Zach leans against the alcove wall, his hands clasped together as if in prayer.
I mouth to him,I love you.
His mouth forms the words,Stick your landing.
I block out everything around me, limiting my vision to no further than each end of the beam. I don’t notice the pin-drop silence in the gym, instead focusing on my own voice in my mind as I complete leaps, jumps, flips, and twists, working my way up the beam, then back down it again.
I grin when I land my last flip, readying myself for dismount. Perfection is impossible in this sport, but we strive for it every time we perform. This routine has been pretty damn good. A couple of balance checks, and one missed connection between elements when I paused to gather myself before doing the next flip.
More important than my execution, I’m having fun despite the pressure of this moment. It’s something I haven’t experienced inyears.
Cheers break out after I complete a Gainer—a cartwheel into two twists off the beam—my feet sticking to the mat. Zach cheers from the alcove, hooting and clapping loudly, my personal cheer squad. The best one I could ask for.
I turn toward Veronica and Coach Miller; both have wide smiles on their faces.
“Bars next?” I ask.
Every routine that follows goes the same. Mistakes happen, but nothing devastating. On bars, I seamlessly complete a connection from the high to low bar that I’d failed nine out of ten times a month ago. I perform a riskier vault, betting on my training to complete it. The risk paid off, earning me a thumbs-up from Veronica and a cool nod from Coach Miller. Every time I stick a landing, happiness rushes through me because I’m that much closer to my dream.
When my floor music cuts off—my last event—it almost doesn’t matter what Coach Miller says. I’ve fought hard to reach a healthier mental state, clawed my way back into gymnastics, and learned to trust my judgment. Based on the cheers coming from Zach in the alcove and the broad smile on Veronica’s face, I know I’ve made them proud too.
37
Finley
It isn’t until CoachMiller and Veronica walk toward the exit that I see an unexpected figure standing in the corner. I glance toward Zach, needing him to confirm my brother stands here when he should be at practice. Zach nods toward Matt, and he mouths,You got this.
I heave a sigh, trying to calm my heart, still racing with adrenaline. Not only from the routines I performed but from the news that Coach Miller would like me to join UPC’s gymnastics team. I keep repeating his words in my mind, hoping that they’ll sink in, that I’ll accept the incredible accomplishment and be able to celebrate it.
“Hi.” I approach Matt with slow, tentative steps. “What are you doing here?”
“Someone told me this is an important day for you,” he says, glancing toward the alcove.
I nod. “It determines the future of my gymnastics career… so yeah, kinda a big deal.”
“How did it go?” Matt asks. “I mean, with the coach. I watched the routines—you killed it.”
“You watched? What about practice?”
He shrugs. “I want to support you. You’ve been a part of so many of my important moments, and I’ve missed out on most of yours. It’s why I agreed to let you live with me.”
A breath stutters out of me at his admission. Matt and I never talked about me coming to live with him. My parents arranged it, so I never knew how much he chose versus my presence being pushed onto him. Matt was the obvious choice—the brother with a house, a wife, his life completely under control. If I was going to go anywhere, it would be to live with him. But I didn’t know if he welcomed the intrusion.
He looks down at his shoes. “I should’ve told you that, but… you know, it seems stupid to say since you’re my sister… but we don’t know each other well. I wanted to give you a safe place to live as you move forward. I thought I was doing that—”
“You did, Matt. You’re the reason I got to build a life, but when I made choices you didn’t agree with you, it was like dealing with Mom and Dad all over again.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I can’t keep living my life for other people. I can’t stop living because it’s less for you and Mom and Dad to worry about.”
“Finley, I know.” Matt holds up a hand. “I know.” He runs his hand through his hair, mussing the blond strands. “I’ve talked to Mom and Dad, and I had a session with Dr. Warren.”
“What?” I say. “You did?”
“I’ve carried around so much guilt for what happened with Garrett.”
“Matt, it wasn’t your fault.”
He waves a hand. “It was. Iblamemyself for it. It’s caused me to be overbearing at times.”
I snort. “At times?”
