by Lucia Franco
I let his words sink in and relaxed a little into his body. For someone who was built with as much muscle as he was, Hayden was unexpectedly soft.
He dropped a friendly kiss to the top of my head and then said, “Let’s take care of your other hand. Lucky for you, it isn’t that bad off, so it shouldn’t be as painful.”
Shouldn’t, being the key word.
When I first moved to Cape Coral in March, I worried I’d be a little lonely, even though I was ready for more freedom. But with the training and long hours, and getting accustomed to my new life, I hadn’t had time to actually feel alone. I guess it was a good thing. Weeks flew by, and before I knew it, summer training arrived. With no more school, it was train, train, train every minute of every day.
From what I’d heard, the members of World Cup and the coaches got together each year and had a Fourth of July barbecue. It was their way of bringing the team and coaches together and blow off a little steam. This year it was held at Kova’s impressive two-story home that overlooked the Caloosahatchee River. Considering he was from Russia, I found it amusing he would host a holiday that celebrated America’s Independence.
With the help of GPS, Alfred drove me to his house. Reagan and Sarah had arrived at the same time as me, and we walked in together, without saying a word except to exchange pleasantries before going on our separate ways. They walked toward the grand windows that overlooked the river to where other people were outside, but I knew the first thing I needed to do was greet the host. Manners went a long way, and my mom always made sure we were courteous.
Kova’s house was much bigger than I anticipated. He had a large, open floor plan and I wasn’t sure which way to go first. From the amount of parties we had back home, it was a given the host would be in the kitchen prepping, so that’s where I headed off to. I followed the sound of voices and water running and found the kitchen. As I drew closer, a pan clattered to the tile floor and I jumped. Faint, hushed voices filtered the air and I scrunched my brows trying to figure out who they belonged to. Rounding the corner, I knew for sure one was Kova, the other, I did not. My chest drew tight when I realized I walked in on Kova and a stunning brunette having an obvious argument. Kova’s jaw dropped then snapped back together, his arms flexed at his sides. The woman’s face faltered when the bitter bite of low words were exchanged from Kova. The tension was so thick between them it was suffocating. I couldn’t make out what was said since it was in Russian, but whatever it was couldn’t have been good because she looked on the verge of tears. Kova turned and forcefully threw something into the sink, and it rebounded around the stainless steel. He placed his hands on the ledge and leaned over, his eyes clenched shut. The woman placed a comforting hand to his shoulder only for him to shrug it off. Her face dropped and she threw her hands in the air, muttering under her breath and sauntered away.
I receded quickly before they saw me, but stood near the wall wondering what happened between them. I’d never seen Kova so worked up before. Sure, he was a dick at practice, but seeing it outside of the gym was not something I expected. I just figured he was that way because he was trying to bring out the victor in us. Maybe it really was just his personality.
I needed to find some friends to talk to quickly only to realize I didn’t have many here.
I heaved a sigh. I still felt a bit like an outcast among the rest of the team. They were nice, but mostly reserved and kept to themselves. Very cliquey. I probably should’ve made more of an effort to be friends with someone other than Hayden and Holly, but it wasn’t something I was pushing for. I came here to train, to be the absolute best I could be and gain the title of elite. Not to win Miss Congeniality.
Trying to befriend Reagan had been a challenge. I wasn’t any competition to her, she was an amazing athlete and much better than me. She knew it, and I knew it. So I wasn’t sure what the issue was. There was just no friendship with her, I was on my own. Sometimes I liked it, but most of the time it was frustrating when you wanted a friend to vent to who understood what you were going through. Maybe if I had pushed for it, I wouldn’t have been standing by myself, staring at…I had no idea what the hell I was staring at. A shrine?
Before me hung medals upon medals, framed photos, trophies, articles galore. You name it, it was here. And it was all about Kova. This was something only a proud mother would do, so I found it oddly bizarre a man of his stature would have his own hall of fame in his home.
Then again, I hadn’t accomplished what Kova had, not even remotely close, so I guess I shouldn’t really say anything. I could only hope. I’d probably have the same thing in my house. Hell, I had medals from competitions displayed in my condo right now.
Moving closer, my fingers grazed one of the gold medals, my heart yearning for one. Just one. God, what I wouldn’t do to have a beauty like this of my own one day. I’d probably never take it off. Well, maybe to sleep and shower, but that was it.
Kova had three gold medals and a handful of silver from two Olympics, the rings being his top event. I chuckled to myself. He probably hated the silver ones.
“What is so funny?”
I jumped, my hand flying to my racing heart. I looked behind me and saw Kova holding a glass of beer.
“Jesus!”
A sensual grin pulled his full lips to the side. His eyes softened and I swallowed. Totally different side of him from what I’d seen earlier when I walked in on the spat he was having. He seemed relaxed now, not tense. This man’s beauty was in a league of its own. He was charismatic when he smiled, and I could feel his goodness. A rare occurrence, and it was times like these I forgot he was my coach.
