Chapter 29
Teagan
She’s not going to stick it, I think to myself as I watch Zoey’s body twist and turn in her first stunt of her floor routine. Her body’s moving too fast, without control.
That’s the fastest way to injure yourself and ensure you don’t land your tricks, which is one of the most important parts of gymnastics.
If you can’t stick it, you’re screwed.
I watch as Zoey comes down and stumbles a few feet from where she should’ve landed.
“Ugh,” she groans loudly as she falls to the ground and rests her forehead there. I walk over to her and crouch down beside her.
“You need to remember control,” I tell her calmly, not in the chastising tone I was trained in.
“I couldn’t slow down.” She breathes in and out with deep breaths.
I plop down beside her, sitting crisscross on the mat. “It’s not easy, and I get that you want to be the best by doing impressive stunts. But if you can’t land them, you’re better off doing a safe cookie-cutter routine. At least that way you won’t injure yourself and you might place on the podium.”
“Coming from you? You’re the gymnast who does the riskiest tricks and look how far it got you, winning gold in all categories.
That’s what I want.” She looks up to face me now, the sheer look of determination on her face nearly startling me, because it’s exactly how I imagine I used to look at her age.
“I’m not saying don’t do them at all. I’m saying you need to control them, or else you might never compete again.” I lay it out straight with her, my tone even and firm.
Looking straight ahead, she takes a deep breath, then slowly turns to face me, her voice low as she says, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been focusing today. I know I can do better with my control.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, curious as to why she can’t seem to focus today.
Zoey sighs, her brown eyes rolling. “It’s just about a stupid boy.”
“Oh,” I say, sounding surprised at the fact that she wants to tell me this. “I’m here if you want to talk,” I add, feeling slightly uncomfortable, because I’ve never had a child confide in me before and I don’t want to mess this up.
She runs a hand over her ponytail, seeming embarrassed. “I had a date with Harry at the movies, but he never showed up. I’ve been texting him to ask what happened, but he hasn’t answered my texts.”
“Have you seen him on campus today?” I ask.
“Yeah, he seemed fine when I saw him in our chemistry class this morning. But he didn’t even look at me,” she says, her voice low and filled with embarrassment as she averts her gaze.
My heart feels for her because getting left hanging like that is never a good feeling. Although I’ve never experienced it with a boy, I understand the feeling of being abandoned without an explanation and it fucking sucks feeling forgotten about.
Since she felt comfortable enough to confide in me, I figure she might be seeking some words of wisdom.
“Want my advice?”
“Please,” she replies, her eyes alighting with hope.
“You’re only seventeen and have a whole life ahead of you. Being stood up stings and it’s perfectly normal to be mad, cry, or even scream about it. But then let it go. Imagine if your future daughter told you the same thing. What would you tell her?”
“To leave his dumb ass behind and move on.”
“Exactly. You deserve better. Never let a man ruin something that’s important to you. He can go kick rocks,” I tell her, not wanting her to fixate on this forever, hoping she’ll move on.
Zoey smiles feebly. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Anytime,” I reply with a soft smile of my own.
A sense of pride settles within me that I was a safe space for her.
That we have a good student-teacher relationship.
It makes me hopeful that I’m going to be good at being a mom, seeing as I was able to make Zoey feel better about her situation.
While I was initially nervous to offer the space for her to talk about it, because I wasn’t sure if I could be helpful, it ended up working out better than I thought.
Class seems to fly by as I help one girl with her balance beam dismount, another with her vault routine. The entire time, I find myself in the zone, not thinking about anything other than helping my students.
I guess you could say I’ve become comfortable in my position here at ESA… I even enjoy it.
Hell, I look forward to it, if I’m being honest. I love watching my students progress and break through on a tough skill, and helping them create routines based on their skills.
And the students aren’t the worst. Sometimes they drive me crazy, especially the little ones. But I find that I let it go pretty easily. I don’t let it get to me and I’m able to leave work at work when I leave for the day.
Once all the girls are gone, I head to my office and grab my purse as I’m meeting my brother on my lunch break today.
