Chapter 2
HANNAH
“You’re late,” Coach Rodier says without looking at me as I jog into the gym.
Outside, the sun has only just risen, but in here it’s already a flurry of activity. Elite gymnasts ranging in ages from fourteen to late twenties are spread out around the huge gym, putting in the work to be the best. I know because that’s why I’m here.
Coach Rodier stands next to the balance beam where Hope Young, a shoo-in for the next Winter Games, is practicing her routine.
I pause, facing him. It’s one past the hour, but he is technically correct. “I know. Sorry, Coach.”
A deep groove forms between his brows as he flicks his attention from Hope to me. He has a thick gray mustache that hides his upper lip, but I don’t need to fully see his mouth to know he’s frowning at me.
“You say that you want to be the best, yet this is the third time this week you’ve been the last one to arrive.” His French accent is thicker when he’s annoyed, which he clearly is with me now.
I swallow the urge to explain myself to him. He isn’t interested in my excuses. I learned that the first time I was late and apologized, noting my Jeep had broken down on the way to the gym. His response was a glare that made my breakfast curdle in my stomach.
“It won’t happen again.” It’s a vow I make to myself more than to him.
He doesn’t acknowledge my response before turning back to Hope, in time to watch her execute a flawless dismount. For once, I’m happy to have him ignore me.
I hurry to the far back corner where I drop my duffel bag and take a seat on the floor. I’m unzipping my jacket when Kinsley walks over wide-eyed but smiling.
“Wow. You really know how to make an entrance.” Her voice is rough and gritty, like she spent a past life as a sultry singer in a seedy nightclub but is filled with amusement as she comes to sit beside me.
“He hates me.”
“He hates everyone.”
It isn’t true, but he does have an air of irritation and frustration about him. He is one of the best coaches in the sport. He’s tough on his athletes but he puts in more hours in this gym than anyone, and the results speak for themselves. The biggest names in gymnastics trust him.
He’s the reason I moved to Moonshot. Coach Rodier and the Premier Gymnastics Center. Only the best train here. And the truly fortunate have him as their coach.
With the help of my agent, I managed to get a temporary placement while I prepare for the Winter Classic in February.
Four months at the top gym in the country.
And at the end of a six-week trial, he’ll decide whether to take me on as a client.
That trial ends in two weeks, which means I don’t have much time left to show him what I’m capable of—or could be capable of.
He only takes a few girls each year, so my chance is slim.
I’ve known that from the start, but I need him too badly to give up.
At twenty-three, I’m already old by gymnast standards.
I don’t have a lot of time left, but I’m certain I still have more to accomplish before I retire, and I know he’s the one that can help me get there.
“I saw him crack a smile with Coach Liz yesterday,” I tell her.
“No way!” She lets her jaw drop in mock surprise. “He is human. Who knew?”
I let out a deep, cleansing breath. The weight of the past three days lessens just a tiny bit.
“So where were you?” Kinsley asks.
I slide my gaze to her.
“I know you wouldn’t suffer Coach Rodier’s wrath without a very good reason.”
A mixture of anger and embarrassment rushes through me and my face heats.
“What?” Kinsley asks, sitting forward. She lowers her voice. “Did you finally go out with that guy from the dating app. Sam or Saul or…”
“Seth,” I correct her, then shake my head. “No.”
Her head moves in a circle as if to say, Then what possible reason do you have for being late again?
“I spent the night in jail,” I mutter quietly, but the shame of speaking it out loud is deafening.
“I’m sorry. I must have heard you wrong because it sounded like you said you spent the night in jail.”
I can’t bear to repeat it, so I look up at her, jaw set, so I don’t do something really embarrassing like cry in the gym. Coach Rodier would probably have me banned for life. I can just hear him saying in his French accent, There’s no crying in gymnastics!
Kinsley’s mouth opens and closes several times before she ekes out another reply. “How does Miss I Won’t Even Pick Up Spare Change Off the Street Because It Doesn’t Belong to Me get arrested?”
Oh god. That’s another word I hoped to never have associated with myself.
I wasn’t technically arrested since I went to the police station willingly, hoping to clear up the situation.
It still doesn’t feel real although the icky feeling of sitting in that building all night certainly does.
I’m going to need several more showers before I’ve washed off all the ick.
