Dismount (Off Balance Book 5)

by Lucia Franco

  I could hardly breathe. Kova's eyes were on mine, but he wasn't looking at me. He seemed distant even though he was right in front of me. My chest rose and fell, tight with the panic that he no longer wanted me in his arms.

  "What…what's wrong?" I asked.

  I'd never felt him like this, so withdrawn from even himself. It scared me.

  "Nothing," he said under his breath. "I just want to look at you."

  His hands squeezed my hips, his fingers clenching my twisted shirt in his hands now. Kova was nervous. I didn't like the feeling closing in on me at seeing him like that. It made my stomach ache, like a negative intuition I feared to acknowledge. It lit up through me, but I doused the paranoia and pressed closer to him. I wasn't supposed to hurt when I was in his arms, and I was going to prove to myself it was all in my head.

  "Kiss me," I said quietly. I wanted his lips on mine, but I wanted more to see his reaction.

  Kova let go of my shirt and placed his palm around the side of my neck. My knees were weak with him this close. Something so simple caused a surge of feeling to rush through me. His thumb caressed my jaw, and his lips parted, but he didn't move. All Kova did was look at me like he was suffering inside.

  If he wasn't going to kiss me, then I would kiss him. I would show him that despite everything, I was still his and he was still mine and we would get through this.

  I leaned into him and felt his palm press against my chest.

  My breath hitched in my throat.

  I blinked, and frowned.

  Kova. Stopped. Me.

  My frowned deepened.

  Kova didn't want to kiss me.

  I reared back, my eyes as round as a full moon. I stared at him. Surprisingly, his gaze didn't waver, but he was sad and confused, filled with indecision.

  We'd come so far. This didn't make sense. He wasn't supposed to look at me like that.

  Oh, God.

  I was going to be sick.

  It wasn't supposed to be like this.

  He was supposed to crush his stupid fish lips to mine and kiss me like I meant everything to him. He was supposed to tell me we'd get through this. He was supposed to tell me he loved me, damn it.

  My hands fell from around him and I stepped back. My legs shook. A numbing low vibration spread beneath my skin. It made me jittery as hell. I needed to get out of here before I threw up. Kova didn’t want me anymore, and I wasn't sure how to handle it.

  "I have to leave," I said.

  A string of Russian flew from his lips as I reached for the doorknob behind me. Kova's arms flew up to the sides of my head and caged me in. I looked up at him, confused, and held my breath. He couldn't tear his eyes from mine. Kova stepped closer until I was forced to press against the door. I was confused, yet I couldn't stop myself from relishing the feel of his body on mine. A gush of air rolled off my lips. He was touching me, he was right in front of me, and yet he wasn't, but now he wasn't letting me leave.

  Kova pressed his forehead to mine and let out a shaky sigh. He was struggling and I hated that after we'd come so far.

  "Do not ever second-guess my love for you again," he said, then smashed his lips to mine.

  Tears climbed my eyes. My jaw trembled and I broke down seeing the insult in his wounded gaze. I couldn’t help but cry against his mouth. I felt guilty for doubting his love after he'd told me countless times how much I meant to him. The first opportunity to question him, and I slipped into a coma of insecurity.

  "Please, do not cry," he said, then kissed me again. Kova's lips were on mine, but he wasn't there.

  "Then kiss me like you mean it," I begged.

  "Devil, strike me down," he whispered so low that I almost missed it.

  His lips stroked mine with despair, but his tongue didn't penetrate. He breathed against me, and I begged for any ounce of proof that he still loved me.

  Kova tugged my top lip between his as he wrapped his arm around the small of my back. He pulled me flush against him and held on to me with his warm body. I wanted so badly to take the lead, but I needed some sort of signal from him that we were okay so I could put those thoughts to rest. I needed to see if what I was fearing was all in my head, or if my worst nightmares were true, and I was losing him."

  He proved me wrong.

