And just like that, all thoughts of Cole vanished, as concern for my father constricted my chest and overwhelmed me. I made it to the bathroom before I began dry heaving into the toilet, but there was nothing in my stomach to bring up.

  20

  Cole

  I watched Echo closely. My brain tried to separate my concern and emotion between coach and…whatever else we were. We still hadn't had any time to talk. Gramps was making himself a real nuisance, and gave us no time together alone. Boston was three weeks ago, and I was warned that pressing it would distract her. So we sat in limbo.

  Echo’s family couldn’t see her when it came to the qualifiers. They were relegated to the stands with everyone else. I was the only one allowed anywhere near her or her fellow competitors. And I preferred it that way. I’d had enough of Rory to last a lifetime.

  I milled about at the edge of things along with the other coaches, my eyes glued to Echo as she limbered up. There was something off about her movements, and that shit worried me. Something was going on with her. She always stretched each leg three times before doing fifteen toe touches. It was almost ritualistic. But I watched her stretch the right leg four times before she shook her head as though dazed, and then moved on to her toe touches. She only did thirteen of those.

  Something was on her mind. I wished she’d just talk to me. She kept closing her eyes, and I could make out her lips moving but had no idea what she was saying. It was clear that she knew how distracted she was, and was struggling to get herself back under control.

  I could only fidget where I stood. The competitors were lining up for the first heat in the 800-meter race. Echo had done respectably through the heats for the 400-meter race, placing just high enough to keep advancing. Much as I anticipated she would for the 1500-meter races later that day. But the 800-meter was the one where she should place at the top. Not just merely qualifying, but dominating. But she looked like she couldn’t get into the right headspace.

  I sighed and shook my head. I couldn’t do anything to help her now. That shit sucked. She needed to start talking to me, or we were both going to fail.

  The runners lined up and set their feet on the starting blocks, waiting for the signal. When the gun fired, I watched Echo’s toe catch the ground as she pushed off. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  It wasn’t enough to send her sprawling to the ground and out of the race, but it messed with her balance and put her behind by several crucial seconds. She had to fight hard to make up the distance on the first lap, but she managed to place just high enough to make it to the next round. As she ran, my heart hammered and my breathing accelerated, as if I were the one running. The adrenaline surge was the same. The anxiousness.

  The other coaches and I moved away from the sideline in a wave to greet our runners and congratulate or console them. Echo shook her head and rolled her eyes as I came over to her. She thought she knew what I was going to say.

  “It was a stupid… I can’t believe…” she sputtered as she fought to return her breathing to a normal rate. Tears glimmered in her eyes.

  I took her hand. “Come with me,” I said, and led her away from the officials and other runners. They had a few more groups to go before the next round would start.

  “I’ll do better in the next one,” Echo assured me. She sniffled deep. Hell. I hated to see her like this. She was killing herself, and couldn’t see how well she was doing.

  There was no one around. And I watched her for a moment.

  “Come. Cool down with me,” I said, before starting to jog down the path. I didn’t look back over my shoulder, but after a moment I heard the sound of her feet smacking the ground as she caught up to me and then slowed to match my easy pace. “Tell me what you see.”

  “What?”

  “What do you see?” There was a familiar twinge in my knee, but I pressed on at a snail’s pace to keep Echo from tiring.

  “Green. Grass, trees, bushes…” she said, breathing still labored.

  “And what do you hear? What do you smell?” I pressed.

  She sighed as we jogged along. “I hear…birds, I guess. Someone laughing. Kids, I think. And it smells…like sweat.”

  I laughed. “Okay, what else?”

  “Oh, I just got a whiff of hot dogs from one of those lunch carts. And now I’m getting hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry. I’ll buy you a hot dog as a treat when you’re through for the day,” I promised with a laugh. “How do you feel? Does anything hurt or…?”

  “I feel…better,” she said, gradually coming to a stop. “Thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t get out of my own head with everything going on.”

  I took her hand again, ignoring the spike of awareness. “Don’t think about the other runners or anything else,” I said. “If it starts to feel like too much, try to decide what color the track is, or what the difference is between overcast and partly cloudy. Get everything else out and run when the shot goes off. Fill your head with little things. It’s all that matters. The right now. Not yesterday, not tomorrow. Right here, you and me.”

  Echo gave me a small smile, and we turned around to make the short jog back. I stayed a few paces behind her so I could watch her and gauge whether or not the little diversion had worked.

  I knew from experience how easily the pressure could get to you when you had to wait and watch your competitors run their heats before your turn came up again. Standing at the starting line in that tense position just waiting for the officials to get themselves together, waiting on a knife’s edge for the sound that would trigger your reflexes to act, and praying that your reflexes were faster than the runner next to you. In the sprints especially, the start was everything. She had to stay calm, loose.

