Page 35 of Racing Hearts

“I just lost everything,” I say, and I hate the way my voice nearly cracks. “And I know what I need to do to get it back. But you’re—you’re not letting me do those things. And now—I had a glimmer of hope, but you won and I lost and now I have nothing again.”

I blink my eyes open, raw with repressed tears.

Adrian gazes back at me with more sympathy than I expected. “Okay. I see. Maybe I can help.”

“You’ll let me do my program?”

He shakes his head, but there’s a soft, inviting smile tugging at his lips. “You give determination new meaning, Parker. But no. You have to do my program. Still, I think there are two things I can do.”

“Okay?” I sniff.

“As a coach, I can see now that firm rules and boundaries are all wrong for you. I’m not going to cave to your demands, but I also think you need more explanations than what I’ve given. You need to understand my decisions so that, even if you don’t agree, you also know they’re not based on whim. So, no more declarative coaching. I mean, I still want you to hold up our end of the deal, but I’ll also try to explain things. And I promise to listen when you have a different view.”

My first instinct is that this is hardly a concession at all. But if I really think about it…I do like to understand decisions and, if there is a method to Adrian’s madness, I certainly want to know it. I’ve also never had a coach offer to completely change their style for me before, and while I realize this is part of Adrian’s shtick, it is moderately heartening. Besides, I suppose this new approach will at least give me some opportunities to make my case.

“I’d like that,” I say. “What’s the second thing?”

Adrian’s eyes crinkle. “You need a chance for a win.”

“A win?”

“Against me, specifically. It’s only fair, given what you’ve been going through.”

Not for the first time, I search his face for insincerity, but find none. “What kind of win?”

“What was in the basement when you were in high school?”

I lift an eyebrow. “That’s possibly one of the top five creepiest things you could have said to me right now.”

He laughs. “Seriously.”

“Um, dirt floors and cobwebs.”

Adrian nods as though that answer is satisfying in some way. Then he bolts down the stairs and motions for me to follow through a door at the back of the team lounge. When he flicks a few switches at the top of the stairwell, my jaw drops.

The basement springs to life in an array of bright lights and discordant sounds. We descend the stairs, unveiling the full scope of the transformation. It’s not a dusty, empty basement anymore, but an arcade. The air sizzles with clatters, clangs, and whirrs. Against the backdrop of unfinished brick walls, I find everything from pool to air hockey, Ping-Pong to pinball. There’s even a basketball hoop next to a Skee-Ball track. Everything’s worn at the edges, well loved. But it’s incredible, like a grittier version of our sleek game room in the training center.

“What is this?” I ask. “Where did you get the money for it?”

Adrian drops off the bottom step beside me. “Fundraisers, but it wasn’t that expensive. I organized a few work days last spring and a bunch of the parents came to help lay flooring and install lights. I bought the machines secondhand from an arcade-bar that was going out of business uptown.”

I stopped visiting the boathouse regularly when I moved to the training center, and the last time I practiced here was a few years ago. But contrary to what I thought when I first arrived, there have been tons of improvements beyond that fresh coat of exterior paint. The weight room is cleaner and better stocked, the wood flooring in the trophy room got a polish, and the countertops in the kitchenette have been replaced. I guess those were all Adrian’s doing.

But this? This takes the cake.

“Holy shit,” I say.

Adrian purses his lips. Shrugs again. “I want everyone to enjoy themselves when they’re here. We work hard, but I don’t want this place to be only about hard work.”

“It’s impressive. Seriously.”

Adrian’s chin drops and I think I catch a tinge of pink on his ears. “So, what do you say? You want a win?”

I look back at him. “You’re not going to let me, are you?”

“Parker.” His expression goes serious. “I wouldn’t dare.”

My mouth cracks with a smile. As much as everything is dark and crumbling around me, the idea of crushing Adrian at one of these otherwise meaningless games sends a surge of excitement through me that’s so intense, I can barely suck in a deep breath.