Ryan bites his lip and shakes his head. I can’t tell if it’s in disbelief or disagreement.
“I’m sorry that you grew up like that,” he says in a strained voice. “I really, really am. Please don’t get me wrong. He must have changed—he’s not like that anymore.”
“I don’t believe that,” I say firmly. “And anyway, it’s not worth the risk. Girls who train with him don’t grow up to have healthy, normal lives.”
“Well, look at you,” Ryan says, shrugging. “You turned out fine.”
“Exactly! Look at me,” I say. “It’s been a long road to feeling remotely okay.”
It’s increasingly impossible not to shout. It feels like a match just caught fire in my chest. I ignite with anger. I’ve seethed silently about this in the past, but I’ve never let it all out before.
“Since I moved back to Greenwood, I’ve finally, slowly, just barely started to cobble together a real, adult life that I’m proud of,” I explain. “A lot of that has to do with working with you. But I am twenty-seven years old. Twenty-seven! It took me the better part of a decade to get here. I was reeling. I had no education, no ambition, no goals, no full-time job. That’s not me. That’s not who I was supposed to be. For years, my life just… stalled. And I couldn’t get back on track.”
“You can’t blame that all on Dimitri,” Ryan says softly.
“He’s certainly not innocent. He pushes people down so they can’t get up,” I fire back. “And look at Jasmine. He broke her down so hard, she never left. He’s despicable.”
“Kaminsky’s despicable. Dimitri’s just tough,” Ryan says.
“I’m telling you, what you’re doing is just plain wrong,” I argue. “No decent person would do this.”
“I’m not feeding Hallie to the wolves, Avery,” Ryan says. “I’ll be there with her. I’ll protect her.”
“Does Hallie know you’re doing this? Do her parents?” I ask.
He sighs. His face contorts, but I can’t tell if it’s with guilt or exasperation.
“We’ve been talking about it for weeks,” he admits. “I didn’t include you in the discussions because I knew you would never work with Dimitri.”
My anger blooms into rage, then betrayal.
“And when did you think you’d tell me?” I ask. My voice breaks. “I’m not just your coworker. This isn’t about you ditching your job. I’m your girlfriend, Ryan. You’re supposed to tell me things, not go behind my back.”
He sighs. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my plans sooner.”
I shake my head. I’m too overwhelmed to speak. What is there to say? I don’t recognize the person I’m arguing with.
“I feel so stupid,” I say finally.
“Why?” he asks.
I shudder and the words slip out before I can register what I’m saying.
“Because this whole time that I’ve been falling in love with you, you’ve been keeping secrets from me.”
Ryan bites his lip. His eyes search mine for a long time.
“I… I didn’t know,” he says. “That you felt that way,” he clarifies.
I look away, cheeks burning hot. There’s a painful, stretched-out silence. I wait for him to say those words back to me. If he loves me back, he won’t take the job. He’ll make things right. But he doesn’t say a word. I feel tears threatening to well up and a painful lump building in my throat, but I know I won’t cry. It’s a skill I learned long ago, honed so Dimitri would never see me more vulnerable than I could handle. The irony of it all feels bitter. I clear my throat.
“Please don’t take the job,” I say. “That’s all I can say. That’s the only thing left to say.”
I rise from the bed. I can’t stand being close to him right now.
“Avery, I’m sorry,” he says. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t really believe Dimitri’s changed. He’s a legend. He’s going to make Hallie a star.”
“Do you want her to be star? Or do you want him to make you a star coach? You’ll leave me and Summit behind in the dust.”
“I’d take you with me, if you wanted to come,” he offers.
“Right, sure, because that’s ideal: working alongside an emotionally abusive asshole and the guy who doesn’t love me,” I snap. “Sounds great.”
He leaps up from the bed. “I didn’t say I didn’t love you,” he says.
I take a deep breath. “Do you?” I ask. “Do you love me?”
He wavers for a moment, like he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t.
“We’re done,” I say, walking quickly to the door so he can’t see the tears springing to my eyes for real this time. “We’re over.”
I turn the door handle hard and storm out, hurrying toward my room at the opposite end. I wait for the sound of him chasing after me, begging me to change my mind. But there’s nothing except the cool hiss of Ryan’s door as it eases shut behind me.
• CHAPTER 22 •
The day after I get home from the National Championships, needing a distraction, I text Sara and entice her to be home at seven for one of the most exquisite meals I have under my belt: seared scallops on a bed of fresh corn and roasted hazelnuts, swirled in a creamy, paprika-infused brown butter sauce. Scallops cost a breathtaking twenty-four dollars per pound at the grocery store, and their soft, delicate white bellies make them tricky to cook without charring the skin and leaving the insides raw. In other words, don’t bother attempting to make them unless you know what you’re doing and have a reason to splurge. I’m making a pound and a half of them tonight because I want to feel talented and productive and like myself again as I recount the story of my breakup to Sara. I lost sight of who I am over the course of my relationship with Tyler; I need to prove to myself that I haven’t forgotten that again while dating Ryan.
I’ve unloaded the groceries and preheated the oven when Sara walks in and drops her yoga mat by the door. She taught a class tonight, so wisps of blond hair frizz up from her topknot, and her cheeks glow pink. It’s true that teaching yoga isn’t as physically taxing as doing it, or so she tells me, but she’s still one of those girls who never sweats. As a person who spent a good chunk of her teenage years sweating on national television, I’m jealous.
“You’re officially my favorite person, do you know that?” she says, taking in the paper-wrapped scallops and the ears of corn. “This looks amazing.”
“Thanks, but save your compliments for when you taste it,” I say. “Hey, do me a favor? Will you shuck the corn?”
“Sure thing. Looks fancy. What’s the occasion?” she asks.
I look up carefully from the paprika I’m measuring. “Ryan and I broke up,” I say.
Sara gasps and gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry,” she says, hugging me.
“Well, technically, I broke up with him,” I add. “We had a fight, and…”
I press my lips together into a tight smile so they don’t tremble. I can’t let myself cry again—not now, not after I’ve spent the better part of the last two nights crying myself to sleep. It feels important to add the technicality that I was the one to break off the relationship. I can’t stomach being the girl who gets dumped twice in six months.