Page 1 of Spring Break With A Gold Medalist

one

Maya

Ican do this.But when I stare up the steps to the small landing outside the apartment door, the distance seems to stretch on forever. Some days the slow climb is no problem. Others, like today, make me wish the rental was on a ground floor. Maybe I should have agreed when my brother wanted me to move somewhere else while rehabbing my knee.

Except I really love this apartment over a chocolate shop and the owners who have been so kind. Besides, climbing steps is part of my PT.

I’m just getting home from that therapy. They worked me hard today. The effect of my post workout ice packs is wearing off. Once I get upstairs I’ll use the cold therapy machine I’ve rented and try to relax. Tomorrow I need to start looking for a gym where I can augment my physical therapy.

Moving my recovery to a public location scares me. Even when healthy I always prefer to stay away from public inspection. I’m not as tall as many of the top beach volleyball athletes. And I’m thicker than most. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I’m part of a great team. A successful team.

No, that’s not really right. I was part of a team. Ellie and I were getting close to being recognized as possible Olympians. Blowing out my knee brought our upward ranking climb to a screeching halt. I couldn’t allow my awkwardness to hold her back. She tried out a few other girls and now has teamed up with someone who has the needed skills to enhance and compliment Ellie’s game. Now they’re winning tournaments and rapidly climbing in the ranks.

Ellie has the life she’s dreamed of since I met her and we became besties in college. Even more than that now since she and my brother finally admitted their love for each other. Before they hit the circuit again, I’d encouraged them to get married because they belong together. Forever. But Ellie refused only because at the time I could barely hobble six feet. She’s insisting they wait until I’m able to walk the entire length of the aisle then dance at their reception.

I’m looking forward to that day—whenever it happens. It’s one of the few things encouraging me to keep up with my recovery.

Groaning, I rest my cane against the baluster and ease myself down to sit on the steps. A little rest and I’ll start the climb. Digging through the pile of mail I’d picked up at a UPS store I find a letter from my best friend. Ellie’s distinctive handwriting always makes me smile. She dots the ‘I’ in her name with a tiny volleyball. The girl has a one-track mind. A good thing when reaching for gold medals.

In the thick envelope I find some folded pages obviously torn from a bridal magazine. Ellie’s drawn circles around a number of dresses with a dark marker. The bridal gowns make me smile. They’re all basically the same. She definitely has a style and will look fabulous in any one of them.

Sticky notes next to bridesmaid dresses explain her ideas for a specially designed dress for me. The dresses are all beautiful but I can’t imagine myself in any of them. I’ll ruin her wedding.

The weight of the day, the pain in my knee, wedding expectations, even the stupid staircase are suddenly too much. Tears sting my eyes before trailing down my cheeks. I don’t even care enough to brush them away. Crumpling the slick magazine pages as I stuff them back into the envelope, I ignore the letter. She always sends what she calls happy mail. Right now I’m not in the mood for happy. I’ll read her missive when my mind is in a better place.

“Hey, everything okay?”

The question from a low tenor voice stalls the breath in my lungs. The resonance hovers in my chest a moment then exits on a sigh. Ignoring my unusual reaction, I look up at the man standing a few feet away. The late afternoon sun creates a halo around him and I lift one hand to shade my eyes to get a better look.

Because there’s a tiny bit of hope hovering in my chest that his appearance will match his voice.

He’s not extremely tall—not like the beach volleyball guys I’m accustomed to. His shoulders are wide and his body tapers to a trim waist. He’s wearing jeans that I can tell hug thick, muscular thighs even with the sun nearly blinding me.

“Sorry,” he says and takes a couple of steps to the side. “Didn’t mean to make you look into the sun. Are you okay?”

Now I’ve got sunspots dancing in my vision. I blink a few times but that only releases the tears that were hovering on my lashes. Great. He’s going to think I’m?—.

“Hey, don’t cry. Is there anything I can do?” He moves closer, stopping far enough away so he doesn’t come off as threatening. There’s something sweet about his actions and I appreciate the consideration.

“I’m okay. It’s just been a long day that isn’t going well. Thanks for asking.”

“I’m Phil Tolenski.”

His name sounds familiar however at this moment I can’t figure out why. Maybe once I’ve relaxed a little it’ll come to me. “Maya Davis.”

“The volleyball player. Beryl’s told me a little about you and your injury.”

It’s not like my blown-out knee isn’t common knowledge, but I’m not sure I appreciate my landlady talking about it with random guys. “You know Beryl?”

He gives a dry chuckle and there’s a sense of sadness to his expression. “She coaches some of the younger kids in gymnastics, so we work together. Her son is one of my best athletes, going to go far in the sport. Olympic level far.”

I must have made some sound because he sits beside me and after a moment’s hesitation takes my hand. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made the reference.”

I swallow the lump of pain hovering at the base of my throat. I have got to get over falling apart any time the Olympics are mentioned. I’m not upset because I won’t make it there, but my injury means Ellie had to start over with a new partner.

“No, it’s okay, Phil. I’m okay with how everything’s turning out. Really, I am. It’s just been… a really hard…” I can’t finish. I can barely breathe. Damn it all to hell. This isn’t the time for a panic attack. I struggle to fill my lungs. When finally I do, I burst into tears.

two

---