Chapter 8
TALON
The sharp bite of chlorine filled my lungs as I inhaled, rolling my shoulders out one more time.
The pool deck buzzed with movement—teammates warming up, coaches barking last-minute reminders, the starter’s whistle cutting through it all.
I’d been here a hundred times before, but today felt different.
Because she was here.
I hadn’t spotted Livvi right away, not until I was behind the block.
She’d slipped in quietly, no sign, no banner, no shouting—just there, sitting halfway up the bleachers with her hands folded in her lap.
For a second, a band seemed to cinch around my lungs with something I couldn’t name.
Gratitude, maybe. It had been a long time since anyone outside my team had shown up just for me.
My mom was out of the picture, and my dad hadn’t been to a meet in years.
The whistle sounded again, and I climbed up on the block. And though I’d heard it what felt like a million times, the words take your mark always sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. Once the buzzer went off, the world narrowed to the water in the lane before me.
I dove, slicing into the pool, cool and familiar.
My muscles engaged automatically, years of training taking over.
Stroke, breathe, kick—my body knew what to do.
The sound of the crowd blurred into muffled echoes above the surface, replaced by the rush of water in my ears and the hammer of my heartbeat.
Flip turn. Push. Streamline.
I kept my focus locked on the black line running beneath me, a metronome for every stroke. My lungs burned, my arms screamed, but that was normal. That was where I thrived.
And still, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew she was watching.
It didn’t feel like pressure. More like a distraction I didn’t mind having. Weird how knowing she was here made the laps feel sharper, like I wanted to hit the wall faster just because she’d see it.
The final wall came fast. I stretched, my fingertips hitting the pad. My chest heaved as I yanked off my cap, blinking up at the scoreboard.
Time: a new personal best.
The guys around me whooped, slapping the water in celebration, but my eyes strayed to the bleachers before I could stop myself.
Livvi was on her feet, clapping. Not loudly, not drawing attention. Just enough for me to know she’d seen it—and that she cared.
I didn’t get long to think about that, though. Butterfly was up next—the hundred. My race. The one I’d been grinding for all year, chasing a time that would put me in the conversation for making the USA team.
I rolled out my shoulders, feeling that familiar twitch in my muscles. The one that said everything I’d done in the weight room, in practice, in early mornings and late nights—this was where it had to come together.
“Yo, Talon,” Ledger said, walking toward me and scanning the stands. “Is one of those girls up there Library Girl?”
Ridge joined us, adjusting his cap and squinting toward the bleachers. “Yeah, man, give it up. Did she actually come, or were you making her up?”
“She came,” I said, sharper than I meant to, but it shut them up for a second. I exhaled and added, “Her name’s Livvi.”
Ledger’s grin spread slowly. “Livvi. Got it. So Livvi showed up to watch you swim? This must be serious.”
I shoved his shoulder and rolled my eyes.
Serious. The only thing I’d ever been serious about was swimming, and even that sometimes felt like it owned me more than the other way around.
I didn’t do anything serious with women—not really.
Never cared enough to let it overlap with the pool.
Inviting someone here? That was new. Weird.
And maybe I didn’t want to think too hard about why I’d asked her.
“Yeah, no pressure or anything,” Ridge chimed in with a smirk. “Just the most important race of your life and a woman in the stands batting her eyelashes at you.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, though my mouth twitched. Livvi wasn’t the eyelash-batting type. More like the stare-you-down-until-you-crack type.
Ledger clapped my shoulder, more serious this time. “Nah, for real. Swim your race, Talon. Show her what you can do.”
The words steadied me instead of piling on weight. Not pressure—fuel. A reminder that I wasn’t just chasing a time. I was ready to prove it, to myself, to my team … and yeah, maybe even to her.
I stepped up onto the block, lungs pulling in one last deep breath. My muscles coiled, tuned tight like a spring. Ledger’s words echoed in my head, sharpening my focus.
This wasn’t about nerves. This was about showing what I could do.
The buzzer sounded, and I exploded forward.
Water swallowed me whole, cold and electric.
Butterfly burned different than anything else.
Arms and chest catching fire by the halfway mark, lungs begging for more air than I could give.
It wasn’t about comfort; it was about rhythm.
