Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

Tristan lives in an off-campus apartment complex that is filled with college students. It’s especially popular with the hockey team, who live two buildings over.

We’re hanging out at his place on the balcony and noise from several other parties combines to make it feel like all of Valley U is here. Most of the gymnastics team is here, guys and girls. Tristan’s neighbors across the hall, Nico and Whitley, are on the university golf team and brought a lot of their teammates, too.

It’s still early and the atmosphere is chill and friendly. It was a long week and Quinn didn’t even have to convince me to come. I needed to do something other than obsess over training—mine and Knox’s.

I keep replaying his words from yesterday. Last resort, I guess.

I don’t like thinking of the time I’ve devoted to him as a last-ditch effort, but I knew he was hesitant when he agreed to it. The real issue, the thing making me want to chew on my fingernails and mess up my manicure, is wondering if I’m making any difference at all. He said he didn’t think so and that stung.

“Need a refill?” Tristan asks as I stare out at the party around me, not really seeing it.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “No, I’m good.”

He takes the empty camping chair next to me. His blond hair falls into his eyes and he pushes it back with a flick of his head. “How’s your knee?”

“Fine,” I say quickly.

His gaze narrows and drops to my bare legs. “You’re still holding back in practice.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Coach has me on mats still. She wants me to ease back into things, so I don’t reinjure myself.”

“Bullshit.”

If I had any beer left in my cup, I’d be tempted to toss it at him.

“She’s coddling you. You could already be back at one hundred percent if you wanted to be. What I don’t get, is why aren’t you pushing yourself? We’re two months out and everyone is looking to see if you’re going to let this setback end your career or if you’re going to be hungry enough to let it fuel you to dominate.”

Tristan has been competing in the spotlight since he was sixteen. He’s been to the Olympics twice and medaled both times. He doesn’t get it. No one has ever doubted his talent or chalked it up to luck.

“Admit it.” He leans closer and lets his fingertips brush my thigh. “At least to me. I know you, Ollie.”

“Just because I let you feel me up once when I was drunk doesn’t mean you know me.” Moving my leg away from his touch, I stand. “I think I do want a refill.”

Inside the apartment, I step into the kitchen and mix another drink. A splash of vodka with strawberry soda. Quinn is in the living room playing video games. She hands off the controller after she wins another round of Mario Kart and bounces toward me.

She takes my cup without asking and drinks while eyeing me closely.

“You’re welcome,” I mutter dryly, but I’m not really upset. I start to make another drink for myself.

“Why do you have a murderous look in your eye, and who do I need to yell at?” Her eyes widen over the cup.

Tristan walks in and I glower as we make eye contact. He keeps going, walking through the living area and disappearing down a hallway toward the bedrooms.

He has a two-bedroom apartment even though he doesn’t have a roommate. He turned the spare bedroom into a workout room. I know because that’s where we made out. One minute I was poking fun at him for having a home gym and the next he was kissing me. Ugh. Never again.

“Oh. I see. I should have known.” My best friend raises her voice and yells after him. “You’re an asshole, Williams.”

It makes me laugh, how loyal she is even without knowing what happened.

“I’m sorry,” she says more sincerely. “What’d he do?”

“Just being his usual charming self.” I take a sip then cough. I got a little too heavy-handed with the splash of vodka on my redo drink.

She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Do you want to go? I heard the hockey guys have people over.”

“No. It’s fine.” I don’t want him to know how much his words are messing with my head.

“I can Saran wrap his toilets or call in a noise complaint.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “Just don’t leave me alone.”

She links her arm through mine. “Never.”

“Quinn, you’re up,” someone yells from the living room.

Her eyes light up with excitement, then she catches herself. “I’m done for the night.”

“Go,” I tell her. “I’ll watch.”

“You hate video games.”

“No, I don’t. I’m just not any good at them. I can be your personal cheerleader.” She just might have to tell me when to cheer because I have a hard time following most of them.

I settle into a spot between Quinn and a freshman golfer. Everyone else is playing, so I keep myself occupied by scrolling through my phone and drinking faster than normal. Occasionally I glance up to check what’s happening in the game. Quinn’s excitement level is my best indicator. When she wins, she’s loud and jumps around, and when she loses, she sits quietly and pouts.

Her phone pings three times in a row, vibrating on the couch between us.

“It’s Colter,” I tell her after a quick glance at the screen.

“Tell him I’m dominating Mario Kart. He’ll be so proud,” she says over her shoulder.

I snap a picture of her in deep concentration mode, then text it to him with her exact words. He replies with, Atta girl

I snort a laugh. “He’s very proud.”

She beams at the second-hand compliment.

I reply back asking how the tour is going.

Colter

Awesome. At a fair in Chandler tonight. Packed crowd.

I hesitate, wanting to ask him if Knox rode in the event, but for some reason it feels weird to ask. Then I say screw it, we’re working together. It’d be weird not to ask, right?

Colter

Nah, not yet. He’s getting there though. I really appreciate you training with him.

“Not that I’m any help,” I grumble to myself.

Quinn screams out in victory, dropping the controller and reaching for the phone. So fast I’m not sure how it happens, she has Colter on FaceTime. She’s telling him how incredible she is and he’s backing her up and smiling big.

It’s loud in the room. A big group of guys from the golf team just arrived.

“I can’t hear you,” Quinn says.

“Go have fun, babe,” he tells her. “Text me when you get home.”

“Wait,” I say before she can hang up. I motion for her to hand me the phone.

“Avery wants to talk to you.” She hands the phone over and I move out of the living room and down the hall where it’s a little quieter.

“What’s up?” Colter looks concerned as he waits for me to talk.

“About Knox…” I start and blow out a breath. “I’m not sure I’m helping him at all.”

He cracks a smile. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I think it might be.”

“Okay. So, what do you need from me?”

“I don’t know. Ideas? What is he struggling with?”

“Landing tricks.”

“Specifically,” I push.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Knox is a beast on the bike. He can make it do anything he wants. But he questions himself in the air when he’s not in full control. Freestyle is all about losing control without really ever losing control, you know?”

I nod. I do actually. Beam is sort of the same way. It’s about trust.

“You could always ask him,” Colter starts.

I make a face that has Colter chuckling. “Get to know the guy. He’s not so bad.”

Quinn bounces back to my side.

“I’m handing you back to your girlfriend now,” I say.

While Quinn says goodbye, I chew on my thumbnail and think about Colter’s words.

“Okay.” Quinn interrupts my thoughts as she slides her phone into the front pocket of her shorts. “I need another drink and then let’s walk over to the hockey party.”

While she’s filling her cup, my phone pings. When I pull it out, it’s a text from Colter. A short video of a rider racing up the ramp and sailing through the air doing some sort of trick where his body lifts from the bike. I can tell by the way the rider moves that it’s Knox.

I watch it five times, slowing it down, zooming in, examining every piece of it. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for exactly. Something that will help, I guess. On my sixth rewatch another text comes in from Colter. No words, just a number.

And I know just whose number it is.