His theatrics make me chuckle. “Gosh, I missed this. It’s never as good in text or any other form of electronic communication.”
“He’s one of a kind.” Cody smiles his special smile that’s reserved for when he talks about his partner in crime. Then he looks at me. “Speaking of work though. How are things going?”
I welcome the change in topic and try to push Noah out of my mind.
At least, for now.
Plus, I love talking about my work. I love thinking about my work. The doodles I did as a chubby toddler have matured and developed to the point where I became a children’s book illustrator—with the occasional dabble into other areas like middle school or young adult if the job sounds interesting, and the pay is fair.
It brings me a joy I don’t think any other job could ever match. There’s just something about the sweetness and innocence, not to mention the pure joy that practically jumps off the pages, and I enjoy being a part of it.
I shrug. “It’s going okay. Good. Between the publisher and my indie authors, my schedule is full.”
“So the freelancing is working out, then?”
“It is. I wasn’t sure if anyone would hire a random illustrator for their books online, but they do.” The pride is easy to hear in my voice, and I wear it like a crown because I’m proud of myself. I worked incredibly hard for what felt like a gazillion years, and it paid off.
After taking another lazy sip from his drink, he tips his head to the side. “And what about the competition?”
I draw a breath before speaking. Now that’s a totally different topic. “I really want to win it because I just know it would make such a big change in my career, but . . .”
“But?”
I bare my teeth in a grimace. “According to Gina from the office, it will come down to me and this other guy. Joe. He’s a good illustrator but also a major asshole. We’ve gotten into a few arguments online because he thinks he’s better than me, and that they’ll pick him anyway because the execs are guys and well . . . he’s one too.”
Cody’s brows shoot up before he exhales sharply. “That’s bullshit.”
“Yup. Pretty much.”
“Do you think she’s right?”
I swallow, not sure if I want to be honest not only to him but also to myself. “I don’t know. It’s possible. Wouldn’t be the first time they pick a man over a woman just because they have an extra piece of meat hanging between their legs.”
Cody chokes on his drink, and I slap my hand over my mouth.
My breath makes a hissing noise. “Sorry.”
He wipes his mouth on a napkin before dragging it down his smooth-shaven chin. “Just didn’t see it coming, that’s all. You know I’ve seen my fair share of inequality just because I’m gay.”
“Why are people like that? I will never understand it. It’s just stupid.” It might sound like a juvenile answer but that’s really what it comes down to. “I hate it.”
“I know you do. You’ve always had a gentle heart and wanted everyone to get along.” He places his hand on my arm and squeezes gently.
I did and still do. The thought alone of people hurting because of others’ idiocy makes me incredibly sad and angry.
We’re both quiet, and I’m glad I have a moment to get my emotions under control.
Cody nudges me with his elbow. “And you’re volunteering at the hospital too?”
My spine straightens at his question, a lightness spreading through my body that wasn’t there a minute before. “Yes, I’m super excited. It’s been a while since I’ve done a bigger project like this. It will be a nice break from my normal work a few hours a week.”
“It’s about time they catch up with the outpatient building after enhancing the main hospital last year. The kids will love having murals on the walls.” The gentle smile on his face proves once more why he makes such a good doctor for the little ones.
“I think so too.”
Even though I don’t know everything about nephrology—his field of expertise—his general medical knowledge has come in handy on more than one occasion.
“Anything to make the little ones smile, right?” He downs the rest of his drink before he turns around to the sound of the microphone being tapped. The light on the small stage across the room dims just as the music starts.
In less than five seconds, Cody is engrossed in the power ballad Francesco is belting out for him, both of them wearing matching dorky smiles. Neither Francesco’s exotic shirt nor the palm thatch and bamboo decoration around him takes away from how romantic this moment is.
The fact that the bar is still closed, and we’re the only ones out in the actual lounge part, makes me feel like I shouldn’t be here. Like I’m intruding on a private moment. On their love.
Even though it thrills me that they’re still this happy after so long.
I’ve often wondered what that would feel like.
To have someone to come home to.
To share a bed with someone every night.
A whole life.
A long life.
My throat feels scratchy, like always when thoughts like these take over my mind.
But I push them away as much as I can, knowing I should get home so I can lose myself in my drawings. It’s the escape I so often seek—my favorite kind of escape and self-induced therapy—filling my bucket with much-needed happiness and a sense of accomplishment.
After seeing Noah again, there’s a chance my fingers will try and draw him like they so often do. Even though this time it’s a new Noah. The older version of him, different than his younger self yet in some ways the same. Without a doubt more mature, more muscular, and manlier. And most definitely sexier. Shit, it won’t be easy, but I have to resist that urge.
He used to be my most favorite thing to draw, but times have changed.
He’s not that one person for me anymore—my person—the one I’ll spend the rest of my life with.
I should be glad that chapter is now officially closed after my apology.
So why do I feel like I just lost him all over again?
