Chapter 52
Fifty-Two
I hadn't slept more than ten hours all weekend due to the hectic schedule of the competition and flying back and forth.
In truth, I couldn't afford to rest. Or to think about what Kova had said to Ethan, and how I'd left him in the locker room. I hadn't let myself. I had a one-track mind all weekend and it stayed that way. Even driving back to Palm Bay, I refused to let myself think about it. It hurt too much.
The clock was ticking. Each meet that I placed in the top three brought me one step closer to the Olympics.
First place was always the goal. Despite second place being the first-place loser, I was still happy with it.
Silver still put me on the grid. I was competing against gymnasts with no injuries, and much younger.
The odds were unquestionably against me, but my drive and determination exceeded theirs and it showed in my performance.
This past meet, the Secret U.S. Classic, I had placed first in vault and bars, and second in floor. I had walked away with two gold medals and one silver. It was a tight squeeze for beam and I was close to getting bronze, but I didn't. Still, I was golden and feeling confident.
Monday came fast and hard. Crawling out of bed these mornings had been a task in itself.
Even now I was dead tired and it was midafternoon.
Three days of straight practice, two blading sessions—one late Sunday night when we got home, one before I left—and then I was free for an entire week.
That had been my goal and focus and what helped me stay motivated.
The blading… Man. What a difference it'd made.
Even more, the deep tissue massage. I couldn't believe it, but Dr. Hart had been right.
I felt like a new person with a little pep in my step and when competition time came, I had a whole new body.
It was remarkable to be pain free while defying gravity.
I insisted Kova fit them in my schedule.
I told him if my coach couldn't help me and make it work, I'd go to a physical therapist.
He gave me that infamous glare upon my demand.
I got what I wanted.
I couldn't help but wonder how I would’ve fared if I'd had them sooner.
"Bez truda, ne vitashish i rubku iz pruda." Kova had said to me in Russian at the meet. "No pain, no gain."
I hated that saying, and when I had told him so, as well as reminded him I was not in pain, he had just shrugged his shoulders, indifferent. "Not physically, but your pride is," he had replied.
I hated that he was right. He'd asked me how I was doing, and I gave him a generic answer.
It was how we maintained our relationship the entire weekend—a question with a basic response.
Though, when I stuck a landing or received the most points allowed in my routine, we both grinned from ear to ear and threw around hugs like they were free.
But nothing was free. Everything came with a price.
Over two hours of driving, I pulled into my family's estate, ready to spend the Easter holiday with them.
We may reside on a swanky island, but our opulent home was a secret oasis of peace and quiet, and my body was craving that.
I needed the rest badly, especially since this month would be extremely chaotic with upcoming championships.
And championships were very important. If I didn't place then, I was basically screwed.
My stomach churned, and a sense of dread clouded me as I passed through the iron gates. Without the B12 injections and sheer force of willpower to keep going, I could collapse any minute, but there was an unsettling feeling in my gut and it kept me alert as I parked my truck.
Glancing around the lush, tropical paradise my parents built before I was born, nothing seemed out of place.
I disengaged the keys and sat back in the silence of my tinted car and stared.
Maybe I'd worked myself up for nothing. I did have a lot on my mind as it was. But the driveway was empty, void of both my parents’ cars.
It wasn't long until I was in my childhood home and unpacked and back downstairs looking for my mom and dad. I sent Avery a quick text to let her know I was here and to stop by, but she didn’t respond.
I sent texts to both my parents, and they didn't respond either.
With nothing to do but wait, I decided to lay down and rest my eyes.
"My, my, my, don't you look incredible." Mom's honeyed voice rang from behind me.
I turned around and my eyes met her proud ones that gleamed in delight.
It left me a little sickened. I'd always been thin, and right now I knew I was extremely skinny.
Waiflike. She was too happy over my appearance, and it made me question how she had felt about me a year or so ago when I was only twelve pounds heavier.
I almost wondered if she wanted me to look, or be, anorexic.
Brushing it off, I gave her a hug. "Hi, Mom."
