by Lucia Franco
I never said no to coffee.
"Any food?"
"I'm good. Thanks."
"If you want to go sit, you can," she said and pointed toward the gate.
I walked to the somewhat empty waiting area and sat down in an open row of chairs and placed my carry-on at my feet. Dressed in a World Cup sweat suit, I pulled my hood over my head and folded my arms together so I could use them as a pillow to rest my head on.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think of how Kova should be here by my side. My entire being was missing him something fierce. It was like a sickness I couldn't shake—lovesick was real. I was already craving the inspirational words he liked to give me before competitions. I wouldn't get them or see the look in his eyes when he told me to be strong.
I clenched my eyes shut, pushing the emotion back. It wasn't fair, and if I had even the slightest feeling I could sway Dad, I would. But I knew there was nothing I could do at this point. Not after what he’d said to me. He'd made his decision clear and that was it. Plus, it was too late anyway.
Curling up into a ball, I tucked my knees under me and covered my face with my hood to block out the light. I was prone to migraines these days, and the blinding light inside the terminal didn’t help the pounding on the side of my skull. I drew in a lungful of air and my back tingled with awareness. I shifted in my seat and it happened again, this time stronger. My brows furrowed. It felt like a warning. My arms prickled, and my nose twitched from the faint scent of something familiar.
I felt a presence wash over me, but I hadn't heard any footsteps approach. Maybe I was more tired than I thought. I was in an airport with hundreds of people and my mind was playing with my emotions. I was too delicate when it came to him and his absence. It was the harsh truth, and after this weekend, I was going to try and stop mourning him so much. I didn't have the strength to let go right now. I needed to put all my focus into the sport. It was what Kova would've wanted.
Something in the air shifted and caused the rate of my pulse to increase. I flushed, and warmth pushed through my veins. Electricity danced around me like it was mocking me.
My cheeks bloomed with heat. I was hyperaware of someone watching me.
I held my breath.
The warmth in my chest made my heart speed up with anticipation.
I prayed this wasn't a cruel trick that my subconscious was playing on me.
I took a deep breath, then another, and another.
I knew before I opened my eyes…he was here.
I was terrified. I was scared of what I'd see, or what I wouldn't actually see.
Inhale, exhale.
Every fiber in my body said Kova was here.
Would he be angry with me? Would he resent me and never want to talk to me again after all this was over?
No, he wouldn't. He loved me. He’d told me he did countless times. Love didn't make people feel hate.
My heart was fluttering harder than ever as I slowly opened my eyes…and I stilled.
The first thing I saw was his hand hanging between his spread legs. I blinked to see if it was real. He was moving, pushing his palm toward the floor to signal me. He did it twice, silently telling me to stay. There was a small black duffle bag near his booted feet.
My heart catapulted into my throat. I popped right up and pushed my hood back as my frantic eyes took in his sorrowful ones. My lips parted in disbelief.
Konstantin Kournakova was at the airport.
"Kova," I whispered under my breath. My hands grabbed the armrests. I wanted to jump from my seat and run to him, but I knew better.
"Stay, Ria." He issued the command quietly.
My brows furrowed as I stared at him. I watched him closely, afraid he was going to disappear. His eyes lifted toward something over my shoulder.
My stomach tightened. Kova was eyeing Dad. My fingers tightened around the armrest and I gripped it to steady myself.
There were dark scalloped circles under his guarded eyes as he watched my dad closely.
A vicious ache slashed through my chest. My heart was burning for him.
"Keep your eyes on me," he said. I nodded subtly, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"You're here?" I said quietly.
Tears blurred my vision and my jaw quivered. I didn't want to get caught showing any kind of emotion toward Kova and ruin this, even though I felt like I was breaking inside. That would be like putting us on a platter and handing it to Dad along with a carving knife. I needed to pull myself together.
Anxiousness flickered in my stomach. My nerves were making me edgy again.
I drank him in from head to toe; the demanding need to know what he was thinking and feeling rushed through my blood. He was wearing dark distressed jeans, and I tried to think of a time when I'd seen him in them. All I could remember ever seeing him wear were dress pants or gym shorts. The black military style boots were loosely laced, and the hem of his jeans were haphazardly tucked into them.
My gaze made its way up his body and stopped on his knuckles. They were scraped and bruised, cut with deep red stitching over the creases. It reminded me of when I fell off my bike and skinned my knees. I frowned, wondering if that happened with Dad or while he was in jail.
"Are you okay?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
Enigmatic green eyes bore into mine. There was no half exposing anything in his gaze. He let go and aimed straight at me.
"I am now. And you?"
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
"I'm fine." It was an automatic answer these days, but he knew the real meaning behind the word. "How are you here?" I whispered.
My gaze lowered. His black cable knit sweater looked cozy. I wanted to curl up and burrow myself into him. I needed to feel his arms around me. He seemed so calm and relaxed on the outside, and it made me second-guess what he felt for me on the inside. If he held me, I'd be able to tell.
My eyes traveled back up to his. Kova didn't bother answering me. He didn’t need to. His expression told me everything I needed to know. He held my gaze with a depth that wrapped around my entire being. He was asking me to hang on another second, yet to the outside world he remained aloof.
