Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

“Are you listening?” Avery asks, and I bring my gaze up from her legs to her face.

“Of course.”

Her hands go to her hips.

“Core tight, slow and controlled, yadda yadda.” I have no idea if that’s what she said, but it’s a safe bet.

Avery laughs and Hope joins in.

“You’ve got it bad,” the teenager comments in a tone that’s part annoyance and part inspired.

Avery ignores both of us. “I need to work on my beam routine, so I’m trusting you two to stay out of trouble on your own.”

I stare at her ass as she walks off, then get back to working on rings. Hope is doing vault, but between each run, she sits on a big mat next to the rings and chats with me. She talks nonstop, requiring me to say very little. I’m so used to Flynn and his silence that it’s a nice change of pace.

She tells me about gymnastics, about the boy she likes, how her parents are concerned she’s spending too much time on gymnastics and not giving other activities a chance. And then somehow blocks everything else out while she sprints and hits the springboard, flipping her little body over the vault and landing on two feet. It’s impressive.

I’m taking a break and watching Avery do her thing on beam the next time Hope comes to slump on the mat next to me.

“She’s worried,” Hope says.

“Who? Avery?”

“Yeah. Her first competition is next weekend.”

“She looks pretty ready to me,” I say, and shoot Hope a questioning look. I don’t want to pry, but I’m not sure I understand why Avery is worried. She’s dynamite. I’ve seen her do this routine a few dozen times and she always nails it.

“She is,” Hope says, but her tone tells me there’s more that she isn’t saying.

Near the end of my hour workout, I walk over to where Avery is still practicing on beam.

“Time already?” she asks when she spots me.

“Pretty much. Thought I’d see an expert in action before I take off.”

She drops to sit on the beam. Her smile isn’t that different than many she’s given me before, but Hope’s words have me questioning if it’s a defense mechanism so no one realizes she’s not really happy.

“Hope said your first competition is coming up?”

“Saturday,” she says, letting out a breath.

I walk over and rest my hands on the beam next to where she sits. “That first race of the season excitement and nerves?”

“Mostly nerves,” she admits.

“Why?”

“I haven’t competed in nine months. Not since I hurt my knee.”

“It’s holding up well though, right?”

She bobs her head absently. “Yeah. It feels good.”

“You’re ready. I’ve watched you.”

“You mean you’ve stared at my ass and boobs while I worked out?”

I laugh. “Not gonna lie, done a lot of that too.”

Her legs dangle off one side and she kicks her feet out in front of her. “It doesn’t feel like it used to yet. I’m hesitating before my dismount and I’m wobbling sometimes on my turns.”

I move to stand between her legs, resting my hands on her bare thighs. “Sometimes you need that adrenaline of competition to perfect those tiny things.”

She nods like she’s considering my words. “Maybe you’re right. I never used to stress this much before.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m always right.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s just…”

“What are you really worried about?” I ask when she seems to be stuck working out how to phrase her concerns.

“What if I never get that feeling back? What if the Olympics was a fluke and I’ll never be able to perform at that level again? I don’t know if I could keep doing it. I love it, but I’d rather walk away than get out there and be some watered-down version of the gymnast I used to be.” She blows out a breath and her blue eyes are wide with worry.

I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers. “It wasn’t a fluke. Your success wasn’t dumb luck, it was hard work and a fuck-ton of talent. I’ve seen you put in the time, day after day. You will get there.”

She nods, but still doesn’t seem fully convinced.

“Let’s go,” I suggest.

“Where?”

“I need to go by my place for a bit, then wherever you want.”

She looks like she might want to stay in this gym forever or until she gets her routine exactly how she wants it, but I lift her off the beam before she can protest.

“If you really want to practice more after I feed you, then I’ll bring you back and I’ll do more handstands or something while you work out.”

Her lips turn up in a weak-ass smile.

“I’ll even take my shirt off for extra motivation.”

