Page 119 of Good Graces

“Of course I would. Unless you don’t want to see him, then I’ll support you in that, too.”

I swallow hard. “I don’t know what I want yet.”

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

I let her words sink in, something loosening in my chest. For the first time since this morning, I feel like I’m standing on solid ground. Like maybe I’m not the only one carrying it anymore.

“I’ll be out there, baby,” she adds, ruffling my damp hair. “Rooting for you.”

I close my eyes for a second, holding on to that warmth. The reminder that I’m not alone in this, not anymore. I have Quinn again, and she’s more than enough.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I know.”

36

WARREN

The pool deckis almost unrecognizable like this. It’s dark and quiet, the faint underwater lights shimmering against the surface. Reflections scatter across the walls in broken, restless patterns, like light straining to push through cracks.

The meet already feels like a blur. A rush of noise, splashes, shouting. I swam hard, pushed through the weight in my chest, tried to bury the panic still scraping at the edges of my ribs.

Somehow, I swam better than I expected. The relays were sharp. Clean off the blocks, strong finishes, fast enough to hold our lead. Not enough to drown everything else out—but better than I thought I had in me.

Maybe the panic actually helped.

That sick rush of adrenaline hit harder than usual, dragging me through each lap. My strokes were sharper, my turns tighter. Like my body was too wired to crash, too wound up to give in.

Normally, a spiral like that would leave me spent—wrung out and empty. But this time, I just kept going.

During the debrief with Voss, I barely absorbed a word. I stood there with damp hair plastered to my forehead, nodding while he talked. There was something about my start being stronger than last week, something else about maintaining pace in the back half of the 200 free.

The guys trickled out after that, some heading for their cars, others off to celebrate. Hawkins didn’t even look my way, which honestly felt like a mercy. Most of the parents were gone before that. The last of the noise faded almost an hour ago.

Now, it’s just me, standing under the shower for what feels like forever.

I can’t stop thinking about my dad. How thin he looked. How glassy his eyes were. The way his fingers locked too tight around my wrist.

I haven’t seen him strung out like that in years—not since before Oakview. And it shook something loose inside me.

I get that Oakview isn’t a prison. Residents are allowed to leave. But I never thought he’d want to—not badly enough to drag himself here, all the way to Dayton, just to interrupt my meet. He hasn’t been to one since I was seven.

I’ve been sitting with that fact for hours. Letting it loop in my head until it’s worn paper-thin, standing in the shower for what feels like half the night. The heat has scalded my skin, and I was hoping it might burn away the memories, too.

But it hasn’t. It never does.

Now, the water’s off, and the locker room is silent, heavy with that late-night stillness that makes everything feel louder. I’ve done a few late swims before, usually in the practice pool. Twenty-four-hour gym access has its perks. But I’ve never been in the natatorium this late. Not alone.

When I finally step out of the locker room, still damp from the shower, hair curling against my temples, I don’t expect anyone to still be here.

But then I see her.

Just a flash of dark hair and the sleeves of her Dayton hoodie, too long and pushed up over her elbows. Quinn is tucked into one of the middle rows of the bleachers, notebook propped against her knees, pen flicking steadily across the page. Her head’s down and focused, like she’s deep inside whatever world she’s building.

I stop halfway across the deck, just watching her.

She actually stayed.

And more than that, she’s been here all fucking day. Showed up before the first race and didn’t leave. Not even after I rallied to finish my events. After the chaos and silence and sideways glances, she just ... waited. Sat here alone in the quiet, scribbling away in her notebook like I was worth sticking around for.

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