I hated that something outside the pool had that much power.
It was stupid. She’d agreed. End of story.
And yet, the longer the screen stayed dark, the more aware I became of how much I wanted to see her name light it up. Not because I needed reassurance—at least, that’s what I told myself—but because the idea of walking out onto that deck and not knowing where she was made me feel off. Unbalanced.
So I couldn’t blame the nerves on racing.
Which should’ve been the first clue that something was wrong with me.
“Earth to Ledger.”
Ridge bumped my shoulder with his elbow as he walked past, goggles dangling from his fingers. “You planning on joining us today, or are you already swimming in your head?”
I snorted and zipped my bag. “Please. I don’t need to visualize a thing.”
Ridge arched a brow. “That so? Because you’ve been staring at that phone like it owes you money.”
I flipped it over and slid it into my bag. “Just making sure I’m not late.”
“For the meet that starts in twenty minutes?”
“Time management is important.”
Ridge laughed and shook his head. “Whatever you say, married man.”
There it was.
Married man.
The words still sounded strange, like they belongedto someone else, someone more balanced, someone who hadn’t felt his entire future wobble on a knife’s edge not that long ago. Someone who hadn’t sat across from a sponsor and realized how quickly years of work could be reduced to a checkbox.
But a new sponsorship was in place. The meetings were over, the threats gone, and facility access restored like it had never been almost taken in the first place. Coach Saunders had clapped me on the shoulder like she’d known all along this would work out, even though we’d both known how close I’d come to losing everything. On paper, everything was back where it belonged.
That was the part that scared me.
Because I’d learned how fastback where it belongedcould disappear.
Which meant I should’ve felt like myself again.
And I mostly did.
It’s just that after almost drowning the last couple of weeks—after realizing how quickly the floor could drop out from under me if the money disappeared—it felt too good to be true. But I felt better. Lighter. Like I wasn’t constantly bracing for impact.
Not fixed. Not whole. But steadier.
The difference showed up in small ways. I’d started joking around with the guys again instead of keeping my head down. Talon gave me a hard time about my turns, Ridge complained about his starts, and for the first time in weeks, the banter didn’t feel forced or hollow. It felt earned. Normal. I was hitting my time goals again in practice. Nothing flashy, just consistent improvements,fractions shaved where they mattered. My body was responding instead of fighting me, laps stacking without the constant weight on me.
The dark storm cloud that had followed me everywhere, the one whispering that my world was ending, that I was one bad day away from losing everything, had finally thinned. Not gone, but distant enough that I could breathe. I wasn’t naïve enough to think everything was magically fixed, but I wasn’t drowning anymore either. I could see past the next twenty-four hours.
And that felt like progress.
Coach Saunders’s whistle cut through the locker room, sharp and commanding. “Deck in five!”
Talon leaned against the lockers near her, arms crossed, that easy grin in place that said he loved this side of things just as much as racing. Helping Coach Saunders suited him. He caught my eye and gave me a nod that was equal parts pride and challenge.
“You ready to show them what breaststroke is supposed to look like?” he asked.
I smirked. “Always.”
