didn’t expect that,” he mumbles into my hair.
“I didn’t plan on that,” I explain.
“I’m glad it happened, though,” he says earnestly.
“Me, too,” I say.
I didn’t know it was humanly possible to feel more relief and happiness than I’ve already felt today, but I’m so glad that my gut instinct was right—he wanted that kiss as much as I did. Ryan takes the Gatorade out of my hand and places both bottles on the linoleum floor by our feet so that he can kiss me again. It’s perfect.
“Look, I know I messed up—” Ryan starts, but I shush him with another kiss.
“There’s no need to keep apologizing,” I say, wrapping my hands around his waist.
“No, hear me out,” he insists. “I never stopped caring about you.”
He speaks slowly and fiercely, giving each word the weight it deserves.
“I didn’t say it before because I was an idiot, but the past few months have made me realize exactly how I feel,” he continues.
I go very still, even as my heart races. His dark eyes search mine.
“Avery, I love you,” he says.
I feel a rush of pure joy and a ballooning sense that everything is right in the world. This moment? It’s better than a perfectly stuck landing. It’s sweeter than the view from the top of the medal podium.
“I love you, too,” I say.
I know I’ve never stopped. This time, I’m not self-conscious to voice how I really feel. Suddenly, the significance of where we happen to be standing hits me, and I can’t help but laugh.
“What?” he asks.
“Do you remember our first conversation?” I ask.
“The night I called you about coaching at Summit?” he guesses.
“No, think—the very first time we ever spoke,” I prompt.
His eyes light up. “It was Nationals. I asked if you knew where the vending machine was.”
I smirk and lean back against this current vending machine, fingers dancing over his chest.
“Here we are,” he marvels.
JULY 2020
• EPILOGUE •
It’s competition day in Tokyo. I gasp when I enter the arena for the first time; the space is larger and flashier than anywhere I’ve ever competed, and handmade signs written in multiple languages wave in the crowd. Cameras capture every angle.
Hallie and the rest of the Fantastic Four warm up for the competition’s first rotation. They’re resplendent in matching royal blue leotards, and they work with an efficient, upbeat energy. Even though the stakes are higher today than ever before, everyone seems just so plain happy to be here. Hallie’s on floor first.
While the gymnasts get ready to compete, I stand on the sidelines with Ryan. We flew to Tokyo a few days early so Hallie could prep for the competition while adjusting to the fourteen-hour time difference, and though we’ve been working a lot, there’s also been just enough downtime to sneak out together on dates. The sushi dinner, sumo match, and Zen garden visit were amazing, but truthfully, we could’ve had just as much fun sitting in the supply closet at Summit. Since we got back together at Trials, I’ve felt so at peace. We’ve decided to keep our relationship private until after the Olympics.
A competition official signals to Hallie that she has time for one more tumbling pass, and then the warm-up will be over. Hallie nods, and I watch as she launches into a high-powered, tight double Arabian with a cleanly stuck landing. I shake my head in awe.
“Today’s going to be a good day,” I predict. “I can feel it.”
“Me, too,” Ryan says. He watches me studying Hallie on floor, then asks quietly, “Do you wish it were you out there?”
The question catches me off guard. For so long, I so desperately wanted to be in Hallie’s exact position. Losing out on the chance to compete in the Olympics was the single most devastating experience of my life—worse than surviving Dimitri’s rage, worse than watching my relationship with Tyler fall apart, worse than the time I thought I lost Ryan for good.
But the funny thing about your dream coming true is that it never quite happens the way you think it will. There’s always a twist. When I walked into the Olympic stadium for the first time, nobody cheered for me or waved signs with my name. My heart didn’t race with anticipation for my upcoming routines. Sports reporters didn’t hound me for interviews. And even stranger than all that? I didn’t care. I’m overjoyed to be here as Hallie’s coach. I’ve let go of my old dreams. My new life has replaced them.
Before I can