  There was a lighter air to her step as we approached the course where one of the subsequent heats was underway, and I prayed that those few minutes had been enough, that she wouldn’t slip back into whatever had distracted her enough to trip before the next heat. She couldn’t survive another slip like that. And while it was true that she had already qualified for one of the other races, the 800-meter was the one she actually wanted. And if she didn’t qualify for whatever reason, neither of us would hear the end of it from her grandfather, who still held a grudge about having been ignored in his recommendation that she race the marathon, or at the very least, the half.

  Rory was such a pain in the ass that I had to put in a request at our training facility that Rory be barred admittance to the areas where Echo was training. A request the facility had been reluctant to enforce. Two or three times at least last week, they allowed their security forces to be bypassed.

  They were too wary of losing his financial contributions to do more than make a show of explaining it was at Echo’s coach’s insistence that our training proceed uninterrupted. Eventually, I had given up and worked with one of the high schools downtown.

  We slipped back into the mass of competitors and coaches. With a quick squeeze of her hand, Echo headed off in the direction of the other runners, while I resumed my place along the edge of the competitive area.

  Echo was limbering up again, but there was less tension in her arms as she swung them about, or in her carriage as she did a few lunges. Her form was steady, and she was once more visibly in control of it.

  “What the hell happened?” a familiar voice grumbled from behind me.

  Motherfucker. How had he fucking made it down here? I forced my shoulders to relax, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath before turning my head slightly to glance at the older man from the corner of my eye.

  “Rory, it’s been taken care of,” I assured the older man. Though I knew from the frustrated tone of the older man’s voice that the issue wouldn’t be resolved so easily.

  “That’s not what I asked,” Rory bit out. “How the hell did she get such a slow start? This is supposed to be her best race, and she barely made it through her first heat.”

  “It’s difficult to see from where you’re seated,” I said, infusing my voice with a calm I didn’t feel. “But she tripped on the starting block. If this weren’t her best race, I don’t know that she’d have been able to recover at all. Now you’ll need to return to your seat, or you’ll risk security and the officials getting involved. I doubt I need to remind you how detrimental any allegations of interference can be.”

  I used enough authoritative words to give Rory Coulter pause. In truth, I doubted it would make much difference to anyone whether the Coulter patriarch stood at the fence bitching to his granddaughter’s coach about things neither of us had any control over. But the last thing I wanted was for the old man to pick up on my own nerves and badger me for the rest of the day.

  My bluff worked as Rory grumbled, “Full of shit…and just where did you head off to with her? If that’s allowed…” Nevertheless, he moved back beyond the fence.

  I sighed when I felt it safe to do so. If Echo came up short, I was fairly certain I’d be fired. Her parents would hire someone else for the next few months to take her through the Games themselves, Rory would make sure of that.

  While I wouldn’t miss the likes of Rory Coulter, the thought of not getting to work with Echo everyday sent an unexpected—and unwanted—slice of pain through my chest. We were a team now. No matter how we’d started. Whatever my abilities as a coach might be, I could only do my job effectively with runners who were talented and open enough to allow themselves to be guided. Looking around at the interactions between the nearby coaches and their runners, I was becoming aware of just how much I’d lucked out with Echo.

  At that moment, Echo’s next race was announced over the loudspeaker. I crossed my arms over my chest and paced anxiously, as she and the other runners lined up at the starting blocks. You can do this, Echo. Come on. The seconds seemed to drag on so long that even when the gun fired and the runners took off, Echo seemed to be moving too slow. But she wasn’t.

  My eyes followed her, as she easily took over the lead position in the heat. There were several feet between her and the next runner, then several yards. I uncrossed my arms and clenched my fists. As she rounded the last bend of her second lap on the track, the rest of the group still only halfway down the previous stretch, I started bouncing on the balls of my feet. It was becoming clear that she not only had the race, but had to be close to breaking the record.

  Though it wasn’t like me, I started to scream her name. My calls of “Holy shit, Echo, burn them,” probably went unheard. But I could hope that some of my energy reached her. Adrenaline spiked my blood.

  I had to wait until the results were officially announced before I could go to her. Those minutes felt like eons. All I wanted to do was hold her. When I was allowed on the track, I found her milling about, her competitors acknowledging her feat with congratulatory nods and handshakes, as they, too, bent at the waist and gasped to catch their breath.

  I ran up to her, but the moment I got close enough, I froze, too afraid that if I held her, everyone would see too much. See how I felt about her. So I held back. “You did good,” I told her simply, my grin insuppressible.

  She grinned back before the voice came over the loudspeaker to make another announcement. Echo had tied an Olympic qualifying record in the event, and was only four seconds shy of tying a world record for 800-meters.

  We stared at each other for one second, then another. And then Echo laughed and launched herself into my arms.

  I held her tight, spinning us both around, laughing with her. This was safe, right? We’d just smashed our goal. A hug was called for… Wasn’t it? Never mind that I never wanted to let her go. So I did what I’d been telling her to do. Closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Echo whispered earnestly, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, her forehead leaning against mine.

  We were so fucking close to kissing. And right now, it was all I wanted to do. I could already taste the salt of her sweat on my tongue. But it was more than just need pouring through my veins. I cared about her. I wanted a million more of these moments with her.