Then he dropped the shroud, and I knew him.
I felt him.
I saw him.
He was anything but cool inside. He was emotionally distraught. He was raw, ribs ripped wide open, bleeding love and despair.
Air expelled from my lungs.
Kova's gaze dropped to my stomach. My nostrils flared and I covered myself, looking away. I felt protective of what was no longer there, protective of my initial choice, but more so protective of my emotions because I didn't actually get a choice in the end. Neither did he. My biggest worry was that I was going to be blamed for the miscarriage. I didn't want to be blamed.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Dad and Sophia walking over to us. I stilled, panicking at the thought of how this would turn out. Did my dad even know he was here?
I turned my attention back to Kova to see if he’d noticed, but he hadn't. The light remaining in his eyes dimmed lower, his gaze staying where my hands were on my stomach. He wasn't angry at me like I’d worried he would be.
He was dying inside, like I was.
I swallowed hard, wishing it wasn't like this, fearing this would change us forever.
I heard their muffled voices before they came into full view.
Dad's eyes were fixated on Kova, glaring at him with hostility. I stiffened. Judging by how tense Dad’s shoulders were, I could tell he was irritated, but I also knew he wouldn't make a scene in public. I sat up straighter, my heart beating a little faster. Different scenarios flashed through my mind wondering how this would go as Dad sat down stiffly next to me. Sophia reached over to hand me the coffee cup, then she quietly took a seat next to Dad.
Kova didn't move his head, but he lifted his gaze and nailed Dad with it.
"Konstantin."
My eyes widened.
Kova con
tinued to eye him.
"Don't forget what we spoke about and the reason why you're here. Unless it’s regarding gymnastics, there will be zero communication between the two of you. You're here solely for her benefit in the sport, and nothing more. Do you both understand?"
I held my breath, waiting. Kova didn't reply, and that only skyrocketed the friction between all of us.
I nodded subtly and worried my bottom lip. Kova's eyes softened with guilt as he turned my way. A flash of regret shadowed his eyes before he turned cold. My chest deflated on a hushed breath. Kova grabbed his duffle bag and stood.
My heart stopped.
Gripping the armrests again, I watched him walk a few chairs down. He flung his bag to the floor then dropped into an empty seat. With one leg bent and the other extended, he slouched back and folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.
This was hell on earth for us.
Not seeing Kova for nearly two weeks affected me in ways I couldn't explain. Missing him left a profound ache in me that worsened with every second that passed. I thought about him every day. With him sitting so close, I wanted desperately to run to him and never let go.
God, I hoped he felt the same way.
I stared at him, not caring if Dad or Sophia were watching me. Our love was real, but something in my gut pulled on the knots tighter the longer I watched him. He didn't look my way. I stared at him, willing him to look at me. We'd have to choose between being in love and simply breathing. I knew it in my heart we would. We wouldn't get both.
Kova always said timing was everything. He failed to mention our timing would never, ever be right. I looked away. Love and breathing went hand in hand for us. He exhaled and I inhaled. That would never change for us.
I loved my dad. I never wanted to hurt him. But if loving Kova meant I was stabbing Dad in the back, then I'd take the knife and have Dad face a mirror to watch me do it. This weekend was an important one, and I wasn't going to hold back just because he was here and watching like a hawk.
I was elite gymnast Adrianna Rossi, and he was gymnastics coach Konstantin Kournakova. We were going to do our thing. Together.
I allowed a small smile to bare my heart.
"Understand that I’m against this," Dad said, leaning over his shoulder to me. "Him being here doesn't change anything. Do you understand me? You'll still be watched, and you will be coming home after this meet."
We were sitting in first class while Kova and Madeline were in coach. She almost missed the flight but luckily made it just in time before the doors closed.
We hadn't talked about Kova showing up. Of course, it was on the tip of my tongue to ask every question that popped into my head the moment we took our seats. By the grace of God, I stayed quiet. Dad obviously knew Kova was coming, otherwise his reception would've been entirely different. So, I patiently waited.
It wasn’t until I'd fallen asleep and woken before our expected arrival, did Dad finally decide to speak to me.
"I've thought a lot about the things you said to me the other night. It stuck with me," he said, angling his body toward mine. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand. Sometimes he was nicer when he drank alcohol. "I've spoken to Sophia about it too. I'm sure she's ready to sew my mouth shut." I smiled at him, though it was small. "She reminded me that girls' emotions are heavier and deeper than boys', that your heart beats differently when you're…in love." He stopped and glared out the window, then looked back at me. "Adrianna, do not mistake him being here for anything other than him coaching you at a gymnastics meet. Nothing more. Sophia is not encouraging you to be around Kova, but she is a huge reason why he's here. I can't say that I don't agree, but I don't like it."
All I could do was nod my head furiously. Dad was finally telling me all the things I’d stressed about in my head.
"I'm not okay with this," he continued, "and I never will be, so don't forget that. I'd rather he not be here or within a thousand-mile radius of you, but I also don't want to be the one to ruin this opportunity for you by changing up your usual schedule. I thought having any coach with you wouldn't change a thing, but after speaking with Madeline too, she made it clear it's not the same."
