Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

I’m trying really hard not to lose my shit with Knox.

Since the minute he showed up, he has seemed completely disinterested. He’s done everything I’ve asked, but he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I take a seat on the floor and he does the same, somehow making the action seem twice as hard.

“Spread your legs out like you did standing.” I show him. “Then place your hands on the ground and shift your weight so you’re in a straddle like this.”

Knox watches closely as I hold myself up by my hands, then he tries it. He’s not quite flexible enough to straighten his legs completely, but he manages to get into the straddle somehow.

He’s strong and his body is agile. I was messing with him when I said he was skinny. He isn’t as ripped as Tristan, but I prefer Knox’s body type. He’s muscular and cut without being too bulky.

Between his muscles and all his tattoos, he’s had all the girls in the gym admiring him since the second I made him take off his shirt. Hey, if he’s going to be a jerk, I might as well get something out of this.

I like his tattoos a lot. He has a floral design down the left side of his arm and covering part of his chest. It’s stunning. Roses and vines, and other objects that I can’t quite make out without staring harder than I should.

He has more tattoos on his hands, chest, right arm, back, and one on his upper thigh that I catch a glimpse of each time he does a handstand and his shorts bunch up. But the roses are my favorite. I wouldn’t have expected it, but they look good wrapping around his muscular bicep.

I can tell he has potential beyond what he’s capable of now. He might have thought it was dumb, but a few minor adjustments with his hands and some repetition against the mat, and his handstands already look better.

“Good,” I say. “Point your toes a little.”

He wobbles as he shifts his gaze to his socked feet. Seeing him attempt to point his big toe is the bright spot on my day.

After another practice earlier where Coach Weaver kept me off beam and forced me to practice skills on the floor instead, my irritation bubbles just under the surface. The worst part is I’m a little relieved every day that she keeps me from pushing too hard. It’s another day I don’t have to worry about trying and failing.

And to make matters worse, an article came out today with the top five collegiate-level gymnasts to watch this year. I’m not on it except for a footnote in the last paragraph that if I could get back to performing like I did two years ago, I might be a threat. If. If. IF!

“Now press up into the handstand from this position,” I say, refocusing my attention.

His brows lift in surprise, but he doesn’t say a word as he attempts it. He doesn’t know where to put his legs or how to move and there’s a few seconds where he gives up and just holds the straddle, looking like I asked him to do the impossible. He drops back on his butt. It’s the first time in the past hour that he’s looked defeated, and I take a little pride in that.

“You might need to start with raised bars on the floor until your flexibility improves. It should look like this.” I go into the straddle and then press into a handstand.

When I sit back in front of him, he cracks a smile. His tone is teasing when he asks, “Did that win you a gold medal?”

“I didn’t win an individual gold and no.”

“Gold, silver, basically the same.”

“Yeah? You’d be happy coming in second?”

“Fuck no,” he answers quickly, then adds, “But it’s still cool that you went and placed.”

“Careful, you’re treading awfully close to a compliment.”

“Your workout sucks. Better?”

“You can’t talk shit about a workout when you can’t even do the exercises right.”

“Sure, I can,” he says, but he has the smallest grin as he does so. He checks the clock on the wall. It’s at least the third time I’ve caught him checking the time. I’m sure he has things to do, women’s hearts to break and all that. Wouldn’t want to keep him from it.

“I guess that’s it for today. Tomorrow I’ll set up some bars and we’ll see if you can get up that way.”

“Can’t wait,” he says dryly.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” I remind him. I’m doing this for free, giving up the same amount of time that he is.

“Thanks for the permission, princess.” He’s quick to get to his feet, grab his shirt, and head out.

The next night I half-expect him not to show up. I’m working on beam skills while Hope does dismounts onto a mat. Even when she doesn’t quite nail it, her smile never falters.

