just say it!”
Eli looked at him steadily.“I've had my say.Didn't change anything, did it?”He twisted his arm free and disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Then the important thing Tyler had meant to discuss earlier floated to the top of his brain—Eli saying he was still moving out.Tyler had thought they were past that, that Eli had given up that stupid idea.He hadn't said anything about it all week.Although I've barely seen him all week.
He stayed in the hallway, waiting for Eli to emerge, until he heard the shower go on.Damn.Eli took long showers, especially when he was mad about something.Tyler couldn't pretend to be casually hanging around the hallway for half an hour.Reluctantly, he fetched fresh ice from the freezer and headed back to his room, vowing to bring the topic up next time.
Chapter 2 - Tyler
Tyler,Stephen,andCorwinwere cross-tumbling, taking turns throwing their floor passes diagonally, when it happened.Tyler set up for his round-off, handspring, full-in double pike like usual.But as he snapped into a clean pike position, legs straight and body jackknifed, he felt thatcatchin his back, sharper than it had been in years.The floor was rushing up at him and he couldn't get his left leg down, and he almost panicked.The landing was a sprawled mess.
Tyler lay on the floor, frozen in place.Pain flared like a knife, so sharp he wanted to puke, but the numbness was worse.He was locked there, left leg tingling and immobile from left buttock to toe.Even his right leg felt odd.Panic fluttered in his chest as he tried to breathe.You've done it this time, wrecked your spine.His heart pounded like it wanted to beat its way out of his chest.
“Bannichek!What the fuck do you call that?”the coach bellowed.
Tyler swallowed hard and rolled over.He almost puked again out of sheer relief when his left leg moved underneath him.He wasn't paralyzed.He hadn't put himself in a wheelchair.He closed his eyes, ignoring the little voice in his head saying “This time”in Eli's voice.“Sorry coach!”His words came out hoarse and he swallowed again.“Slipped on the take-off.”
“Well don't fucking do it again.You took a year off my life there.You need to see the trainer?”
Tyler tentatively hauled himself upright and took a step.His left leg was still oddly numb, the floor more pressure than sensation under his bare foot.But it would hold his weight and the pain was only pain.Everyone on the team had that.Bad knees and ankles, repetitive motion wrist injuries and inflamed tendons, it was all part of the game.He took another couple of steps and decided he wasn't about to fall over.“No coach, I'm good.”
“Well, walk it off and then get your ass back here and do that pass right.I want enough height for me to walk underneath you in that second rotation.You hear me?”
“Yes, coach.”Tyler stepped off the floor onto the tumble strip, bouncing on his toes.Sensation was coming back.He could still detect a little one-sidedness to his jumps as the left leg gave slightly.But each bounce was better.His back hurt like hell, but he'd already maxed out his ibuprofen for the morning so his back would just have to lump it until noon.He did a couple of rebounds, and then threw a basichandspring, handspring, whippass down the strip.A nagging voice in his brain asked why the fuck he decided to do a whip, when he'd just jerked his back around big-time.Another thing to ignore.It was fine.He was fine.Tyler made his way back to the corner of the floor to wait for his turn to redo that double pike.
By seven p.m., he just wanted to go home.He could barely move.He thought nothing could possibly break through his fatigue, but the lurch of adrenaline when Coach Andre grabbed his arm outside the locker room proved him wrong.
“Bannichek, in my office.”
Tyler stood in front of the desk as the coach sat heavily in his chair and then held Tyler’s gaze for a long silent moment.Tyler shifted from one foot to the other.There was no reason he should feel guilty, like a kid brought up in front of the principal.He tried to seem relaxed.