"I'm so glad you could come home for a little while. Easter wouldn't be the same without you."
"Glad to be home."
Mom hugged me a little tighter before letting go. She glanced down and frowned. "You look a little tired."
"I just woke from a nap."
"Ah, okay. Just be sure you're using under eye cream. It's never too early to start. A little concealer for the dark circles too. Yes?"
I nodded, a faint smile on my lips. "Of course."
She patted my shoulder, pleased with my response. Like I was going to worry about under eye cream at my age. I had enough things to carry on my shoulders as it was.
"Your father and I have something we'd like to speak to you about. Do you have a minute?"
I nodded and followed behind. Stepping into my dad's office, I was met with the most gorgeous sunset that bloomed through the large window that overlooked the rich, green lawn.
Warm rays of blood orange and rosy hues filled the room.
I inhaled as if I could breathe in the colors.
I wished I was outside. I missed the beach.
It smelled like old leather and comfort in here, just as I remembered.
As a kid, I used to just sit on the floor and play with my Barbies for hours while he worked.
Mom used to try and shoo me out. Even though I never uttered a word and didn't dare bother him, she'd said I was a hassle and that he needed silence to concentrate, but he'd always told her to leave me be.
One day when I walked in, I found my Barbie dollhouse in his office.
Dad had moved it in there along with a trunk of dolls and their dress up clothes.
That was the last time she tried to pry me away.
Dad glanced up and a huge smile spread across his face the moment he spotted me. I ran and gave him a hug.
"Dad!"
"My little princess," he said, pulling back. "I'm so happy to see your beautiful face!"
I'd been a daddy's girl from the moment I was born. And he loved it.
Before I could speak a word, Mom cut in. "Frank, do you have a moment to go over what we spoke about?"
Dad glanced back at me, this time gravity weighed on his features.
He nodded and gestured toward his cherry colored leather chairs.
I took a seat and Mom took one next to me.
She was poised with a Stepford Wife face that could cut glass.
A nagging, worrying feeling settled in my belly.
Silence cloaked us. I shot a look at Dad, who had reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folded newspaper.
He opened it, gave it a firm shake so it would flatten, then stood tall.
His face contorted, and my stomach sank.
Lowering the newspaper, he flattened his lips and glanced away, sliding the paper toward me with a heavy exhale to follow.
Before I peered down at the paper, I glanced at my mom, thinking it might have been for her, but it wasn't. She gestured elegantly with her hand out and palm up for me to take it. Hesitantly, I reached forward and viewed what had made my parents’ tune change so quickly.
I paled. My jaw dropped. My eyes widened.
My stomach, and heart, plummeted to the floor.
I blinked long. And I blinked long again, not believing the words written in bold black, purposely printed to catch everyone's attention.
A deafening sound filled the room as I sat stone-still in my dad's office rereading the front page over and over, a newspaper strictly printed for the residents of Amelia Island.
'POSH PALM BAY PRINCESS GETTING AWFULLY COZY WITH HER COACH.'
Beneath the headline in italics, it read…
'Caught in the act! Teen socialite Adrianna Rossi seduces renowned gymnastics coach.'
Next to the headline were pictures of me at my meets.
Me hugging Kova with his back to the camera.
Another photo zoomed in on my face as I gave Kova a megawatt smile, again his back was to the camera.
The next showed him squatted in front of me, his hands on my hips and fingertips pressed to my butt over my leotard.
His ball cap was pulled low over his face, only the stubble on his chin was visible.
None of them were offensive or distasteful in my eyes. All gymnasts and coaches were close and very hands on. It came with the sport. But the one photo that held my attention the most, the one that took up the most space and center stage, was the one taken somewhere outside of my complex.
Someone had hidden in the bushes.
Kova had me cradled to his chest, my face buried in his neck with one arm draped over his shoulder, as he entered my building.
Now this looked like the definition of intimate. The sun had set, and I wore very little, next to nothing clothing. My duffle bag was on his shoulder and it looked like I had fallen asleep. The angle of the photo hid his face and made it seem like Kova was pressing a kiss to my cheek.