  Kova's tongue licked past the seam of my lips with a sigh. He leaned into me and let go of whatever he was holding on to, kissing me like he meant it. His tongue fondled mine, his teeth were sharp nibbles on my lips. He made sure his mouth consumed every breath of air I had. He took and took and took, and I loved that he did because I loved his fiery passion and the way it made me tingle everywhere. His shaking hands gripped every inch of skin he could touch, his nails dug into my skin as he lost himself in us.

  This was my Kova. The Kova my heart beat fiercely for.

  His hands slid down to the back of my thighs. Kova lifted me up and pressed my back to the door. I melted against his strong chest, loving how he held me in his arms. Sex with Kova was electrifying, but kissing Kova was something entirely different that I wasn't sure how to put into words. A kiss was more intimate. A kiss was unspoken words tangled with raw feeling. It brought you closer to someone. It was how I learned to understand Kova.

  We needed this moment to know that we still had each other to get through this.

  My legs wrapped around his waist as he deepened the kiss and made love to me this way, telling me he was still there when I thought for a moment he wasn't.

  "I missed you so much," I said in between kisses.

  His hand came up to press against my throat. I swallowed, remembering how much he liked that. Vibrant green eyes stared back at me before roaming over every inch of my face. His jet-black lashes lowered, his thumb smoothed over my neck and jaw, then to my lips, like he was finger painting them. His tongue dragged over his bottom lip as he leaned in to steal another kiss from me.

  "Not more than I missed you," he said.

  "I thought you might hate me for what happened."

  His eyes snapped to mine, his brows angled toward each other. "Impossible."

  "Where's your wedding ring?"

  His callused thumb was still on my throat like he wanted to feel me talk. "I do not know." When I didn't say anything, he said, "I threw it out the window while I was driving." His voice was low, guttural when he spoke. "It is of no value to me and a reminder of the mistake I made."

  "Oh." I wasn't expecting that.

  "I know you have your appointment and a few things to wrap up here, but I need to hold you for just a moment longer." He paused and carried us to his desk where he sat on top of it with me wrapped around him. "We have to talk."

  Dread coiled inside of me.

  Four words, that when put together, could quintessentially make or break a relationship. I tried not to think the worst like I had earlier, and hoped for the best.

  My head fell forward and rested on the honey curve of his neck.

  "When we arrive in Texas tomorrow, there will be a full health scan by the Olympic coaches and the governing bodies. They look for all unauthorized medication that enhances performance." He tightened his arms. "I know you do not want anyone to know about your health right now, but they will discover the medications in your blood. They are going to question you."

  I stared at his neck, unblinking. "What if they think I'm using steroids or something?"

  "They will not. I have already checked all of your medications against the list."

  My brows furrowed. Lifting my head, I looked at him. "How? You don't know them."

  His fingers twirled a lock of my auburn hair. Tugging on the strand he was looking at, he said, "When I called Frank and spoke to him about the universities, I mentioned this issue as well. He gave me a list and we both agreed that you need a printed copy of your medical records from all doctors. I informed him that the Olympic doctors and media news stations will learn of the kidney disease and lupus. They will no doubt talk about it."

  I swallowed hard.
"What do you think the worst is that can happen?" My fingers rubbed over his skin. "I'm nervous now. I didn't even think about them finding out."

  One corner of his mouth twitched. "Nothing other than you will most likely have more cameras in your face than other gymnasts, and more questions to answer. Probably more screenings. I do not want you to fear the worst or think that you will be treated any differently when we get to Texas. Believe me, the coaches will not go easy on you and they will not feel bad in the least. They have a one-track mind and all they see is gold. They will demand your blood and sweat. But I want you to be prepared beforehand to talk about it."

  "Thank you for warning me. You know I don't like talking about it. It makes me feel like a walking disease. I mean, I am, but I feel like all eyes are on me now and I hate that feeling. I think this might be harder for me than the actual Games."

  Kova eyed me cautiously.

