Execution (2020 Ed)

by Lucia Franco

  Thankfully the bug that had crawled up Kova's ass this morning at the mention of Hayden's name was long gone. For a man so sure of himself and his work, he couldn't seem to handle another man's name on my lips. That seemed to be a turning point for him.

  After a long and demanding ten-hour practice with a small lunch break in between, I was ready for the day to be over. Covered in chalk and damp with sweat, my palms were red and tender as I picked at the dead skin while I waited on Kova and Dr. Hart in the therapy room. Luckily my rips weren't bad at all, but any time I had dried skin that had rolled up, I couldn't not pick at it. In truth, I liked picking it.

  Gymnast problems.

  A deep, raspy voice twisted with a heavy Russian accent echoed down the hall. My heart sped up the closer their voices grew, and moments later, both Kova and his friend strode into the room.

  They were polar opposites and yet I didn't know who to look at first. Both were devastatingly handsome. Both were off limits. Both were capable of bringing me pain.

  Okay. I was a little nervous and my thoughts were everywhere other than where they should be. I made no sense. I had a feeling this massage was going to hurt more than be relaxing, even though I knew the outcome would be worth it… I hoped.

  "Worried?" Dr. Hart asked.

  I sat up straight and looked him directly in the eye. "What would I be worried about?"

  His eyes quickly drifted down to my mouth, then back up. "You're gnawing on your bottom lip."

  I stopped immediately and he smirked. He was as astute as Kova.

  Both guys walked over and stood in front of me and I held my breath. I was anxious for some reason.

  "Even though you only have an injury on one leg, we're going to massage both today so Kova can mimic my technique. That way you can tell me who is pressing harder and so forth. Sound good?" Before I could respond, he said, "Good. Now turn over on your stomach and leave your feet to hang off."

  I didn't say a word, just got on my stomach and then tugged at my leotard so my butt was covered as much as possible. I wanted this to be over as quick as possible.

  "Ah excuse me." I looked over my shoulder at Kova’s friend. His eyes were darting around the room and he was rubbing his hands together. "I just realized I left my bag in my truck. I'll be right back."

  As soon as he left the room, Kova didn't waste a second and walked over to me, intent thick in his gait. I pushed up on my elbows and clasped my hands together.

  Lowering his voice to barely above a whisper, he bent at the hips and said, "I see the way you look at him. He is married, Adrianna."

  Adrianna. My first reaction was to flinch, but I held firm and remained emotionless. "And you have a longtime girlfriend but that never stops you."

  He blinked.

  "Who said I was going to do anything?" I never intended to, that was the last thing I needed, but I couldn’t deny how attractive the man was.

  "I am not kidding. Do not get any ideas."

  This time I was unable to control myself and I gawked. Openly gawked at my moronic coach.

  "You can't be serious."

  "Deadly."

  A slow, an extremely slow, smile spread across my face, like the cat that ate the canary. I lowered my eyes and tipped my head forward so I had to gaze through my long lashes. As much as Kova got under my skin for things that were so trivial it made me want to punch trees, I loved sparring with him. I loved garnering a reaction when he was fired up and couldn't do anything more.

  "I'm beginning to wonder if I only have a thing for older, very attached men." I purposely stared at his kissable lips so he knew I was thinking about him. "Much like gymnastics, they're a challenge. And we both know how much I love a good challenge."

  His eyes widened. I grinned, pleased with myself. And as if I couldn't have timed it better myself, Dr. Ruggedly Handsome strode back in with his bag in hand. I made a point to rake my eyes hungrily down his friend's body while Kova watched crouched next to me and seething in silence. I would never make a play for him, but Kova didn't need to know. That's what he got for being a jealous dickhead.

  I turned back over, making sure to ignore Kova as I did, and dropped my head in my arms. Dr. Hart instructed Kova and guided him, then both of their hands were on my legs, starting near the back of my ankle and pushing up toward my knee to warm me up. My eyes rolled shut as their hands moved in circular motions. It felt so good.

  "Do you ever get deep tissue massages, Adrianna?" the doctor asked.

