Page 20 of The Comeback Pact

He peers over at me, dark shadows muting his eyes like he didn’t sleep very well. They make me want to ask if he’s okay, but he immediately nods and then bends to grab some papers from his bag, breaking the moment.

Walking over, he hands them to me. “I made you a training plan.” I skim over the first page as surprise jolts through me. It’s very detailed. Every workout for each day of the week, including weights and reps, plus cardio. He even has tiny notes on the side about good nutrition and percentages of protein vs carbs vs fats.

“You did all this?”

Without looking at him, I move to the next page. There are more schedules here. Trampoline. Pool time.

Now I’m truly flabbergasted. I just keep blinking at the pages. Surely West Brooks had no idea how divers trained before this…before me.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, concern etched in his eyes, as if he’d hate it if he’d missed something.

“How do you know about all this?”

“I Googled it yesterday.”

“Yesterday? When you didn’t even know if I would agree?”

He lifts his shoulders again, and I swear to God, that must be his go-to response for everything.

“If we can’t get pool time here, we can ask at the town’s rec center. Then there’s that trampoline park on Route 3, just outside of town.”

“You seriously Googled how divers train?” Astonished is the only word I can use to describe how I’m feeling right now, and I’m stuck on that one emotion. West Brooks is taking this seriously. I hadn’t even thought as far ahead as his notes and calendars. I figured I’d talk to Coach and see about pool time, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do that. Of course, I’ll be attending regular practices, and— Holy shit! West even has those practices on the calendar already. What did he do? Sleep with one of my teammates to get the information?

Even as I think it, I scold myself. Our schedule is on the Warner University’s Athletics page, just like everyone else’s. Football, basketball, baseball, wrestling, swimming, diving. Warner has a great athletics website, and someone on the social media team keeps the socials updated as well.

“I looked up videos of you diving, too. You’re good.”

Those words hang in the air like precipitation on muggy summer nights. Turning toward him, I half smirk. “How would you know?”

He presses his lips together, but his face brightens, like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “It looks hard, and you did it, so you must be good.”

How in the world is this happening right now? I’m having an actual conversation with West Brooks, Warner University’s golden boy.

We stare at each other for a beat too long before West peers away. “Let’s get to work.”

…And that was short-lived.His abruptness nearly makes me laugh.

But that’s short-lived as well. West kicks my ass in the weight room. It isn’t long before sweat is pouring down my face and I’m demoralized. Coach was right. I am weak. I hadn’t realized what being sidelined would do to the built-up muscle from years of training.

“You’re doing good,” he states as I rack the barbell with frustration after a failed squat. I didn’t get all the way down, my form was terrible, and worse yet, I’m no longer surprised Coach benched me and recruited another partner for Laney. I mean, I still hate it, I’m just not surprised.

While I was recovering, the world kept turning. I’m the only one who stood still. Who got held back.

“Another,” I demand.

“You’ve done enough for today,” West reassures. “You don’t want to overdo it.”

“Are you saying I’m weak?”

He turns his head toward me, sizing me up. I’m fully aware I’m picking a fight, but I’m just so damn pissed at myself. “The opposite, actually.” He stands to his full height. “I see the same competitiveness in you that’s in me, and I know damn well I can overdo it sometimes. It’ll only set you back in the long run.”

He turns his back, and I don’t listen. I get under the barbell again, ducking my head to rest it on my shoulders. I press up—but it doesn’t go anywhere.

“Kenna…”

Fuck me. My legs tremble. His voice, his fucking real voice. Not the one where he’s barking out orders or the way he perfectly crafts his sentences before he even says anything, I’m talking about his raw voice.

“Trust me.”

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