Page 89 of Salto

I had qualified for elite and would be trying for Nationals, which would hopefully lead to me being accepted onto the National Team and eventually earning an invite to the Olympic Trials.

Only a month ago, I thought I’d only ever get to do college gymnastics. And now…

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Rove leaned on the center console and glanced over at me.

"You did good, Red."

I turned toward him.

"Thank you," I said, realizing that if he hadn't pushed me, I wouldn't be here right now. "For all this."

He smiled. “You had it in you all along; you just needed someone to remind you.”

I nodded, feeling something warm flood my chest.

Rove looked back toward the road, his fingers tapping once against the steering wheel before his gaze flicked to the clock on the dashboard.

His brow furrowed. "Have you eaten anything since this morning?"

I'd had a few sips of water, but honestly, I'd been so tied up in knots over the meet that I'd gone pretty much the whole day without food.

Now that he’d mentioned it, I was suddenly hyperaware of my stomach.

It almost hurt how empty it was.

“Not really,” I admitted.

A few minutes later, we exited the freeway, and I knew it wasn't our exit because we still had about an hour to go.

“What are you doing?”

“Stopping for food,” he said simply.

“I’m fine, Rove. Really, I can wait till I get home.”

He didn’t respond; he just kept driving, and a few moments later, we were pulling into a diner with flickering neon lights and red booths you could see through the windows.

“You need food,” he said, putting the car into park and getting out.

I wanted to protest, but the door had already shut, and he was coming around to the passenger side.

“Come on,” he said, already heading for the diner, not waiting to see if I would follow.

I unbuckled and hurried after him.

When I walked in, I was blasted in the face with the smell of tater tots and burgers. It was heavenly, and my mouth instantly watered.

Rove was already at the register, his hands tucked into the pockets of his oversized sweats as he spoke to the cashier.

“Can I get the Fish and Chips and a drink. And then—” he turned toward me, and I was just coming up beside him when he paused. “What do you want?”

I glanced at the menu, and my eyes landed on a pastrami burger and the shake selection.

“Pastrami burger, no pickles, tater tots, and a large chocolate shake.”

Rove didn't even bat an eye at my massive order. He just pulled out his card and paid for everything.