When Knox comes into the gym, he scans it, looking for me. In those seconds before he spots me, I drink him in. Black athletic pants, black shirt, black shoes. Black heart, probably. But damn is he good-looking.

“Who’s that?” Tristan’s voice startles me. He stops next to the beam and stares toward Knox.

“A friend of Quinn’s boyfriend.” I hop down. “We’re training together.”

He scoffs, walking with me toward the door where Knox is taking off his shoes and shirt. “He’s not really your type, Ollie.”

“Good thing I’m not dating him then. Besides, how would you know what my type is anyway?”

“Easy. Me.”

He’s so cocky and so wrong. I mean, sure, he’s attractive, but he isn’t the kind of guy I’d typically go out with. Nolan, my last boyfriend, was an athlete—he was on the basketball team, but he was also sweet and romantic. So not like Tristan, who probably thinks letting a girl sleep over is romantic. Then again, Nolan ended up cheating on me, so I guess he wasn’t that sweet after all.

Knox looks up and his gaze sweeps over my bare legs and today’s pink leotard before sliding to Tristan.

Tristan crosses his beefy arms and puffs out his chest. Ugh, boys. I don’t bother introducing them.

“Ready?” I ask Knox.

He glances at Tristan one last time and then nods.

I take him back to the corner where we worked out yesterday and lead him through the same stretches to warm up.

It goes faster tonight and Knox doesn’t speak until I’m placing the parallel bars on the floor for him to work on press handstands. “Your boyfriend is staring.”

I don’t have to look to know he’s talking about Tristan. I’ve felt his eyes on me. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Does he know that?”

“Point your toes.”

With a grunt, he does while I continue stretching. My knee aches tonight. The doctor warned me that it would continue to be sorer than the rest of me as I keep pushing myself in the gym.

“What about you?” I ask, standing and doing arm circles to get some blood flowing.

“He’s not my boyfriend either.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” I reply dryly. Then perk up. “Though not a terrible visual.”

I’m trying to decide who’d be the more dominant one. Tristan is bigger, but no, it’d definitely be Knox.

He smirks and pauses between sets. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t do the relationship thing.”

“No, really? I’m shocked. Another guy who is afraid of feelings,” I say with all the annoyance I feel.

Hope waves to me from the beam, grinning so big at Knox. I wave back and cross my fingers she doesn’t come over here. She might drool on him if he gets too close.

“What about you?” he asks.

“What about me?” I play dumb purposely to delay answering.

“Do you date or just chew up boys and spit them out for fun?”

An unladylike snort erupts from me. For some reason I like the idea that he thinks I have that kind of prowess. “I’m also not doing the relationship thing right now.”

“I’m surprised, princess.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl and we’re supposed to wear our heart on our sleeve at all times, so big, bad playboys like you can stomp all over it?”

“Single. Got it.”

“Yep. By choice.” It feels very important right now that he knows that part.

“Yeah, I got that too. The Ken doll over there would love to change your mind.” With another smirk, Knox goes back to working on the press. He’s improved a ton in just a day.

I don’t comment and Knox says, “Maybe you should let him. You look like you could use some tension relief.”

I roll my neck. “He wouldn’t know how to relieve my tension if I gave him a manual.”

Knox’s deep laughter catches me by surprise. “I knew it. You already hooked up with him.”

Dammit. I did not mean to share that.

“We made out once,” I clarify, feeling my cheeks warm. “And it’s never happening again.”

“Not if he has anything to say about it.”

“I think you’re ready for something else.” My irritation level is high and all I want is to get up on the beam for a little while to recenter.

I put the bars away and then lead Knox over toward the beams. I guess I’m going to have to chance Hope drooling on him because she’s still working on dismounts when we get there. I run my hand along an empty beam. “Is it okay if we join you?”

“Oh my god, of course!” Her smile is locked on Knox.

“You want me to get up there?” Both dark brows lift, and he shakes his head.