Six
Noah
Two hands tap the side of the pool to get my attention when I’m almost done with the lap. I slow down, swimming to where my coach is now crouching next to the starting block.
Coach Diaz has trained me since I was a little kid, and his now weathered face is as familiar to me as my parents’, if not more. His salt-and-pepper eyebrows draw together as he stares at me, the breath he releases heavy and filled with so much meaning.
After working together for two decades, it’s almost natural to know the other person’s body language like it’s your own. Particularly important with swimming where we often have to communicate without words.
I hold on to the edge of the pool as we exchange a loaded look.
Since I’m busy slowing down my breath anyway, I wait until he starts to talk. I know something is up from the way he looks at me, and because he usually doesn’t interrupt me unless it’s important.
After giving me a small nod, he leans down to clap my shoulder. “Let’s wrap up your main set and cool down, okay?”
“Okay.”
With a low hiss, he straightens to his full height, which is several inches below my six foot three, and hugs his clipboard to his chest. “Drop by the office on your way out?”
My stomach rolls at his question and what’s about to happen, but I nod anyway. “Sure.”
Because I know. I just know why he wants to see me. What he wants to talk about. The immature child in me wants to cross his arms over his chest and huff out a “But I don’t want to.” Alas, I’m almost thirty years old and that shit doesn’t fly anymore.
He breaks eye contact and tips his head once. “Good, good. Now get your ass moving and cool down.”
With a turn on his heel, he takes off, and so do I. Weaving in and out of the water, diving below the surface, just to launch myself out of the water again and into the air. Repeat and repeat. Dolphi
n dives are one of my favorites, even when I do them slower to relax. There’s something liberating about this particular move that has always spoken to me.
The movement clears my head. It’s only me and the water, which is the way it’s been for such a big part of my existence. I can tune out my life and everything that bothers me, completely focus on my body, and the work I’m putting into my performance. It’s been the one constant thing in my life.
At least, it used to be.
My cooldown—or rather, warmdown that allows waste products to be effectively removed from my muscles—is distracting enough that my head stays mostly clear and undisturbed until I finish up and shower.
When I knock on Coach’s open door, he waves me inside, and my brain’s back in overdrive. We train here at the university most of the time because Coach is their swim team’s trainer, and wherever he goes, I go. The competition with the youngsters also helps keep me on my toes.
There aren’t a lot of people here, so it’s quiet after my training session, and I leave the door open. That way it feels less restricting.
“Hey, Coach.”
“One moment.” He lifts a finger off the computer. “Sit.”
I don’t need to be told twice, so I walk over to the chair and plop into it. This was only my morning session, and it’s not even noon yet, so why do I feel so exhausted already? My terrible sleep in the last few days is probably one of the reasons, and I blame her for it.
Seeing Chloe over the weekend has thrown my equilibrium more than I’d like to admit. How can someone you haven’t seen in a decade have so much impact on your life?
Coach puts his glasses on his desk and rubs his eyes. “Okay. Let’s get straight to the point. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.” My standard answer.
“I see.” His groan is barely audible. “Well, if you think it’s nothing, let me tell you my two cents.”
My next swallow is harder to push down as the wave of uneasiness creeps back through my body.
“I’ve had a lot of students, most of them come and go, but you and I have been training together for a very long time. I know something’s off with you. I can see your mind hasn’t been in this lately, and you know that too. I can’t even remember the last time your times were this shitty.”
I lean on the back of the chair and stare at the ceiling. “I know my times have been crap this week.”
Thanks, Chloe.
“No doubt about that. But I’m not just talking about this week. They were already getting worse before then too. They haven’t been your best for a while, but you were able to scrape it together for the Olympics and barely anyone noticed.”
Ah, yes. The Olympics. Winning those medals. Adding them to the others I won at previous Games I’ve attended in my career. It was an amazing feeling. Something that would never get old, or so I thought.
But . . . here we are.
At a loss of words, I shrug.
That elicits another frustrated groan from Coach. “All right, here’s the deal. I think you have another great four years and an Olympics in you, but my opinion doesn’t mean shit if you don’t put the work and effort into it.”
“I know.”
“Well, isn’t that just peachy that you know that?”
I raise my head at his retort and look at him.
He leans forward as far as the desk allows. “I want you to take some time off and think about what you want. Your volunteer work starts this week, right?”
I nod.
“Good. Maybe doing something else will get you out of this funk, or at least, give you some clarity. Sometimes it’s good to push, necessary even. But there are also times when you’re at a crossroads without realizing it. At that point, pushing only forces you down a path that will lead to misery and disappointment. That’s not our goal, you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes turn toward the ceiling, and I give him a moment. Especially when he starts massaging his temples. I know when to shut up with this man. The same way he knows me, I know him too. And I have no desire at all to push his buttons today.
“Is there anything I should know about? Are you in any kind of trouble?”