  “Now THAT’S more like it,” Rory Coulter shouted from the fence, as the officials permitted him and the rest of Echo’s family onto the track to celebrate with us.

  I set her feet back on the ground and loosened my hold on her waist, but she took a few extra seconds to step out of my embrace, her arms lingering around my neck. Like she didn’t want to let go.

  But then she was out of my arms, turning and smiling broadly to her family, finally engulfed by the small swarm of Coulters. Her grandfather gave her a well-deserved pat on the back, as Echo leaned in to her proud parents.

  Rory Coulter’s grin froze in place when his gaze landed on me. “Guess we don’t have to fire you after all,” he muttered. I just glowered at him, but he turned back to the celebrations and congratulations, effectively dismissing me.

  A pair of officials came over to the small family group and expressed their own congratulations for Echo and her accomplishment, before gently reminding them that they would need to return to their seats for the rest of the races.

  Echo was finished for the day. The rest of her events were scheduled for the following day, so her parents were pushing for a celebratory dinner out with just the family.

  “We’ll do a larger party later,” Julia said. “Once all your qualifiers are run and we know just how much we have to celebrate.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Echo objected politely. “A party like that…it’s a lot to plan, and you guys don’t need that kind of stress.”

  “Shut up, Echo,” Fox rolled his eyes. His hockey team was still in its off-season, so he was able to schedule his personal practices as he liked. “A party is always a good thing.”

  “You’ll just have to resign yourself to being the center of attention,” Dax agreed, high-fiving Fox behind his girlfriend, Asha’s, back. Asha just rolled her eyes and poked him in the ribs.

  “If she doesn’t want to talk about having a party to celebrate because she’s afraid that kind of planning will jinx the races she has tomorrow, then you should just shut up and go along with it,” Asha said. Judging by the puzzled expression on Echo’s face, I was willing to bet that the motivation Asha ascribed to Echo had missed the mark.

  While the Coulters were busy figuring out whether or not going to dinner would be lucky or unlucky, I gathered my things together and quietly slipped away, leaving Echo to enjoy the moment with her family.

  21

  Echo

  Maybe I should have thought this through. In truth, I had no idea what to say to Cole. But we hadn’t had any time to talk during day two of qualifiers, because my grandfather had insisted on being there. Then right after that, we were on a plane home.

  I rocked on the balls of my feet for a moment before knocking on the door to Cole’s apartment. I remembered all too well the last time I’d been there. The only other time I’d been there. And how eager we’d both been to get inside.

  Now I half-wished he didn’t answer; then I could chicken out and leave a note. I desperately wanted to get all the things I needed to say off my chest, and the sooner the better. But as I heard his footsteps approaching, I started to second-guess the wisdom of surprising him at his apartment.

  “Echo?” he asked when he pulled the door open. “What…what’re you doing here?”

  Holy hell. It was a good thing he normally didn’t answer the door this way, because he was dangerous. I could do nothing more than stare at his bare chest. Lean, chiseled, toned. Smattering of tattoos. His jeans hung low, revealing his hip bones, and those sexy obliques seemingly pointed the way south, along with a light smattering of hair on his lower belly. As if I could get lost.

  Why was I here again? Something about boning…? No. No… Talking. “I…I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I…I can go and talk to you tomorrow. I just…I think my family will show up again to watch, and there were a few things I wanted to say to you…privately.”

  He squinted at me as I rambled. He was either tired or plain old confused, but neither was a state of mind I wanted him to be in while he heard what I had to say.

  Damn. This was not how I wanted this to go. As Cece, I was confident, bold. As Echo, not so much. More awkward and full of the holy inappropriates. “I’ll just…go. I’m sorry,” I repeated, and turned to leave.

  “No. Come on in,” he said, opening the door wider to allow me to enter. “I was just playing some video games,” he reassured me. “My mind is still a bit wrapped up in…never mind. What was it you wanted to talk about?”

  Oh… So he expected me to focus, what, with his eight-pack on display? Riiight. I cleared my throat as he led me into his living room. “Looks better with everything unpacked.” A few fitness magazines sat on the coffee table, along with the video game controller. A blanket and pillows adorned the sofa, and there were DVD and video-game cases lined up on the shelves of his small television stand. I didn’t dare peek through the open door to his bedroom. Don’t go there.

  “What did you have to say?” Cole prompted, and I flushed.

  “Right, sorry. Actually, ‘sorry’ is one of the things I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry for my grandfather and the way he’s treated you. The way my whole family has treated you, to be honest. Mom and Dad are just distracted with…everything, so they can be dismissive. Dax and Bryce are fine. Ignore Fox, the rest of us do. But Gramps. I love him, I do, but asshole is his middle name.”

  Cole didn’t say anything, so I pressed on. “Their behavior… They don’t always think of how they might come across to other people when they want things a certain way. They can be forceful when it isn’t necessary. So, I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with so much of it, and thank you for…putting up with it.” I finished, flushing deeper.

 

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