Page 38 of Salto

Those green eyes, framed by dark lashes, met mine—deep and so incredibly potent.

“A Tkatchev is pretty cruel,” I suddenly said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“You don’t really need to see us do this,” I said, confident this was not a skill anyone had right now.

“No, you’re right.” He leaned back a bit, resting his arm on the bar now like he was settling in for a long conversation. “I could have simply had you all do a bunch of pirouettes, and I would have been able to spot who had Olympic potential.”

I snorted, not expecting the noise to escape me.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

“But I’m not looking for Olympic potential today. I already did that when I scouted you all originally.”

“What are you looking for then?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

“Trust,” he said immediately.

“Trust?”

“Yeah. If an athlete doesn’t trust me, it will be impossible to work together and help them reach their potential.” The teasing faded from his gaze, and his brows knit together.

“So this is like a really insane trust fall of sorts?” I gave him a look that told him I thought he was a little out of his mind.

“Exactly,” he said with a nod. His gaze dropped to my hands wrapped around the bar before returning to my eyes. “So, do you trust me, Red?”

Trust him?

I gripped the bar that I was still hanging out on like it was a freaking lawn chair and not a solid piece of wood two inches thick resting on my hip bones.

“Honestly?” I looked at him, unable to stop the weak laugh that left me. “Not at all.”

He chuckled, reaching out to rest his hand on my lower back as he prepared to spot me on this monster of a skill.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing lightly against my spine.

Sure enough, I was shaking. And we both knew it wasn’t from me being in front support for the last three minutes. I could sit like this at the bar for hours without moving a muscle.

He knew I was scared.

“I’m assuming there isn’t anything I can do to get out of this?”

“You can say no,” he said instantly. “If you think you’ll hurt yourself doing the skill, we can stop right now.”

I didn’t breathe for a second, trying to decide.

His palm was still on my back, his other hand gently wrapped around my wrist. Still ready to spot me for the skill.

“But I’ve got you,” he said, his voice still low. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It sounded so… intense. Yet it was something coaches said all the time. So why did it hit differently when Rove said it?

I nodded and tried to take a few deep breaths to clear my head.

“Okay.”

I knew how to do it. But the only way I would find out if my body could handle it was to attempt it again and see if the pain was bearable. Otherwise, this whole thing would be futile.