I wondered when he spoke to Madeline and what they spoke about. Did she call him to say I wasn't giving my all this week? She couldn't have said I slacked, but I was a little slower…and I was withdrawn and feeling really far away mentally. Being my normal self required too much from me at the moment. I was suffering inside, and I didn't have the energy to fake it, so I didn't. I just kept to myself and tried to turn off everything else. I needed to stow my energy wisely. I had more than an injury and an illness trying to pull me down. I wondered if that was what she told him and why he had a change of heart.
"Does she know about the lupus and kidney disease? And…and what happened?"
I waited with a tight breath.
"No. She just updated me on how your arm was doing, among other things."
I exhaled. "Thank you."
Dad took a sip of his drink, finishing the contents, then signaled to the flight attendant for a refill. "Adrianna… That night, with your arm…"
Instinctively, I hugged my sore arm closer to my side.
He regarded me with grief in his eyes, then turned his gaze forward. "It makes me sick to think of the real damage I could've caused. I hate myself for it. I could’ve broken your arm." He dipped his chin and angled his head toward mine. "What you said about having to walk away from all of this for good struck a chord with me." Dad paused. "You’ve worked hard, you deserve this. What you're about to accomplish with your health in the state that it is, is monumental." His eyes softened with pride. "Despite the things I've said to you lately, and what's happened, I want to see you smiling out there, doing what you love to do. We only get one life, Adrianna. I don't want to lose you."
Tears threatened to spill as I took in my father. There were prominent lines around the corners of his mouth, and dark circles hung beneath his eyes. He'd turned so haggard looking from this nightmare. My illness, my relationship with Kova, everything, it had all thrown a curveball his way.
I leaned into Dad, wrapping my free arm around him. He reciprocated the hug. Sometimes less was more, and in this moment, I felt that.
"Thank you, Dad."
Sixteen
Yawning, I stepped from the car in my World Cup sweat suit and laid the duffle bag strap across my chest. It was day one of competition and I started it with a low-grade fever, stiff joints, and a lot of shit on my mind. I had a hotel room to myself, which Dad hadn’t been happy about. Thankfully, Madeline had reminded him of the rules. Gymnasts weren't allowed to communicate with family or friends the night before. It helped to prevent outside noise from messing with our heads before the meet.
I stepped over the threshold into the main arena. Cool air enveloped me, invigorating each fiber in my body. My eyes were everywhere, trying to take in the room all at once. The place was gigantic and easily housed thirty thousand people. There were massive rectangular banners hanging across the second floor in the middle of the room from the previous years. I blinked in disbelief, not quite grasping I was at the Olympic Trials. So many great hopefuls were in this room. I was among the best of the best in the entire country. I inhaled a deep breath and drew the trace of chalk into my lungs. I held it and smiled to myself. My love for the sport was finally overcoming the shitstorm in my head and taking over.
Following Madeline, I maneuvered through a maze of leotards and slicked back ponytails to look for Kova. I wouldn’t deny the fact that seeing him spurred a trail of excitement through me. I’d hoped to see him, or at least talk to him last night, but Dad had quickly doused that with his threat to stick a piece of tape on my door to know if I’d snuck out.
"This is such an exciting day for you. Kova mentioned changing the dismount on one of your routines because of the recent rule change."
I nodded… Then I spotted Kova before he saw me.
His h
ead was bent as he scribbled something onto a yellow legal pad. His wide stance and beautifully carved shoulders combined with his commanding aura capitulated my heart into my throat. He was in the zone and I loved that. It did strange things to my heart. Would the sight of him ever get old? Or would it increase over time?
"Adrianna's here. I'll see you in a few, Kova. I’m off to get an updated schedule of events," Madeline said, then sprinted off in the other direction.
I drank him in, not worried in the least that someone would see the way my love for him shone. His hand slowed, and he stilled. I chewed on my lip waiting as a veil of familiarity brought me home.
He lifted his eyes, and I caught the faintest curl at the corners of his lips.
"Malysh."
Warm-ups had been tough, both physically and mentally. By sheer determination and stubbornness, and a strong bout of tunnel vision, I got through them. Anytime my hips had swiveled a little more than necessary to one side, shooting pain would spear my pelvis, robbing me of breath. And the pressure and pounding my elbow had taken with every tumbling pass or vault felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. The pain had been nauseating. But I’d grinded my teeth and kept going.
Now, as the competition was in full swing, I watched all the young gymnasts who seemed free from restraint and moved as fluid as water, and it messed with my head a little.
"Where did you go?" Kova asked, breaking my thoughts.
I shook my head and stared down at the floor. I think what he really meant to say was, "What the fuck happened out there?"
"Nowhere. I'm just thinking."
Friction radiated off him over my mistake, though he didn't say anything. We walked side by side toward the end of the runway for my second vault of the evening. The first attempt had ended with me on my butt, which would cost me big time. The blind landing was already difficult to begin with, but when I didn't get enough air and dropped my hips and then opened too late, there was no saving it.
"Your form was loose, and you did not block hard enough. Is it because of your arm?"
