The Thomas Flair - E.J. Russell Page 0,14

“‘Were’ is the word.”

Danny’s cheerful, open face clouded. “Something happen between you two?”

Tony scoffed. “Other than me letting the team down in Rio?”

“Are you fucking serious? You won two medals. How is that letting the team down?”

“We didn’t make the podium.”

Danny glared at him. “That was hardly your fault.”

“If I hadn’t tried to throw that extra release into my high bar routine—”

“You caught it in the event final.”

“But I flubbed in the team final. It was my fault we didn’t place.”

“Bullshit. There were five guys on that team. That’s why it’s called a team event.”

But if the right person had been on the team… “Still—”

Danny squeezed Tony’s biceps. Ow. “Dude. You need to get over that. Nobody blames you. You’ve been busting your ass for the last four years to build awareness and increase visibility for men’s gymnastics.”

That PR guy kept harping on the same thing, but Tony wasn’t entirely convinced. “If you say so.”

This time, Danny punched him, and not gently. “I do. And so does everybody else. You’ll see. Besides, other than you and Sol, none of us has any Olympic experience. Whatever anybody else may say, the team needs you.”

The team. Yeah, the team. That’s why Tony was doing this, wasn’t it? Why he’d given in to the PR guy’s push. Why he’d sweated bullets to get back in competition shape, why he’d signed on with a bulldog coach who could get him spots in the World Cup events, why he was here. The sport. The future of men’s gymnastics. The team.

But there was one person on the team whose opinion meant more to him than anybody else’s.

“So, Danny. Can you point me to Sol’s room?”

Time to brave the brewing shitstorm and take the consequences.

Sol fidgeted on his yoga mat in the corner of his bedroom. Damn it, he couldn’t center himself, and he knew why. Tony’s arriving today. He’ll be in the dining hall for dinner. He’ll be in the gym tomorrow.

Sol still wasn’t ready, and he needed to be. The selection committee would choose the Olympic squad in less than a month. Just because Sol’s record was solid over the last two seasons—he and Danny were tied for wins and placements—didn’t mean he had a lock on a team berth, not with the crazy new rules in place.

If he expected to make the team, to perform his best, he needed to focus.

But he could swear eyes watched him from every corner—limpid dark eyes set in a face he knew better than his own, since he’d spent more time looking at Tony than he ever had in a mirror. Because when he looked in a mirror, he saw the differences between him and his parents, his Korean features a constant reminder that his bio-parents had rejected him. Looking at Tony was easier.

Easier? Hell, looking at Tony was a freaking delight. The older they’d gotten, the more Sol had looked. And looked. And looked.

And at one time, not too long ago, he’d wanted nothing more than to touch and be touched.

Did Tony know that? Is that why he ghosted me?

Sol shifted into the cobra pose, still unable to get his brain to shut down. Since Rio, he’d learned how to manage without Tony in his life. Sure, he’d done it through the magic of denial, but he’d done it. He’d found a new equilibrium—the whole team had. Tony hadn’t been a part of that and throwing Tony back into the mix could upset the balance they’d worked so hard to achieve.

Is it the team I’m worried about, or myself?

At this point, Sol couldn’t make the distinction. Or maybe I just don’t want to try.

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, but before he could assume downward dog, a soft knock sounded on the door.

Sol frowned as he stood up. The athletes’ living quarters were off-limits to anyone but other athletes and USOPTC staff, and none of his teammates ever knocked that tentatively. He crossed the common room and peered through the peephole.

And fell back a step, sucking in a breath.

Tony.

Sol’s middle was suddenly full of dive-bombing butterflies, and the last four years might not have existed. He closed his eyes for a moment, steadied his breathing, and just like that he found his center—and what burned in his center was anger.

Anger and betrayal and loss. Everything he’d felt when Tony had walked out of his life. Xiao would probably tell him that he should focus on the positive rather than the negative, but at the moment,