Kova looked incredibly amazing in his navy blue dress pants and crisp white button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, a silver watch with a large face adorned his wrist. His hair, although messy, looked as though he ran his fingers through it so it matched the two-day dusting coating his jaw. This was the first time I’d seen Kova wear something other than shorts in a long time. Amber skin, perfectly straight nose, and emerald eyes complimented him. He could’ve passed as an Armani model with flying colors.
“I did not mean to frighten you.”
“It’s okay. But I’m going to need you to put a bell around your neck as much as you sneak up on me.”
Kova looked down at his glass and swirled the amber liquid. He stepped up next to me and looked at his wall. He smelled like cinnamon and tobacco with a hint of citrus. I knew he wasn’t a smoker, yet the scent on him was seductive and sophisticated. I drew a silent breath into my lungs and felt it all the way to my core.
“What did you find so amusing?”
“Ah...” I turned back to the wall, heat rising to my cheeks. I seemed to blush a lot when Kova was around. I snuck a glance and he nodded his head, waiting for me. “I was just admiring your medals and wondered what you thought about your silver ones.”
He squinted with discerning eyes and looked at his wall, pursing his lips together in thought. I zoned in and noticed he had a deep cupid’s bow, where as I had full, ample lips.
Maybe Avery was right. He was Coach Kissable.
“I think I am very fortunate to have them, but also that I worked very hard and that I deserve them. Going to the Olympics is an accomplishment very few can achieve. Not even luck can get you there. It is pure determination, unwavering commitment to the sport, and a love that runs so deep for it that you would give up anything to achieve it. Sometimes even your life and childhood.” Kova took a sip of his beer. “Though, the truly dedicated would say gymnastics is their life, it is the air they breathe, so you are not really giving up your life at all if you are living it through gymnastics, are you?”
I read the underlining meaning in his eyes and felt the tone in his voice. He gave up everything in his childhood to achieve his dream. His devotion was contagious. My heart soared and a lazy smile spread across my face.
I looked back at his wall of medals and agreed. He was right in every sense. Luck had ver
y little to do with it, but he forgot something else.
“You forgot timing,” I said, looking directly into his eyes. “Timing is everything, especially in gymnastics.”
“You know what else I did not mention? Selfishness.”
My brows cinched together, not fully agreeing with him. “Selfishness? I wouldn’t necessarily say that.”
“Sure it is,” he countered, stepping closer to me.
“There is nothing wrong with being selfish,” he continued. “Gymnastics, once you reach a certain level, becomes your entire life and everyone is just revolving around you. It is all about you meeting your goals, you competing, you spending hours upon hours in a gym fighting to be the best. It is climbing a rope and everyone is just sitting back watching you. You have to give one hundred and fifty percent with this sport. Gymnastics, in a sense, is all about you.”
Rope. I smiled to myself at his gymnastics analogy. Most people said climb mountains, but he used rope since part of conditioning for many athletes was rope climbing.
“I hadn’t really thought of it like that before. I mean, in a sense, you’re right, but isn’t everyone selfish in some form then? Why a gymnast more so than others?”
He shook his head, disagreeing. “It is not the same.”
I knew what he meant, and he was right. It wasn’t the same. Most people were selfish to an extent. This was a personal drive trapped inside no one could help with, except one thing. A coach who understood. Gymnastics was like a drug. No matter how many times we got knocked down, no matter how many injuries we sustained, no matter how many times we’re told we’re not good enough, not the best, we always came back for more. It was a need that ignored all those around until it was filled, no matter the length of time it took. A gymnast’s drive outweighed everyone else’s and it never died.
“You know, I would almost rather have a bronze medal than have a silver,” he said, changing the subject.
“Why’s that?”
Kova shrugged one shoulder, as if the answer was obvious. “Silver is the first place loser.”
My eyes widened. I’d never thought of it like that when I’d won silver at meets.
“Coming in second place is the worst feeling after you just gave your all. There are winners and there are losers. You play a sport to win—that is it. Nothing else. You have one chance to prove yourself. One.” He shook his head, his eyes distant as he reminisced about the past. “I remember feeling completely and utterly gutted, like I was just given a consolation prize for all my hard work. I was up on the podium, thinking about what I could have done differently. Did I wobble? Did I take a step on a dismount? Did I bend my legs? Did I not have enough control in flight? Did I not train enough? I knew I should have been happy I secured silver, but it was not enough to win gold, and that was heart wrenching.” He looked at me as if trying to remember what he did wrong. “You can lose it all by a tenth of a deduction. So small, yet so powerful it can bring you to your knees in a mere second. It all happens so fast, you know? Once the flame is lit, the Games begin. You are there, in the moment, living it, breathing it, fighting for your dream. You are at each event for such a short period of time until you rotate to the next one. Once you get home and you finally have the chance to think about your experience, you have to ask yourself if it was real because it does not feel like it. It is like a blurry movie you want to tune and focus, but cannot…”
Kova’s words trailed off. He gave me a questionable look, as if he wanted an answer I didn’t have. His words stung my chest. I could hear the vulnerability in his voice, felt each word as he relived his past and tried to cope with it. The sincerity written on his face was full of meaning and emotion, and what he said packed a punch. He spoke from his heart, and I felt every bit of it.
