Chapter 11
TALON
My arms and legs throbbed by the time I hit the wall, every muscle screaming like they wanted me to quit. But I wouldn’t. Not with Coach Saunders standing at the edge of the pool, stopwatch in hand, her sharp eyes cutting into every stroke I took.
I yanked my goggles up and sucked in air, leaning against the tiled edge as the water dripped down my face. For a few seconds, I just stayed there, chest heaving, pretending the ache in my body was the only thing weighing me down.
Pulling myself up and out of the pool, I headed into the locker room, where I toweled off and checked my phone. Three missed calls lit up the screen.
Dad.
My stomach dropped. I hadn’t answered the last seven calls either.
And the voicemails … Gosh, there had to be at least twenty of them stacked up by now.
I didn’t even need to listen to know how they’d sound.
Him asking why I wasn’t calling back. Him reminding me of everything I wasn’t doing right.
Him making sure I knew that no matter how many races I won, it would never be important.
I dropped the phone face down on the bench, like that would silence the guilt clawing at me. For a second, I thought about calling him back. Just to get it over with. But my hands balled into tight fists at the thought, and I shoved the phone in my bag instead. Out of sight, out of mind.
At least until the next time he called.
As I walked out, Coach Saunders blocked my exit like she’d been waiting for me.
“Good work today, Talon,” she said. “You’re right there. I can feel it. Austin is your shot—this is the meet where you become the guy to beat, the swimmer everyone is going to be talking about.”
Austin. Just the word made my pulse spike.
The Pro Swim Classic wasn’t some small meet where the stands were half empty and the competition was familiar.
This was a national stage—Olympians, world-record holders, and the best swimmers in the country converging in one pool.
It was the kind of meet where your name got mentioned on broadcasts, where scouts and sponsors paid attention, where one good swim could change the trajectory of your career.
Bigger. Faster competition. More eyes on the deck.
And more pressure than ever to prove I belonged there.
She smiled, her voice full of certainty. I wished I felt half the confidence she did.
I nodded anyway, because that’s what she wanted from me. “Yeah. Austin.”
“You’ve been building for this. Trust your training. You’ll get it.” She clapped me on the shoulder, like it was that simple.
But as I left the pool, my gut twisted tighter.
On paper, I was ready. The work was there.
The times were close. But I knew myself too well.
One slip, one mental crack, and everything could unravel.
And the only thing worse than missing the time would be my dad’s voice on the other end of the line, telling me he knew it had all been a waste of time.
My head was buzzing, and thankfully my growling stomach broke through the noise. I needed food, and the closest thing was the Orange Blossoms Café, which was in walking distance. Once I’d gotten some food in me, then I could stress about my life.
Ten minutes later, I pushed open the door to the café, the place smelling like espresso and sandwiches. I scanned the room, looking for an open table—
—and stopped short when I saw her.
Livvi.
Was it a coincidence that I was running into her here again? Or had I been so into my own world, my own thoughts, that I hadn’t noticed her before?
I was definitely noticing her now. It had only been a few days since we’d hung out at the bar, but somehow she had gotten even more beautiful since then.
She sat in the corner booth, laptop open, earbuds in, her fingers flying over the keyboard. A half-empty latte sat next to her, and she had that focused look people get when they’re in their own little world.
I told myself to keep walking, order food, and leave her alone. But my feet didn’t listen.
“Hey,” I said, standing by her table.
Her head popped up, and when her eyes locked on mine, that same flicker I’d noticed at the bar was there again. Surprise, maybe. Or curiosity. Something I couldn’t find a word for but felt all the way to my toes.
“Talon.” She tugged out one earbud. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Yeah, same. I was just”—I gestured toward the counter—“bribing myself with caffeine and food after practice.”
Her lips curved like she was holding back a smile. “Rough day?”
“Something like that.”
Before I could say more, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Pulling it out, I glanced at the screen to see my dad calling.
I pressed the ignore button and put it back in my pocket.
Before I could even say another word, my phone buzzed again.
I reached into my pocket, silencing it again.
But only a couple seconds passed when it buzzed again.
Livvi’s brow lifted. “Do you need to get that?”