“While it would be fun to see you attempt it, no. Beam is way too advanced for you.” I point to the rings dangling from the ceiling behind us. “I thought you could work there while I get in some extra practice.”

“Too advanced?” He doesn’t look convinced.

“She’s right,” Hope says. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“Is that right?” He smiles at her, a real smile and not one that’s laced in indifference or flirty innuendos.

“This is my friend Hope,” I say, tipping my head toward her.

“Hey, Hope. I’m Knox. You’re pretty awesome. I saw you flipping off, spinning…I don’t know. Looked complicated.”

“Thanks. Avery has been helping me.” She is lit up with excitement at his words.

Knox keeps smiling at her. He’s so…polite and complimentary with her. My face must show my surprise because when he glances back at me, his expression shifts. “What?”

“Nothing.” I look away.

Hope watches Knox wrap his fingers around the rings. “You’re kind of old to start training to be a gymnast.”

I laugh, then bite down on my bottom lip to stop. “He’s not a gymnast.”

“Are you trying to get with Avery then?” she asks.

“Hope,” I admonish.

“What? It’s just a question.” She keeps on despite my face turning red. “This guy in my musical theater class joined just so he could get Anna Laurie to date him, and it worked.”

“He’s not here to date me, he’s training like Colter did with me and Quinn.”

She thinks about that for a second. “Colter’s dating Quinn, right? I thought him training with you guys was just an excuse to spend time with her.”

Well, crap. That’s at least partly true. “Yes, but that’s not what’s happening here.”

She addresses Knox. “Too bad. You’re hot, and Avery needs a new boyfriend. Her last one wasn’t as hot as you and he was a lying, cheating⁠—”

“Okay. That’s enough sharing.” I very deliberately avoid looking at Knox. I love that girl but she has got to learn how not to say every thought that pops into her head. Or I need to stop telling her stuff.

“Oh, there’s my dad. I gotta go.” She jumps down off the beam and waves at me, then Knox. “Hope to see you next time.”

She’s gone in a flash, leaving me to deal with her outburst. I glance over at Knox and find him smiling at me all smug-like.

“You’re not that hot, she’s just thirteen and you’re walking around without your shirt on,” I tell him.

He nods absently. “Is she talking about Tristan? The lying, cheating ex?”

“No. I told you Tristan and I didn’t go out.”

“Just an unsatisfying hookup.” That playful smirk gets bigger.

“A drunken mistake that’s never happening again,” I say more to myself than him.

“He was that bad?”

I sneak a peek at Tristan. Calling him bad seems unfair considering how drunk we both were. “I don’t think so. We were bad together.”

Knox’s stare slowly sweeps down and then back, giving me a very thorough once-over. “Princess, if it sucked, it was all on him.”

“So, same time tomorrow?” I ask on Thursday when our time is up. Four days we’ve trained together, and he’s seemed more frustrated each day. The only time he’s been pleasant is with Hope.

Today he barely said two words. He’s improved in every skill I’ve given him, and Hope has shared more tidbits that made me turn a hideous shade of red, but none of it has seemed to improve his mood.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m going out of town with Colter and the team.”

“Oh, right.” I pull on sweats and slip into my shoes. “Are you doing tricks yet?”

I know it sounds bad but working together I sort of forgot the point of all of it. Most of our sessions I’m just trying to get through it without wanting to strangle him.

“Unlikely.” With another small shake of his head, he says, “Just setting up and tearing down until I get better.”

“Are the sessions helping?”

“You mean the handstands and shit you have me doing?” He arches a brow like the answer is obvious. “Not as far as I can tell.”

Ouch.

“O-kay. Any suggestions?”

“If I had any idea how to do this myself, I wouldn’t have come to you for tumbling lessons.” He pulls on his T-shirt. The movement makes his hair messy, and I find myself wanting to run my fingers through it.

“If you think this whole thing is dumb, why do you keep coming back?”

He shrugs. “Last resort, I guess.”