This was a pivotal moment between us. He stood so close his words trailed over my skin, igniting a flame under me. He’d exposed deeply personal parts of his life again and it unknowingly opened a connection between us. I felt it, saw it. His eyes bore into mine and his lips slightly parted, a little opening in the center of them. The silence in the air caused a stirring. Without saying another word and with his eyes trained on mine, he lifted a hand and moved a lock of hair from my shoulder, tucking it behind my ear. A shiver ran down my arms as the back of his hand delayed, his finger peppering my jaw with the lightest touch possible. He stepped closer to me and I held my breath as his eyes took in every inch of me. His knuckles danced down my neck to my clavicle, his callused index finger gliding over me like a soft breeze.
“I bet your mom was proud of your silver medals,” I said softly.
Kova’s face dropped, his smile vanishing along with his hand. His eyes took on a blank stare and I suddenly regretted my comment.
“She was. She was proud of everything I did. She was my biggest supporter.”
I swallowed hard. “How long ago did she pass away?”
Kova took a deep breath and exhaled. “Eight years ago,” he said delicately.
My heart sank even more at the sadness in his tone. Instinctively, my hand reached out to comfort him.
“I’m so sorry.”
I rubbed his arm, my thumb going in circles. It wasn’t a wise decision, but I think I did it mostly because I felt his loss so strongly I wanted to soothe him. He flexed under my touch and his eyes shot to mine. I dropped my hand and cleared my throat awkwardly.
Kova shook it off.
“Was it cancer?” I asked curiously.
“I wish it could have been that.”
He wished it could have been that? “What do you mean?”
Him being vague wasn’t working for me, but that was Kova. Always so elusive. I wasn’t sure I should use the opening to ask more questions, so I stayed silent and waited for him to collect his thoughts.
“Since we have been upfront and truthful with each other…She was HIV positive,” he whispered quietly.
My jaw dropped, along with my gut. HIV. I was glad we hadn’t eaten yet, otherwise with all this tumbling between my heart and stomach, I’d probably vomit right now. That was extremely personal and not at all what I expected. Not one bit.
Wait a minute. If she was HIV positive, then that would mean…
My eyes popped, my head snapped to look at him. “I do not have HIV,” he answered my questioning stare. “She contracted it many years after I was born.” Kova sighed sadly, looking into his beer mug. “I would not be in this profession if that were the case.”
I was about to ask how she contracted HIV when a woman walked in, looking radiant as ever with a perfect sway to her hips.
“I was looking for you.”
I looked over at the singsong voice. It was the woman from earlier. Whoever she was, she was the definition of flawless. A perfect, glossy shine to her pin straight chestnut hair. Ivory skin, bright hazel eyes and a megawatt smile complemented her supermodel body. There wasn’t a thing wrong with her on the outside. Truly perfect from her French manicured toes to the top of her deep brown head.
Kova cleared his throat. “I apologize, malysh, I was just explaining my medals to Adrianna and how it was not done by having luck.” Kova looked at me, strained. “Adrianna, this is my girlfriend, Katja.”
Malysh. He called her Malysh like he’d once called me. Blood drained from my face, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach at the endearment he used on both of us. I knew he said it was by mistake when he said it to me, but it bothered me, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because she was perfection and I was not. Maybe it was because I secretly liked that he used it on me more than I wanted to admit, and now knowing he used it on her made me slightly envious. My insecurities I worked so hard to overcome, thanks to my mom, were making an appearance and I didn’t like it one bit.
She smiled and placed her hand out.
Katja looked back to Kova with a pointed brow. The tension was thick between them once again. “The grill is almost ready. Would you like me to get you another drink?”
“No, thank you.�
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“What is that?” she asked, brows angled together.
“Beer.”
She pulled back like he spoke another language. “Beer? No vodka for you?”
His sheepish eyes shot back to me. “I was thinking it would not be such a good idea to put my Russian half on display tonight.” He chuckled, his hand reaching out to cup Katja’s cheek, his thumb circling her immaculate skin. Her face tilted to the side, a honey smile on her lips. I got the feeling they were putting on a show after what I’d seen.
“Ah, I see. Well, we need you on the grill soon and more guests just showed up.” Katja placed a kiss to his lips, turned, and walked out.
Quietly, I admitted with a sliver amount of jealousy, “Katja is very pretty.”
He flattened his lips, his face faltering and I was curious to know why. “Yes, she is a very beautiful woman.”
Woman. Whereas I was a teenager.
Wanting to change the focus, I asked, “What other nationality are you?”
“I think I have spilled enough today...again. You heard Katja, I need to go.” And there was the stone-faced Kova I knew.
Coach Kova was back, ignoring my question. All I did was ask about his heritage and he shut down. It was by far the least intrusive of everything he exposed.
Kova left and walked back in the direction of the dining room and I followed behind, but the vibrant colors of a Florida sunset caught my eye and pulled me into a room just off from where the awards were. Looking out the window, deep pinks and an array of blues swathed the darkening sky behind a body of water. I smiled to myself at the warmth filling my heart. I seriously loved living in Florida.