Page 67 of Salto

He shook out his arms and undid the Velcro on his grips. When he tossed them to the ground along with his wristbands, I saw him wince, his jaw clenching. He reached up, his fingers kneading a spot on his shoulder.

I recognized the look immediately.

He was in pain.

As he reached down to grab his hoodie, my eyes caught on a long white scar running down the center of his lower back. It was prominent enough that I could see it even from where I stood.

He'd said he'd learned the techniques from somewhere. He'd never told me why he had to learn them. But now I had a suspicion that scar had something to do with it.

“I see you, Red,” he suddenly called out.

Heat flooded my cheeks.

He caught my gaze from across the gym, and I quickly looked away, fiddling with the end of my ponytail.

“Uh—sorry. I, uh…” I fumbled for words, adrenaline pumping through my veins like I'd been caught doing something illegal.

“Meet me in the dance room,” he said, not commenting on my flustered state.

I didn't need to be told twice.

When I got into there, I immediately started warming up, and eventually he walked through the door, going over to the speaker to turn on some music.

I pretended the best I could that I hadn’t just caught him working out shirtless. It wasn’t a big deal.

Really, it wasn’t.

After I finished stretching, I walked over to him, and he set his pen and pad down.

“I talked to our athletic trainer,” he said. “She thinks speaking to our team nutritionist might help with your symptoms. Have you ever seen one?”

I wasn’t expecting that. My brow furrowed.

“Um... no, I haven’t.” I reached up and twisted the end of my ponytail again. “The insurance I’m on doesn’t cover things like that.”

“I was reading more about PCOS,” he explained. “Studies say higher protein intake can help. Vitamins can too.”

I was unable to find words to respond right away.

He researched it?

I was a little stunned. But another part of me felt... thankful.

“If you’re up for it, I’d like to have you meet with him. See if he agrees with any of these studies and see if he can help get you on a regimen.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

He nodded once, and then it was back to business.

“I would like to try breathing exercises today.”

This was the exercise I was most skeptical of. But I bit my tongue and went with it.

“Find a spot on the floor,” Rove instructed. “Lie down on your back.”

I did as he said, coming face-to-face with the fluorescent lights overhead. I rested my hands on my stomach and tried not to fidget.

He knelt beside me, and the clean scent of mint and laundry detergent drifted over me.