He studies my face as I realize, my fight isn’t with him.
It’s my dad’s fight with my mother. It’s the barely hushed conversations they had about using savings for traveling to races. It’s the times she’d mumble,“You need another new pair of shoes? Why can’t you wear your sneakers on the bike? Wouldn’t that save you time in the transitions anyway?”It’s all the ways she made it harder for my dad to follow his passion.
And then he got sick.
After he died she ran.
Ran is an ironic word to use. She hated running. She hated everything it represented. I think she hated how much my dad loved it.
How much I loved it.
"Laney?"
Post-race blues strike again because when I blink up at Miguel I realize tears are falling down my cheeks. His deep brown eyes are warm and inviting and I can’t stand the way they’re looking at me right now. Like I’m someone who needs a hug.
And I do, but I don’t want him to know I do.
I want to be the strong, perfect Princess he had in his bed last night.
The woman who is determined and accepts help because of her strength.
Not the weak little girl who is helpless to get what she wants.
This summer was supposed to be about doing everything I can to make my dad proud. To fulfill his wish for me in the timeline he set.
Instead I’ve gone and fallen for my coach and gotten completely swept up in being with him.
Except, I’m not just with him am I? He’s coaching me, coming up with training plans, making me fucking food, taking me out to see my favorite ice dancer!
I have taken so much from Miguel. I’ve practically used him.
I don’t deserve him and his support. What have I given him in return?
"I’ll pay you back." I say as I sniff back my tears and shuffle stiffly out into the room.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Miguel follows.
"I’ve been so selfish. I’m sorry, I’m just seeing it now. You’re literally giving me like half of your time and I promise as soon as I get a sponsor I’ll pay you back." I force my arms and head intoa shirt, trying to minimize the strain on my back muscles, then I sit on my side of the bed and slide into a pair of shorts.
"Where did you get the idea I wanted to be paid back? I feel like I’m missing something here, Laney."
"I’m using your expertise, your skills. I’m taking so much from you."
"Can’t you see how much you giveme?" Miguel yells and I turn to face him. His chest is rising and falling and that fucking lion tattoo on his thigh peaks out of the towel. "Christ Laney, my stats, my recovery, my fucking mental health, everything is better because of you!"
His words are kind but he’s yelling them.
The delivery confuses me and I hate that I’ve made him upset. If my post race body would let me, I’d crawl to him now just to make him feel better.
I don’t have to though, because Miguel takes tentative steps towards me.
"You’ve given me purpose, Laney." His voice is gentle, measured. "You’ve inspired me to stay in the sport. To push myself further. You’ve reminded me how much I love the entire world of endurance sports."
Miguel’s fingers brush along my cheek.
"Laney, I might just love you."
His whispered words wrap around me.