He called me a few days ago, wanting to get together to see how I’m doing, so this is the best option, seeing as I want to avoid hanging out with him at Clara’s.
He’s too inquisitive, and I know he’ll figure out that I’m not really staying there.
It takes me less than an hour with traffic to meet at the lunch spot my brother picked. Ian’s already waiting for me inside, sitting at a table for two near the front window. I push through the door, heading toward him.
As soon as he sees me approach the table, he stands and pulls me into a hug. “How are things?” he asks when we take our seats.
“Things are good, and you?”
“You know I’m always good. How’s my niece or nephew doing?” he asks, always checking in on us.
“The baby is good. I’m fourteen weeks now. And no, I’m not ready to tell you who the father is yet,” I tell him, already knowing what question is coming next.
He groans a frustrated sigh. “C’mon, Teagan. I don’t get what the difference is in telling me now or later?”
I swallow my water, wishing he’d just leave me alone about this. But my brother is stubborn, with a capital S.
“And I don’t get why it matters to you so much?” I fire back at him. I’ve only been here for two minutes and I’m already over this conversation. I thought he may not say anything, considering everything that happened with my apartment…but I should have known he’s not one to let things go.
“Because we’re the only family we have. We tell each other everything. Wouldn’t you want to know who the mother of my child was if I was having a baby?” he points out, head tilted as he looks at me with a raised brow.
“Whatever,” I say flippantly, even though he’s irritatingly right.
I’d be feeling the exact way if he didn’t tell me who was carrying my future niece or nephew.
But I don’t want to deal with telling him about Quentin and the repercussions that would follow.
“You’re still not finding out until I’m ready.
Now unless you want me to leave before we even order, therefore starving your future niece or nephew, then drop it. ”
He doesn’t say anything, his go-to reaction when he’s pissed off, but doesn’t want to piss me off further.
I guess it was our mother we both inherited our attitude from because we’re like two peas in a pod when it comes to that. It’s funny how someone can never be present in your life and still affect it so deeply.
“I’ll take a grilled cheese with tomato soup,” he tells our waiter, making me snicker.
He glares at me as I order a veggie sandwich with a garden salad.
“Still always ordering the grilled cheese, huh?” I taunt him once the waiter leaves with our orders. Ever since I can remember, Ian’s always loved grilled cheese, eating it whenever possible.
“Why try something else when I know what I like?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re boring?”
“Yeah, you. At least once, daily,” he deadpans, making me laugh.
Ian may be straitlaced, grumpy, and too protective, but he’s been the only constant in my life other than our grandparents.
“How’s living at Clara’s? Are you going to look for a house soon?” He follows up, making my limbs tighten up. He knows me better than anyone, and I hate lying to him.
“It’s going. It’s not her primary home, so I’ve gotten comfortable there. I don’t need a place right now.” I try to play it off as much as I can.
“Teagan. You’re having a baby soon. You need your own place. I could help if you just let me.”
He’s been texting me, begging me to let him contact his realtor to get me a house.
But each time I decline, because Quentin’s right.
Moving into, decorating, setting up a nursery all while working and growing this baby, sounds like a lot of added stress that I don’t need.
And the idea of having in-house help once the baby is here is something I didn’t know I’d want, so living with Quentin until after a few months post-birth seems like the best thing to do.
“I have time. I’m not due until January. Let me just get through the summer living there, and then we can talk, okay?”
The waiter comes back with our food, giving me a few seconds to breathe before he starts questioning me again.
“I still don’t understand why you won’t just live with me,” he grumbles when he leaves.
“Because I like my personal space.”
Although that’s not entirely a lie, I have to admit that living with Quentin isn’t all that bad.
He makes me dinner daily where we spend time talking about our days, we crack jokes as we work on our puzzle, and enjoy the occasional dance break together.
When he’s on the road, he not only texts me to check in, he also makes sure to prepare a sweet treat before he goes just in case I get a craving for something sweet, which seems to be the case as of late.
And when he’s home, things are easy between us.
So easy that keeping our distance is proving to be harder and harder. Especially since that almost kiss the other day.