  "I want you to think of it as a story of both survival and inspiration, nothing else," he said, but his voice was too distant again for my liking. "That is what you are, Adrianna. You are an inspiration. You may not see it now, but one day a young gymnast will look up to you for your strength and fight, using your story as her motivation. Do not get caught in your emotions thinking the worst. Not only did you make the team, you made it while having lupus and kidney disease. That is not something to just be proud of, but to wear with pride. People will talk regardless. Who gives a shit? Do not let that take away from what you are about to do."

  My lips twitched for a second. He said shit with a heavier than usual Russian accent.

  "Why didn't you give an opinion when I asked about colleges? You know what you think matters to me. I want your insight."

  He kissed the top of my head. "I don't want you to make a decision based on what I say."

  "I won't. I'm just curious. I'm sure you know more about the schools than I do anyway."

  Kova sighed deeply. "UCLA is a fantastic school, the team is top-notch. The head coach is someone I could see working well with you. She is known for bringing out the best in gymnasts and giving them time to find where they shine most. However, after all you have been through, what you will undergo soon, I am not sure competition on all four events is wise. You hate balance beam. Why waste your time and energy on something you dislike when you can spend it on something you love and excel at?"

  Kova made a valid point, but I also liked to challenge myself. Plus, if I was taking a year off to recover, then I could possibly do all four events.

  "Florida and Oklahoma are both neck and neck," he continued. "I personally love watching you on floor. Yes, vault and bars are where you outdo every competitor, but you come alive on floor, so I am leaning toward Oklahoma. With that all being said, given your health, Florida is an ideal choice for you."

  My finger traced back and forth over his collarbone. I noticed he didn't suggest Georgia. My intuition told me he didn't want to make it seem like he was asking me to stay back and that was why he didn't bring it up.

  Goose bumps prickled my skin as I touched him. Kova rested his cheek on the top of my head. I realized this was all it took for me—a stolen moment with him that settled my nerves.

  Twenty-Seven

  "I think your best option at this point is to forgo dialysis and schedule the transplant surgery immediately following the Olympics."

  Puzzled, I sat staring at Dr. Kozol as if he'd just spoken a foreign language and expected me to understand and respond to it. The plan was originally to begin dialysis so I could allow my body time to rest and heal from gymnastics before I jumped into surgery. I knew eventually I had to get the transplant, just not so soon.

  "I don't understand," I said, confusion shifting through me. I thought I was doing okay, better than I had in a long time. I felt okay, not worse. "I was going to move after the Olympics, possibly to another state. I thought I would continue our treatments there, just long distance. Now I need to schedule surgery immediately? What happened to dialysis?"

  While I hadn't had time to give it thought considering how fast my life was moving lately, I knew accepting a place on one of the college teams was next on my list. If I had surgery, the offer might be retracted. A decision needed to be made soon even though I’d only just learned of the proposals.

  It'd be what I worked for, my incentive to get better.

  Not to mention, Avery had to prepare too. Was there even enough time for both of us to get on the same schedule? Anxiety gripped me. This was getting more real by the minute.

  Avery was going to college. Did that mean she needed to take a leave of absence? I couldn't do that to her, especially not her freshman year. Maybe a summer surgery would work. That way we both could rest and heal properly. This summer was too late, it would have to be next year.

  Clearing my throat, I continued. "Were my test results not what you expected?"

  "They're not where I hoped you'd be at this point. You're responding to the medication, but your body is fighting it, and though the decline is slow, it’s steady. The longer you go without surgery, the more wear and tear you're doing to your body even though you can't physically see it. You need to really consider surgery immediately upon returning. You don't want to get to the point where you'll be too far gone."

  While Dr. Kozol had seen me when I was in the hospital, he hadn't been able to run the tests he typically did. When I got here, he had vials of blood drawn and tested in his office, some sent out to the lab, along with X-rays and ultrasounds on various organs. He left no stone unturned. I'd sat for hours in his office thinking he'd tell me one thing only to surprise me with something else.

