My body is wet, soapy, and inches from him but his touch isn’t sexual.
It’s intimate.
And nurturing.
"Thank you." I whisper and his eyes leave my hair and meet mine.
"For what?"
"This." I place my hands on his chest. His heart hammers below my palm. "For all the training, for the meal prep, and for having my best interests in mind."
He swallows as his hands swipe down my hair to bracket my waist. "You’re welcome, Laney."
"I ran a good race today." I say, the realization of what I accomplished actually setting in.
"You ran an outstanding race today." Miguel says as he rinses out the conditioner and finger combs my hair.
"Sponsors have got to want me. Like right? They can’t ignore a result like that."
Miguel is quiet as he pumps some body wash into his hands. He rubs them together and he turns me away from him. His firm touch soothes my overtired muscles along my shoulders, back, ass, and legs. Goosebumps erupt under the warm feel of his hands and I’m ready to curl up beside him and rest.
"The right sponsor will find you." He finally says.
"Soon. The right sponsor will find me soon." I say as he turns my body to rinse. He keeps me under the water and reaches out for a towel.
We switch places and he wraps me up and then I wait, leaning against the counter while he washes himself quickly.
"Why are you in such a rush?" He asks as he wraps a towel around his waist and turns off the water.
Dad’s deadline is looming and I don’t trust myself to continue if I miss it. I can’t stand the idea of letting him down again. Of having wasted these last three years for nothing.
I turn away from Miguel and stare into the hotel room sink, not daring to check for his eyes in the mirror.
"I want to be good enough." I whisper the words I’ve never said out loud before.
"Good enough for who?" Miguel asks and I feel him start to section my hair into threes for a braid.
"For everyone." I shrug.
"You’re better than everyone. If you had your pro card and ran with the elites, you would have finished first overall today. Dee was there to cheer you on. I was there to cheer you on."
"Yeah but I’m putting all this time into training and it’s not paying off!" My frustration rises and my mother’s frustration over race costs and training hours echoes in my head.
Dad was always gone for long runs on nights and weekends. And while he rarely took work off for races or training, he did spend a lot of time away from her. She was left with the chores, and the homework help, and the responsibilities.
And then I went and tried to be just like my dad, the Olympic silver medalist.
"It is absolutely paying off. You did the fucking impossible today." Miguel turns me and holds my shoulders. The look in his eyes is fiery like he wants to either shake the sense into me or kiss me until we’re both senseless. "Laney, baby, you caught the group ahead of you. That doesn’t happen. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it happen."
"So why isn’t anyone calling to sponsor me!"
"Honestly? They’re probably trying to figure out where the hell you came from. They’re probably reviewing race footage of you today. They’re probably putting together offers." His fingers release me and he steps back. "I still don’t understand why it’s so important to get a sponsorship."
"It makes me legitimate, alright?" I raise my voice at him. "It proves I’m good enough. It proves racing is worth it."
The words fall from my lips and I freeze.
Miguel’s face is fractured with the pain I’m throwing at him.