  "No. Never." Something told me deep tissue massages were in a cozy, relaxing room with lavender scented tea lights and rainforest music playing in the background. Not so clinical like this.

  "You should. They're quite important for you considering what you're training for. The toxins need to break down, and muscles need to align with the connective tissue. It helps tremendously with faster recovery."

  "She is already dealing with enough, and her schedule could hardly fit in an hour massage."

  "Kova." His friend drew out his name as if he was scolding him. Then he asked me, "Do you have any issues with flexibility or mobility?"

  I popped my head up and looked at the wall so my voice didn't sound muffled. "I had issues with my hip flexors, but Kova helped me with that. I'm in much better shape than when I first arrived."

  "The massage could have helped speed up that process too."

  That was when I decided to glare at Kova over my shoulder. I kicked my leg to get his attention and his head popped up.

  "You know, I could've slept an hour less if I needed to. I'm sure we could've fitted it in somewhere."

  He paused his movements, as his friend continued his. "Are you seriously going to question me? After everything?"

  "Yes, I am. I would've managed if I had to. You know I would have."

  "No"—he shook his head—"there was no way. You run on fumes as it is, Adrianna."

  His friend chuckled. "You two spar like an old married couple. It's getting late. Not sure what you both have planned after practice, but we could do one after we work your Achilles."

  "Yes," I said automatically. Anything would help. Kova didn't reply. He just stared at me like he wanted to strangle me to death.

  "You'll be sore," Dr. Hart warned.

  "Story of my damn life."

  He laughed again. "Kova? What say you, man?"

  Only someone intimate with Kova would recognize the glint in his eyes or the slight twist of his lips. It was a dirty and devious look that spoke of debauchery.

  His hands commenced and this time they pushed into the muscles harder. My stomach clenched, and I tried not to react to the pain. Both men applied the same pressure. Their thumbs worked together, kneading the muscle and tendon.

  "I need to call my love and see if Kat planned anything for us tonight."

  My eyes dropped to a blaring glare.

  That. Fucker. He would go there.

  "Ah, the stunning Katja. When the hell are you going to marry her already?"

  My heart stopped. I held my breath as Kova watched me with a look of indecision. He didn't know what to do, at least that's how I wanted to read him. But marry Katja? After everything? He'd never. Not after he'd cheated on her so badly with me. No way.

  Right? How could he?

  "You are going to marry her, aren't you?" he stirred. "I mean, you've been with her since you were kids. What are you waiting for?"

  I watched his Adam's apple bob stupidly slow. With my eyes fastened on his mouth, I thought I misheard his answer despite reading his lips.

  "Eventually, yes."

  My lips parted, surprised, and I was struck with fear that he was telling the truth. Everything around me faded to black. I couldn't hear. I couldn't see. I couldn't do anything. There was no way to hide the hurt that spread throughout my entire being like a wildfire. My chest burned, and my face fell when I caught the fleeting look of remorse in Kova's eyes. He regretted it, but the damage was already done. Again. I wasn't sure if he truly meant w
hat he said or not, but the truth was, I didn't want to know. He said the words he knew would devastate me the most and that's what mattered.

  "Jesus. Your Achilles is brutally tight," Dr. Hart said, taking me away from my sorrowing thoughts. I never wanted to imagine Kova marrying Katja. The thought made my stomach churn. I was queasy. Maybe he'd marry someone else after he and I were one hundred and eighty-seven percent finished, and it was due to both of us agreeing it would never work.

  But not Katja, because after all we shared between us, that meant I had never been enough for him from the start, that I was just a doll for him to play with, and she wasn't.

  I glanced at the doctor, repeating his words in my head. I was too astounded to communicate.

  "It blows my mind you haven't ruptured it completely," he said.

  Dazed, I turned back over and dropped my face into my crossed arms, not caring if my voice was muffled now. "Yeah… I'm pretty conscious of it and try to be careful on that side."

  I wasn't sure I made sense, but I didn't care.

  An hour later, Dr. Handsome was gone and I was bent over in pain from the deep tissue massage, afraid to stand. I did and carefully hobbled across the hall to the lockers. I would be exceptionally sore tomorrow, but the doctor had insisted I’d feel like a new person with more bounce in my step come this weekend for the last meet before I went home.

