Page 91 of Safety Net
"To do something and not look to my left and right, asking everyone around me, is it okay?" I laughed. "And, I'm already messing it up by calling you."
Naomi laughed too. "Maybe."
"Definitely." I took a breath and accepted I would have to do this next part on my own.
"So?" she asked, ever patient and willing to let me be whoever I needed to be when I was ready to be it. "Do you need me to tell you what I think? If you're going off the deep end?"
"No," I said without hesitation. "I'll dive off on my own this time."
"I'm proud of you," she said.
"I love you," I said before hanging up.
Without any more what-ifs or catastrophizing, I reached for my laptop and pulled up my application. It took me a second to connect to my phone's weak hotspot, but I eventually did. As soon as the page loaded, I clicked on submit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LINCOLN
It's shameful admitting up until now, I couldn't say with my whole chest I experienced the authentic, metallic taste of hard work. Sure, three seasons on the hockey team at Mendell meant I was no stranger to a decent grind. Long gym sessions left my muscles feeling worn down and run over, while hard collisions on the ice caused bruises and scars that didn't respond to ice baths or heating pads. But (any athlete could vouch for this) there was always a point in a workout, practice, or game where you could decide to push or pull back. To take yourself well past your limit, knowing you're more than willing to face any and every consequence. Or, to stop right when your body requested.
I've always given in to the ask without challenge and always pulled back because who cared what was on the other side of trying when I knew for sure what was right in front of me?
Training without holding back for two weeks left me in the kind of exhaustion that made blinking a laborious task. It qa the first time I allowed dissatisfaction to breach my walls, leading to frustration with my limitations, which had become bold enough to begin haunting me in my dreams. I'm not sure how others deal with hitting wall after wall consistently.
"If we had the chance, I don't think we would have won nationals," I said through a heavy cough.
Henrik filled my ice packs, and Finn checked an old blister on my hand. I'm a warrior coming back to base camp, having my comrades attempt to patch me up for tomorrow's battle.
"Not with how I was playing," I said.
"Well, lucky for us, one person's not a whole team." Sam lounged on the couch opposite the one I sat on. He stuck around for moral support and to cash on his last decent, 'I told you so.'
"Is this how it always is?" I rubbed my hand over my chest. "Working hard for something? Truly wanting it? It's draining."
"You'll develop a tolerance for it," Henrik promised as he placed an ice pack on my knee.
"The pain never really goes away," Finn mumbled, still laser-focused on lining up my bandage. "You just learn how to live with it."
"I'm going to call Anthony tonight," I said.
"And say what?" Sam asked, but not even a small part of him took my declaration seriously. "All it took was a few independent practices for you to become the player he's been trying to make you all summer?"
The guys already convinced me not to try persuading Anthony to take me on as a client again. But now, I felt like more than enough time had passed. I knew what it'd take (my screaming shins were proof). And I had another driving force: Celeste and her unwavering belief in me. I was determined to live up to the man she thought I was.
"Not in so many words," I said.
Sam chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think you should bother."
"Why not?" I asked. "I want to work with him. And he said to call him back when I got serious."
"I think what he meant was, he wanted you to prove you were serious." Henrik sat on the couch's armrest, watching Finn's slow, meticulous way of wrapping my wrist.
"I am," I said. "I have."
"You've verbally committed to a change. And have actively stuck with that commitment for less than a week." Sam rested his phone in his lap, focusing his gaze on me when he realized I wasn't budging on my plan to speak with Anthony. "It's beentwelvedays."
"Less if you count rest days," Finn said.