A long sigh leaves his body when I shake my head.
What does he expect me to tell him? Because I honestly don’t have a clue myself. It sounds stupid, but one day I just woke up and felt incredibly tired. Bone-deep exhaustion. I didn’t feel “it” anymore, that inexplicable, invisible force that drives you to push yourself harder than you ever thought you could be pushed. To achieve the unimaginable and continue doing so.
He studies me, probably knowing I’m full of it. “That’s something I guess.”
Weirdly enough, my brain’s blank right now. I know he’s right about my times, and that something’s going on, but I’m not exactly sure what it is either. Or why.
Sure, I can blame Chloe for the extra distraction in the last few days, but not before then. What or who can I blame for that though? No one but myself probably.
He rubs his chin. “Go talk to someone if that helps.”
That gets my attention. “Like a therapist?”
“That’s why we have sports psychologists. They know what they’re doing.”
“Hmm.”
He wags his finger at me like he’s done so many times before. “Noah, you might be a grown-ass man, but you don’t need to give me attitude. Figure this shit out. Take some time off. Do the volunteer work at the hospital. Hang out with your friends. Do nothing. But do something that helps. This isn’t just about your swimming, this is about your life. Something has to change.”
My fingers tap on the armrest in a fast rhythm before I cross my arms in front of my chest to keep still. “Will do.”
“Good.” He brushes a hand over his face, the golden band on his finger reflecting the light. “You know where to find me if you need me. Now get out of here, or you’ll be late.”
With my bag in hand, I stand in the doorway less than a minute later. “Thanks, Coach.”
He only grunts and waves me away.
“Noah.”
I turn around and look for my sister. And there she is. In all of her nurse glory. Brown hair atop her head, dark scrub pants paired with a Dory scrub top, and a paper tray with two large cups from the coffee shop by the entrance.
When she reaches me, she’s a little out of breath. “What are you doing here?” I’m just about to reply when she groans, “Oh right, the painting starts today, doesn’t it?”
“Just a preliminary meeting of sorts to make sure we know what we’re doing, who we’ll be working with . . . that sort of thing. Some prep work. And then we’ll start over the weekend.”
After transferring the tray to one hand, she reaches out to grab my arm as we walk to the bank of elevators together. “I’m glad you’re doing this. It sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Hmm.” Grunting seems to be my specialty today.
“Is everything okay? You seem grumpier than usual.”
Yes, it seems I’m grumpy most of the time, but what can I say? I’m under constant pressure to perform virtually three hundred sixty-five days a year. Well, at least it feels that way sometimes.
But am I grumpier than usual? Hell knows.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to decide how much to share with her. Do I tell her about the tongue-lashing I received from Coach?
Besides the guys, she’s the closest person I have in my life. I’m close with our parents too, but they’ve been on a mission to save the world—currently in Africa. That’s great for them and everyone they can help, but they also left Daisy in a bind when she had to figure out life after her divorce.
But, as usual, they told her they believed in her, and that she was capable of managing it all, half a foot already on the next airplane. Metaphorically, of course, but it might as well have happened. Being supportive and overly loving while at the same time being absent. That’s our parents in a nutshell. Loving f
rom afar. Not as available to us as we’d often like.
The elevator ride is quick, and I feel her eyes on me the whole time.
When we step out together on the third floor, her gaze is gentle. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
“You’re the second person today to say that to me.”
Her eyebrows go up. “Really? Who else said it?”
“Coach.”
“Mmm. Interesting.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” She brushes a stray hair from her forehead. “Lorenzo usually doesn’t say anything until he really has to.”
“Maybe.”
“So what’s going on?” She’s not going to let this go. Once she knows something is going on, she’s like a ferret. Their latch-on bite is brutal, and you have to cover their nostrils in hopes they’ll let you go.
Talk about random tidbits in my brain.
Naturally, my gaze flickers to my sister’s nostrils. It might distract her from digging deeper, but yeah, no, thank you.
Instead, I exhale dramatically because I feel like it today. “He said I need to figure out what’s going on and what I want to do because my times have been shit.”
“Ouch.” Daisy grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug, because I still don’t know what to say or think about it.
A flicker to her watch has her eyes widen. “Dang it, I have to hurry. But let’s talk about it some more later, okay? I want to help if I can.”
“Sure.” The only acceptable answer right now, not that I want to talk about it again.
With another quick squeeze to my arm and a wave, she turns around and speed-walks away.
After releasing a pent-up breath, I turn the opposite way and head in the direction I was told to go for the meeting.
When I get to station five, I stop dead in my tracks at the scene in front of me.
A man and a woman laughing together. The guy bends down to kiss the woman’s cheek before he disappears behind a door that leads to the exam rooms.
The woman’s smile still lingers on her face, lighting it up like a Christmas tree. She looks absolutely stunning. Radiant even.
Second Dive: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Kings Of The Water Book 3) Page 4