I sank into the seat across from her before I could change my mind. “Nah, it’s just my dad.”
The way her expression shifted—subtle, soft—told me she caught more in those words than I meant to let slip.
“Just your dad,” she repeated quietly. “Doesn’t sound like it’s just anything.”
Something inside me twisted, the kind of tightness I usually shoved down deep and drowned out with endless laps. But sitting across from her, with her steady gaze on me, I didn’t feel like I had to keep it locked up.
I gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Yeah. We don’t exactly … see eye to eye.”
“Like swimming?” she asked, probably remembering what I’d told her a few weeks ago at the library.
I could’ve brushed it off with a simple “yeah.” I almost did. But the way she was watching me—steady, curious, without judgment—made me want to say more than I should.
I dragged a hand through my hair. “Yes, swimming but also everything. My entire life plan, apparently. He’s got an idea of what success should look like, and what I’m doing isn’t it.”
“Has he always been against your swimming career?” she asked, like she was genuinely interested and looking to understand.
I exhaled, staring down at the table like the wood grain was suddenly fascinating. “No. My dad was the one who put me in the pool when I was little. He pushed me, helped train me, supported me all the way through high school. But when I wanted to swim in college, that’s when things … changed.”
Her brows pinched. “Changed how?”
“He wanted me to get a business degree, go into finance like him, follow the path he laid out. But I didn’t want that. I wanted swimming.” My laugh came out rough, without humor. “And he never forgave me for choosing the pool over spreadsheets.”
Her gaze softened, but she didn’t say anything right away, which made it easier to keep talking.
“I’m twenty-five now. This is it. My last shot at the Olympics.
Most swimmers peak way younger, and I’m already pushing past my prime.
If I don’t make it now, then …” Pressure built beneath my ribs.
“Then it’s over. I’m just the guy who wasted his twenties chasing a dream instead of building a career.
At least, that’s how my dad will see it. ”
Her voice was quiet but firm. “And how do you see it?”
That was the question I hated. The one that kept me up at night. The one I didn’t talk about. But for some reason, I was about to tell her.
“I don’t know.” My throat worked around the words.
“Some days, I still believe I can do it. That all the hours in the pool, all the sacrifices, will finally mean something. And other days …” I shook my head.
“Other days it feels like I’ve been swimming in circles my whole life, and the only thing waiting at the end is disappointment. ”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “That’s a lot to carry, Talon.”
I huffed out a laugh, but it came out more like a sigh. “Tell me about it.” I leaned back against the booth. “Sometimes it feels like my whole identity’s on a ticking clock. And when the buzzer goes off? What then? I’m just the guy who used to swim fast. Nothing more.”
A quiet settled around us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then she leaned forward, her voice low. “You’re more than that. I don’t even know you that well yet, but I can see it. You’ve got this drive, this … spark. You’re not just a stopwatch number.”
Something inside me pulled tight. Nobody ever said that to me. To most people, I was times on a board. A shot at medals. That was it.
The silence stretched for a beat, but it wasn’t heavy. It felt like she was actually holding space for me, like I didn’t have to fill it with excuses or bravado.
Then she tilted her head, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “You know what Dory from Finding Nemo says, right?”
That pulled a real laugh from me, short and surprised. “What, are we quoting cartoon fish now?”
“Hey, she has some great advice for when life gets you down.” And then in a singsong voice said, “Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.” She grinned, and I couldn’t help but grin back.
“Maybe that’s what you need to remember.
” Her eyes turned serious. “One lap at a time. One meet at a time. Keep going until you’ve done what you set out to accomplish. ”
The tightness eased, just a little. Nobody had ever framed it that way before. Not my dad. Not my coaches. And definitely not me.
I let my gaze linger on her a second longer. “You make it sound simple.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s easy,” she said softly.
For a second, I let myself imagine what it would be like if she were in my corner more often. Someone who didn’t see me as a medal count or a disappointment, but just … me.
My phone buzzed again in my pocket, but I continued to ignore it. My dad could keep waiting. Right now, I didn’t want to be anywhere but here.
I nodded my head at her laptop. “So, what’s got you typing like your life depends on it?”