Page 44 of Salto

I sighed, closing my eyes and trying to calm my racing heart. That conversation had rattled me more than I wanted to admit.

I could walk away from this. I didn't have to sign the contract. I could just go home, pretend this didn’t even happen, and continue doing NCAA and keep things simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. Or…

“Are you going to sign it?”

Rove’s voice sliced through my spiraling thoughts, and my eyes flew open.

I let out a little gasp, my hand flying to my chest where I'd just been trying to calm my racing heart.

So much for that.

“You scared me,” I scolded, glaring at him. “You really shouldn't sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry,” he said simply, hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. He came over to me, stopping a few feet away. His hair was no longer in a ponytail; instead, it was falling in strands of white-blond around his face.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I finally said, kicking a rock that was on the asphalt with the tip of my sneaker, not answering his question about the contract.

“Do what?”

“Step in like that. Vanta thinks my condition will hinder me. And you should probably listen to him.” If an Olympic coach didn’t want me, why would he?

I mustered the courage to finally look up, meeting his gaze full-on.

I'd hoped the effect those green eyes had on me would've worn off by now.

It hadn't.

“With all offense intended,” Rove said, crossing his arms over his chest, “Vanta doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

I shook my head and let out a sharp, surprised laugh.

“Let’s say, for argument's sake, he doesn’t. It’s still a risk. I do have health issues. I understand why he doesn’t want the liability. I’m a risk.”

A small smile rose to his lips.

His looks were pretty lethal at base level, but when he added that dangerous little smirk, it was extremely disorienting.

“Good.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’ll be twenty-three by the time I compete in the Olympics. You’d be putting your chips in on someone that could fail you.”

“Fail me? I’ve already won my medals. I don’t need any more.” He shook his head. “The only person who’ll carry the disappointment if this doesn’t work out is you.”

“You’re going to regret this,” I whispered, looking down at my chalky shins and knees.

“I won’t.”

“You’re going to push me too hard.”

“Probably.”

“Everything about me is complicated.”

“You think I can’t handle you, Red?”

I stilled and looked up again.

Then I responded with absolute certainty⁠—