For a moment, I forgot about Trials. About times and rankings and futures that were unknown.
There was only Roxie.
Eventually, she pulled back, breathless, forehead resting against mine. “Is this your new way of shutting me up?”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “No. But now that you mention it, I think it has potential.”
She slapped my chest again, lighter this time. “You still didn’t answer any of my questions.”
“That’s because I don’t know how to answer them,”I said honestly. The truth tasted bitter on my tongue. “I can’t afford to lose my edge. Not now.”
She probably didn’t realize that her question hit deeper than anything she’d thrown at me all night.
I exhaled slowly, hoping I could explain this. “I think …” My voice caught, and I forced myself to keep going. “I think I’ve spent my whole life believing that anything I want too much can be taken away. And I don’t know how to chase you and still be the swimmer I need to be.”
Her features softened. Her hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheek like she was anchoring me.
“Ledger,” she said gently, “you don’t have to choose right now.”
That should have comforted me. But instead, it scared me even more.
Because wanting her wasn’t making me weaker.
It was making me clearer.
And clarity, I was starting to realize, wasn’t the same thing as control.
She stepped back first this time, creating space between us, even though I could still feel her warmth lingering on my skin.
“We should sleep,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” I agreed, even though every part of me resisted it.
We climbed back into our separate beds, the distance between us louder than before. I stared at the ceiling, heart still racing, replaying everything I hadn’t said.
That night, sleep came in restless waves.
And somewhere between waking and dreaming, the truth finally settled into a coherent thought:
Playing it safe emotionally wasn’t protecting me.
It was costing me clarity.
And if I didn’t figure out how to stop running scared—of failure, of the future, of wanting something that mattered—I was going to lose more than just a race.
CHAPTER 23
ROXIE
There was something electric about the air inside the pool deck, like the whole building was holding its breath.
The smell of chlorine was strong and recognizable, the echo of voices bouncing off the walls layered with the sharp whistles of officials and the rhythmic splash of swimmers warming up. Banners hung from the walls, proud and unforgiving, each one a reminder of how narrow the margin was between history and heartbreak.
US National Championships.
Ledger stood on deck with his cap pulled low, goggles resting on top of his head, wearing his navy-blue tech swim jammers, his shoulders loose but ready. Even from the stands, I could see it. The way he shifted his weight, the way his fingers flexed like he was counting down inside his own body.
I could still remember how those fingers had felt as they’d skimmed against my collarbone last night. Andthe way his voice had sounded when he’d said he didn’t want to be my friend.