“Let me rephrase, I spent the night at the jail. I wasn’t behind bars or anything that tragic.”
Her inquisitive expression doesn’t waver until I continue.
“You know the house I found to rent?”
“Yeah.” She nods along, still leaning forward in rapt interest.
“Well, I went by last night to bring over some of my stuff and check it out. The leasing agent said he’d leave the key under the mat for me, only there wasn’t one.
” God, just thinking about it has me irritated all over again.
It has been hell trying to find lodging since I moved to Moonshot.
At first it was tourist season, so nothing was available.
Kinsley and her girlfriend let me crash with them while I looked for a place.
But as we’ve moved into fall and things are opening up, I have discovered a new problem.
I can’t afford anything. Or I couldn’t. Until this short-term lease came up.
“I tried to call and text the guy and he just kept saying ‘It’s under the mat. I left it there myself.’” Which essentially meant, Look harder, idiot. I did. I looked everywhere. I glance away from her as I say, “So I checked the windows…”
Kinsley’s face morphs slowly, a smile inching higher and higher, and then eyes twinkling until she finally bursts into laughter.
“It was unlocked so it wasn’t like I broke in or anything,” I defend myself, the same way I had last night to the police officer who showed up at the house, but it only makes her laugh harder.
“I’m sorry. Oh my gosh.” She struggles to catch her breath. She stops laughing but she’s still smiling so wide that it feels inevitable that the rest of the story will send her off again. “And then what happened?”
“A neighbor must have seen me and called the police. I tried to explain everything, but the leasing guy started ghosting me. Since I couldn’t get a hold of him to prove my story, I ended up sitting in the police station all night.”
“You poor thing.” Her smile falls.
“We got it sorted out. Finally. Apparently, my leasing agent has Do Not Disturb on his phone after ten o’clock at night so he only got my last hundred messages this morning.”
“I fucking hate DND mode. Why do people need boundaries?”
A small chuckle slips from my lips and I feel the tiniest bit better.
“Are you okay? It’s been a hell of a week. Your Jeep, the drama with Wren’s roommate, now this.”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” I am determined to push all that from my mind today. The past month has been one distraction after another. I moved to Moonshot to prove myself, and it feels like the universe is doing everything in its power to remind me that no matter what I do, I can’t make up for the past.
“Avoid it all and deal later?” she asks, picking up on my intent.
“Yes, please.”
She stands and offers me her hands, then pulls me to my feet. “Let’s do this thing, Walsh.”
Working out with Kinsley is a nice consolation to working with Coach Rodier. While my emphasis is bars, she is a beast on floor and vault. I still have a long way to go to be competitive in those events, but my floor in particular has improved a lot already with her pointers.
She sits on the sideline watching me as I go through the routine. It’s late afternoon and the gym is starting to clear out as gymnasts and coaches alike finish for the day.
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I hit my final pose. My chest heaves as I catch my breath. My front foot wobbles and then slides forward an inch.
“Feet drilled into the floor, Hannah,” Coach Rodier’s voice bellows from behind me.
I spin around to face him. I hadn’t realized he was still here, though I should have.
“Yes, Coach.” I wait, greedy for any more tidbits he might be willing to share. I once heard that the way you know a coach has given up on you completely is when they stop offering feedback. He still hasn’t agreed to coach me, but I’ll live in the hope that he hasn’t written me off yet either.
He walks off the gym floor without another word. Kinsley comes to stand next to me.
“Look at that. He doesn’t hate you after all.” She elbows me in the side.
One side of my mouth lifts in a half smile.
“That was really good,” she says. “I’d kill for your split leap.”
“Don’t do that. After spending the night hanging out at the jail, I can assure you it isn’t a place you want to go.”
“Oh good, we’re joking about it now because I have been holding in so many things today.” Her eyes lift as she grins.
“I hate you,” I say with a chuckle.
She hunches over with a laugh as we walk to our duffel bags in the back corner.
“Do you want to come over tonight? Skylar’s cooking and we’re doing a wine tasting.”
I arch a brow. “Wine tasting?”
I’ve seen their fridge and liquor cabinet, and they’re more vodka and mixer people.
“We bought five different bottles of merlot ranging from fifty dollars to six and we’re going to see if we can tell the difference between the fancy and cheap stuff.”