Kick, pull, kick, pull, breathe. A fraction off and it would unravel.
I wasn’t thinking about times or cuts anymore—I was racing. I was flying.
I hit the wall for the turn, legs coiled, and exploded out again.
Every muscle screamed, but that was how I knew I was on pace.
Last twenty-five. Everything in me clenched, burned, begged to quit.
I didn’t. I never did. I drove harder, arms heavy but refusing to slow.
And somewhere in the blur above the water, I knew she was watching.
The final wall rushed up; I reached, my fingertips slamming the pad.
Chest heaving, I clung to the wall and yanked my eyes up to the scoreboard.
My time.
A breath I didn’t know I’d been holding ripped out of me. Not the time I had hoped for—not yet—but closer. Closer than I’d ever been.
My teammates were yelling, slapping the water, but all I heard was the pounding in my ears. And when I finally looked past the scoreboard to the stands, there she was—clapping again, a small grin tugging at her mouth like she might actually be impressed.
That was new.
I yanked my cap off and shook water from my hair, still buzzing from the race. My teammates swarmed me, slapping my back and yelling, but I barely heard them. My eyes scanned the stands—and there she was.
Livvi, already halfway to standing, like she was ready to slip out before I could reach her. That thought had my stomach dropping in a way I didn’t expect. I wasn’t letting her leave without a word.
“Livvi!” I barked over the commotion, grabbing the towel and slinging it over my shoulders.
Heads turned as people started patting me on the back, shouting congratulations. Handshakes, slaps, high fives—it was like wading through a river of well-wishers, each one slowing me down, testing my patience. I ducked under an arm, sidestepped a parent, and pushed past a teammate.
Finally, I made it to the railing. She froze, halfway to the aisle, caught before she could disappear.
“Hey,” I said, voice steady, effortless.
She glanced up at me, startled, and offered a small careful smile. “Hey.”
I leaned on the railing, towel falling loosely from my shoulders, letting the cocky smile I was known for (and assumed would simultaneously annoy her and intrigue her) come out. “You weren’t going to leave without saying hi, were you?”
Her eyebrows arched, that smile tugging wry at the edges. “You looked a little busy.” She nodded toward the pack of teammates still shouting my name.
I shrugged. “They’ll live. You, though? Would’ve broken my heart if you’d slipped out.”
Her lips pressed together like she was fighting whether to roll her eyes or laugh. “More like bruising your ego.”
“Guess you’ll never know now,” I said easily, enjoying the way her gaze flicked from mine to the floor and back again. She wasn’t used to being in this kind of spotlight, that much was obvious. But she hadn’t bolted yet. That counted for something.
“Well,” she said finally, adjusting the strap on her bag, “you swam great. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said, still holding her eyes. “Close, but not close enough. I’ll get there.”
Something subtly changed in her expression—just a flicker—but it affected me harder than all the cheers in the pool. Like she actually believed I would.
Before I could say more, someone shouted my name again from across the deck. She took that as her cue, giving me a quick nod. “See you around, Talon.”
And just like that, she slipped away into the crowd.
I didn’t chase her. I just stood there, dripping water onto the floor, grinning like an idiot. Because she’d come.
Ledger’s laugh carried over the noise of the crowd as I made my way back to the team. “Man, I don’t know. From where I was standing, she didn’t exactly look dazzled.”
Ridge smirked. “Yeah, if anything she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. That’s gotta sting, huh? You’re not used to women resisting the Everhart charm.”
I shot them both a flat look, my jaw ticking. “You two need new hobbies.”
Ledger held his hands up. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. Usually, women are lined up to throw themselves at you. Livvi? She looked like she might bolt before you even got out of the water.”
They weren’t wrong. I’d seen her glance at the exit more than once, like she couldn’t wait to escape. But instead of bruising my ego, it did the opposite. Lit something in me I hadn’t felt in a long time. A spark that wouldn’t let me ignore her.
I let a slow grin spread across my face. “Good thing I like a chase, then.”
Ledger and Ridge shared a look like they didn’t know what had gotten into me. Well, I didn’t know either. All I knew for sure was that Livvi had a way of not only pulling me in, but getting me to want to stay.
With the swim meet now over, I did a quick cool down before heading back to my apartment.