  I should've said no to the massage. I should've asked them to stop and feigned sickness or something. But I didn't. Instead, I took the sweet pain and considered it my consequence for provoking Kova earlier. I didn't utter a word, I didn't gasp or hold my breath, or shed a tear or ask for them to go lighter. I laid stone-still, facedown and dying inside from their crafted hands that knew how to manipulate and ease my muscles, and relinquish toxins and Kova's words.

  If only I could relinquish Kova from me.

  Karma. That’s what I got for playing with the big boys.

  Pulling out my duffle bag, I considered cleaning out my locker when Kova strode in. I looked over my shoulder, but I didn't say a word.

  He leaned his side against the locker and stared at me.

  "What is it?"

  "Adrianna, if this is about Kat—"

  "I really don't want to talk about it, Kova." I sighed, unable to hide the hurt I was feeling. "Maybe I needed to hear it to get out of this fantasyland I've been living in about us, I don't know." I swallowed back the tears and stared at the contents in my locker. I couldn't look at him just yet. My voice cracked with emotion. "I guess I didn't expect you to actually marry her after everything. Like how could you live with yourself after so much lying and cheating? I can't believe I'm going to say this, but it's not fair to Katja. Even though we're not in an actual labeled relationship, you can't be completely oblivious to the fact that there's more here between us. Am I saying let's explore that right now? God, no." I paused for a moment. "I don't know what I'm saying, maybe it's just one-sided, maybe I'm too optimistic and hopeful. Either way, it was something I needed to hear. It put things into perspective, that's for sure. I can always leave it to you to really cut me deep."

  He wasn't angry when he responded. Instead, he was gentle. "There is a lot that you do not know."

  "Because you don't tell me."

  "Adrianna—"

  "I'm just stupid and naive, I guess. I don't want to talk about it anymore," I said, softly shutting my locker. I finally looked at him and let him see the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. "I have to go."

  Much to my surprise, I'd never seen him look so upset and so guilty and full of shame all at once. His eyes scanned my face, my mouth, my eyes, they were everywhere.

  Shaking my head, I stepped around him and walked toward the door. Right before I stepped out of the room, Kova's broken whispers in Russian caught my ears. I glanced over my shoulder and watched as his fist flew into a locker, twice. I quickly stepped out but peaked through the small doorjamb opening and watched.

  Kova turned around and leaned against the lockers. His head fell back and he stared at the ceiling. His face was rigid, his jaw grated together. A sharp pain shot through my chest. I felt everything he exposed when he thought no one was watching. Everything. It took strength not to walk back in there and talk to him.

  I shot a quick glance at his reddened knuckles. The skin had broken and blood dripped onto the floor as he clenched his fist.

  I could be a lot of things when I needed to, but I refused to console him about his impending marriage.

  Fifty-Two

  I hadn't slept more than ten hours all weekend due to the hectic schedule of the competition and flying back and forth.

  In truth, I couldn't afford to rest. Or to think about what Kova had said to Ethan, and how I'd left him in the locker room. I hadn't let myself. I had a one-track mind all weekend and it stayed that way. Even driving back to Palm Bay, I refused to let myself think about it. It hurt too much.

  The clock was ticking. Each meet that I placed in the top three brought me one step closer to the Olympics. First place was always the goal. Despite second place being the first-place loser, I was still happy with it. Silver still put me on the grid. I was competing against gymnasts with no injuries, and much younger. The odds were unquestionably against me, but my drive and determination exceeded theirs and it showed in my performance.

  This past meet, the Secret U.S. Classic, I had placed first in vault and bars, and second in floor. I had walked away with two gold medals and one silver. It was a tight squeeze for beam and I was close to getting bronze, but I didn't. Still, I was golden and feeling confident.

  Monday came fast and hard. Crawling out of bed these mornings had been a task in itself. Even now I was dead tired and it was midafternoon. Three days of straight practice, two blading sessions—one late Sunday night when we got home, one before I left—and then I was free for an entire week. That had been my goal and focus and what helped me stay motivated.

