Page 22 of Salto

“And when you landed your double pike, you tensed, almost like you winced.”

My jaw clenched. “I should get going—” I turned away to begin walking back to my car.

“Wait.” Something in his voice made me pause.

I reluctantly turned back to face him.

“You’re in pain. But you don’t wear a brace or anything. I can’t pinpoint what it is.”

His brow furrowed like he was genuinely confused.

My eyes narrowed.

“Why do you need to know? I’m not doing elite.”

He shifted his weight like he was going to step closer, but then he stopped himself and slid his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“I can see that you still want this.”

It was a perfect shot.

A direct hit.

I lifted my chin. “Oh really?” I said. “You can see it?” The patronizing tone dripped from my words.

“Are you going to tell me?” It felt like he was trying to assemble a puzzle, and he wasn’t going to stop until he had every piece put together.

“I have PCOS,” I said quickly. “My hormones are out of balance. It causes pain in my abdomen and back. Happy?”

“So what’s the consequence of training like you want to? Does it make it worse?” His brow stayed furrowed, waiting for my answer.

“If you're asking whether I'll permanently damage myself by training, no. It's not like a torn ligament. Exercise doesn't make it worse. It's hormonal, and there isn't a cure. I just manage it.”

His expression softened and some of the tension eased from his shoulders.

“Then why did you stop?”

“I fell on bars,” I said. “I was in a lot of pain. I lost focus.”

He didn’t fire another question. There was a moment of silence as he seemed to finally get what he wanted.

The puzzle was finally complete.

I thought maybe he wouldn’t say anything else, that he’d gotten what he was looking for, and he’d let me go now.

But then he surprised me with another question. One I was most definitely not expecting.

"Do you want to try again?"

“Try what again?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was getting at. I just wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. It didn’t feel possible, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

“Elite,” he said simply.

“That’s not the plan.”

“Whose plan?”

“Mine,” I said, but my words didn't sound convincing even to me.