Page 166 of Beyond the Stroke

“Forget about them,” I say. “They’re just trying to get to you.”

His jaw clenches. “Yeah, I know.”

“Hey, Dorian, you worried about our lineup, or just pissed that we’re still going to beat you?” I flash him a cocky grin.

Dorian lifts his brows. “Didn’t think he was relay material.”

I shrug. “Maybe you should spend more time training and less time running your mouth.”

I feel Connor’s eyes on me but I don’t look at him. I focus on unsnapping my parka and dropping my slides in the bin behind our lane.

Eli drops into the water and grabs the backstroke ledge to start us off.

Logan, Connor, and I watch from the block as Eli struggles to hold off the Savannah Sharks swimmer.

This isn’t the World Championship or Olympic team trials, but it’s still an important meet that will start to shape the national team roster.

We should be winning this race but there’s no ignoring that Charlie’s injury and the aftermath of changing up our roster has shaken up our team, myself included.

I feel it the moment I hit the water. Something’s off but it has nothing to do with my knee. It’s mental.

Pulling through the water, with each stroke, I lean into my physical training and let my body do the work. It’s enough to keep pace with our lane neighbors, but barely. Both the Savannah Sharks and the Milwaukee Marlins teams are giving us a challenge.

As I make contact with the wall, I hear the splash of Logan diving in behind me to begin his leg. With shaky limbs, I climb out of the water, and brace my hands on my knees. Eli and I share a look. There’s no point in saying anything out loud. We don’t want to add more pressure onto Connor when the pressure is already palpable.

By the time Logan finishes, it’s still a tight race between us, Savannah, and Milwaukee.

I hold my breath as Connor hits the water, then slowly exhale when I see that he’s made a clean exchange. When he resurfaces, he’s nearly a foot in front of the other teams. His expertly executed take-off has given us a slight advantage over the other swimmers.

Eli and I give Logan a hand to help him out of the water, before our eyes return to our lane to trail Connor.

At the far end of the pool, Connor’s strokes are crisp and efficient as he flips underwater to touch the wall just over a second ahead of the rest of the field.

My heart pounds in my chest, not just from the adrenaline of the race, but from watching Connor slice through that first fifty meters like a man possessed. No panic. No wasted motion. Just power and precision.

Something tugs in my chest, an ache I can’t name at first.

But then, I realize while my relationship with Summer has me looking to the future, it has me recognizing there are things from the past I don’t want to hold onto anymore, especially my feud with Connor.

I still remember how it felt when Connor took the deal behind my back. The sting of it. The disbelief. I’d trusted him, mentored him, and then was blindsided.

But watching him give everything to this relay when I know he’s got individual events to make the finals for is softening my frustration with him. It’s helping me see that the version of Connor that took that deal isn’t the guy in front of me anymore. And while the betrayal still hurt, it doesn’t have to define us.

Now, I look on as Connor approaches the finish line with the poise of a veteran swimmer. Sometimes I forget that’s what he is now. He’s no longer the lanky kid that I mentored. The quiet teenager with something to prove and nowhere to belong.

He’s not reckless and desperate. He’s confident and ready. And while I didn’t see it in the beginning, Connor showing up to train with the Current was his first step in wanting to make things right.

The crowd is deafening as our team cheers Connor on to the finish.

He glides into the wall and the results board lights up with our time.

Not only did we win, but we managed to pull a team best for time.

Logan and Eli drag Connor out of the pool then wrap their arms around his shoulders to celebrate the win. Connor’s out of breath but smiling while Logan grabs his face and kisses him on the cheek.

“Not going to happen.” Eli laughs. “Sorry, Fisk, I draw the line at kissing.”

Finally, Logan moves to grab his warmups out of the bin, giving Connor space to breathe. With his hands on his knees, he looks up to meet my eyes.

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