  The blading… Man. What a difference it'd made. Even more, the deep tissue massage. I couldn't believe it, but Dr. Hart had been right. I felt like a new person with a little pep in my step and when competition time came, I had a whole new body. It was remarkable to be pain free while defying gravity. I insisted Kova fit them in my schedule. I told him if my coach couldn't help me and make it work, I'd go to a physical therapist.

  He gave me that infamous glare upon my demand.

  I got what I wanted.

  I couldn't help but wonder how I would’ve fared if I'd had them sooner.

  "Bez truda, ne vitashish i rubku iz pruda." Kova had said to me in Russian at the meet. "No pain, no gain."

  I hated that saying, and when I had told him so, as well as reminded him I was not in pain, he had just shrugged his shoulders, indifferent. "Not physically, but your pride is," he had replied.

  I hated that he was right. He'd asked me how I was doing, and I gave him a generic answer. It was how we maintained our relationship the entire weekend—a question with a basic response. Though, when I stuck a landing or received the most points allowed in my routine, we both grinned from ear to ear and threw around hugs like they were free.

  But nothing was free. Everything came with a price.

  Over two hours of driving, I pulled into my family's estate, ready to spend the Easter holiday with them. We may reside on a swanky island, but our opulent home was a secret oasis of peace and quiet, and my body was craving that. I needed the rest badly, especially since this month would be extremely chaotic with upcoming championships. And championships were very important. If I didn't place then, I was basically screwed.

  My stomach churned, and a sense of dread clouded me as I passed through the iron gates. Without the B12 injections and sheer force of willpower to keep going, I could collapse any minute, but there was an unsettling feeling in my gut and it kept me alert as I parked my truck.

  Glancing around the lush, tropical paradise my parents built before I was born, nothing seemed out of place. I disengaged the keys an
d sat back in the silence of my tinted car and stared. Maybe I'd worked myself up for nothing. I did have a lot on my mind as it was. But the driveway was empty, void of both my parents’ cars.

  It wasn't long until I was in my childhood home and unpacked and back downstairs looking for my mom and dad. I sent Avery a quick text to let her know I was here and to stop by, but she didn’t respond. I sent texts to both my parents, and they didn't respond either. With nothing to do but wait, I decided to lay down and rest my eyes.

  "My, my, my, don't you look incredible." Mom's honeyed voice rang from behind me. I turned around and my eyes met her proud ones that gleamed in delight. It left me a little sickened. I'd always been thin, and right now I knew I was extremely skinny. Waiflike. She was too happy over my appearance, and it made me question how she had felt about me a year or so ago when I was only twelve pounds heavier. I almost wondered if she wanted me to look, or be, anorexic.

  Brushing it off, I gave her a hug. "Hi, Mom."

  "I'm so glad you could come home for a little while. Easter wouldn't be the same without you."

  "Glad to be home."

  Mom hugged me a little tighter before letting go. She glanced down and frowned. "You look a little tired."

  "I just woke from a nap."

  "Ah, okay. Just be sure you're using under eye cream. It's never too early to start. A little concealer for the dark circles too. Yes?"

  I nodded, a faint smile on my lips. "Of course."

  She patted my shoulder, pleased with my response. Like I was going to worry about under eye cream at my age. I had enough things to carry on my shoulders as it was.

  "Your father and I have something we'd like to speak to you about. Do you have a minute?"

  I nodded and followed behind. Stepping into my dad's office, I was met with the most gorgeous sunset that bloomed through the large window that overlooked the rich, green lawn. Warm rays of blood orange and rosy hues filled the room. I inhaled as if I could breathe in the colors. I wished I was outside. I missed the beach. It smelled like old leather and comfort in here, just as I remembered. As a kid, I used to just sit on the floor and play with my Barbies for hours while he worked. Mom used to try and shoo me out. Even though I never uttered a word and didn't dare bother him, she'd said I was a hassle and that he needed silence to concentrate, but he'd always told her to leave me be. One day when I walked in, I found my Barbie dollhouse in his office. Dad had moved it in there along with a trunk of dolls and their dress up clothes. That was the last time she tried to pry me away.