  I glanced down at my lap. My fingers were twisted together, my nailbeds a pale pink. This was not what I was expecting. That changed a lot for me. I wouldn't be able to do that and move at the same time.

  "How would this work if I move out of state?"

  Dr. Kozol stared at me for an uncomfortable moment. "Where are you planning to go?" I listed the schools I was offered a scholarship to and told him the training hours were not nearly as grueling. His bushy brows rose. "So, you're going to continue with gymnastics?"

  I nodded, and his eyes bore deeper into mine. I felt like he was silently ridiculing me, that I was reckless for my choices. He wasn't happy with me.

  "If it's possible, I'd like to. It's really the only motivation I have right now."

  "Have you considered speaking to a psychologist?"

  I grimaced. "No, I don't want to do that."

  The last thing I wanted to do was tell some stranger my problems and have them give me more pills to take. I was already on a daily cocktail of medication. I didn’t want to add more.

  "I'm concerned the illnesses have skewed your vision. You're not making wise decisions, Adrianna. Maybe you should really consider speaking to someone. You do realize you won't be able to do gymnastics this year if you have surgery, right? It's not physically possible."

  Of course, I was aware of that. I was aware of everything against me.

  I wasn't going to answer him. If I could do dialysis, then I'd be okay for a little while. He had to know that was the door I was going to walk through. At least that way everyone can get prepared and adjusted. That's what I told myself, anyway.

  "Wherever you decide to live, I'll put a team together for you. Everyone knows someone in this field, but I'll make sure I'm personally part of the new team, if you like." Dr. Kozol grimaced as he stacked the papers together. "Medically speaking, however, it's not wise. I just don't see how you're going to be able to come back with the thunder you need to train, even if the hours are less and the routines are not as demanding. Transplant recovery is going to take months for you to heal. Then you have to build yourself back up, and then start training. I'm concerned you're going to break your body back down and we'll have to start over. We don't want that. We only want to go up from here."

  "But it's doable?" I asked, hopeful.

  "I can't recall seeing anyone do it, but that doesn't mea
n it's not possible." He paused. "I just have to ask something." I nodded, curious about what he wanted to know. "Is gymnastics really worth risking your life for? Really think about that question. You're young. Why are you trying to destroy yourself? You wear yourself down by playing a sport. Once you reach stage five, which you aren't far from, that's it, Adrianna. You can kiss gymnastics goodbye and live out your days in a hospital bed." He studied me. "I don’t understand why you want to do that. You’ll make your life so much harder."

  My eyes dropped to the floor. I didn't have a death wish. I guess I just didn't like my life and strived for a better life. It bothered me that something that couldn't be seen could dictate so much in my life.

  "If we're not going to schedule your transplant right after, then we need to start you on dialysis. I want you on a plane back here within two days after the Olympics. Otherwise, I'm going to have to resign as your doctor. The risk is too great, and you've not yielded to the treatment I've devised for you. I've done everything I can for you up until now—I've waited long enough."

  If I did what he said, that meant I wouldn't be able to do the promo tours with the Olympic team after. My heart crumbled a little.

  "I'm not trying to be defiant and I don't want to die. I guess it's the one thing I have control over. It's the one thing that truly makes me happy. Without gymnastics, I don't know who I am. I don't know how to live or what to do."

  "That's because you haven't given yourself time to live," he said sympathetically. "Give yourself time to recover properly and then weigh your choices. After that, you can decide what you want to live for. You'll have all the time in the world during recovery to find who you are and what you want to do."

  Quietly, I said, "I don't know how to live without gymnastics if I quit. Gymnastics is who I am."

  "You don't have to quit. There are other ways to be involved in the sport. You need to get better first and then sort out your future. But with these kind of results after months and months of powerful medications"—he tapped the paper—"you’re knocking on death’s door. Your kidney function is already extremely low. You're pushing the limit. If you drop to fifteen percent, you'll need emergency surgery. Just attending college is going to be difficult in general with the side effects of dialysis. You need to seriously weigh your pros and cons."