Page 69 of Salto

“In.”

He drew in a slow breath, and I did my best to match it.

“Good.”

His eyes never left mine.

“Out.”

We exhaled together.

After a few minutes, my brain shifted back to the image of him doing giants on the high bar. Then the way he landed and winced at the end.

The curiosity was too much to bear.

“You never told me how you know all these techniques,” I blurted. Well, too late to take it back now…

He pursed his lips as if trying to decide if he wanted to discuss this with me.

“Keep breathing.”

“Tell me, and I’ll keep breathing,” I said quickly.

His eyes met mine, and there was a brief pause before he finally answered. “I had a stress fracture. In my back.”

My eyes widened, and I stopped breathing the way I should’ve.

His eyes narrowed. “You said you’d keep breathing.”

“Sorry,” I quickly corrected, showing him I was back on track. I wanted him to keep talking. “How did it happen?”

He sighed. “I initially hurt it doing an inverted press on rings. Instead of resting after my injury, I pushed myself to keep going. Eventually, I pushed too hard. I ended up needing surgery.” His jaw clenched.

“Does it still bother you?” I asked quietly.

He nodded. “Still does. But I learned to work through it.”

“And these… breathing exercises helped?”

He nodded, glancing at my abdomen to check my breathing, then back to my eyes again. His brows knit together. “I need to be honest with you. It’s not that the pain doesn’t exist anymore. It’s that my body knows how to continue functioning with it now.”

I nodded. These exercises weren’t a cure; they might not even alleviate the pain. But they would train my body to stay focused despite it.

“Still want to keep doing this?” he suddenly asked. “It’s not too late to back out.”

A little scoff escaped me. “Looking for an out, Coach?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said confidently. “I just wanted to make sure you're certain.”

“I’m certain. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be doing these stup—” I trailed off.

His eyebrows rose.

“We might need to practice holding your tongue, too,” he teased.

“Are there exercises for that?” I asked, smiling coyly.

He fought a smile, shaking his head. “Why don’t we just start with raising your hand if you want to say something?”