A real smile finally spreads across her face. I’d do just about anything to keep it there.

At home, I get to work making dinner while Flynn sits at the table doing homework. Hendrick is at the bar, and Archer and Brogan are still at football practice but should be home any minute.

Avery washes her hands and then asks, “How can I help?”

“I got it. Take a load off, princess.”

“Shut up. I’m not going to sit around while you make me food.”

“Uhhh, all right. You wanna chop that onion?”

She finds the cutting board and picks a knife, then sets to work while Flynn and I chat about his day. He’s got college recruitment tours coming up and I need to chat with Colter to make sure none of them conflict with the tour event dates.

“Which school is your favorite?” Avery asks my brother, glancing up from her cutting.

“Houston,” Flynn says immediately.

“Really?” I ask. I didn’t know he had a preference. Every time we’ve talked about college it’s just been wherever he can play.

He nods, then blushes.

“I grew up nearby. A lot of my high school classmates went there. I have a friend that goes there, too. Well, friend might be overselling it. I trained with her before the Olympics.”

Flynn and I share an amused look.

“What?” Avery says, her voice climbing with uncertainty as she glances between my brother and me. “Am I inserting myself into a family conversation?”

“What? No.” That makes me laugh, which makes her confusion grow.

“Why are you laughing?” she asks, propping one hand on her hip.

“It’s nothing. It’s just the way you said ‘I trained with her before the Olympics’ like that’s a totally normal thing.”

“Oh.” She looks more embarrassed at that than if I’d told her yes, you did in fact insert yourself into our very private family discussion. Not that I could have joked about that even with a straight face.

Still laughing, I step forward to brush my lips over hers. “You’re a badass. Own it, princess.”

She softens under me immediately, and it takes all I have to pull back before I forget about dinner and burn the house down. Which reminds me Flynn is watching.

I chance a glance at him as I straighten and as I suspected, he’s got a curious expression on his face. I clear my throat and tip my chin at Avery. “I’ve got it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I assure her.

She goes around to the other side of the kitchen counter and sits next to Flynn. “So, why Houston?”

I expect him to shrug or say, “I don’t know.” Instead, he says, “They just got this new pitching coach, Luka Champe. He was a relief pitcher for the Diamondbacks in the early two-thousands, but hurt his shoulder and only played a few seasons. He retired and disappeared for a while, but then about five years ago he took a job coaching at a junior college, took a struggling program to the national championship in two years. I’d kill to play for him.”

“Luka Champe.” I say the name slowly. “I think I remember him. You had his card framed on your desk.”

Flynn looks embarrassed that I remember, but nods.

“Are you going there to tour the school?” Avery asks him.

“Nah. It’s too far.” Flynn shakes his head and fiddles with a pen on the counter in front of him.

“We could probably make it work some weekend,” I say as I think through my schedule. There aren’t a lot of free weekends between now and the start of the motocross season.

Flynn must have already realized the same thing because he doesn’t press.

“Where else are you thinking?” Avery asks him. “I loved college touring. I went to so many different schools, my parents were begging me to choose already.”

She and Flynn talk colleges while I make dinner. He’s enamored with her, or just really likes talking colleges, but he speaks more than I’ve heard him say at once…ever.

Brogan and Archer get home just as I’m pulling the enchiladas out of the oven. Avery comes back in and asks where to find plates and silverware. She sets the dining room table and although we all glance at her uneasily, no one breaks it to her that we rarely eat at the table and instead the five of us have dinner together while she carries most of the conversation.

I’ve turned into Flynn, barely finding my voice and instead watching how she interacts with my brothers. We’re a lot to take on a good day, and yet she seems perfectly at ease while Flynn shovels food into his mouth and Archer gets up to get a second bag of tortilla chips when we finish the first. He tosses it like a football to Brogan across the room. She isn’t fazed at all, or at least she has a good poker face if she’s inwardly cringing at the chaos around her.

Everyone else disappears when they’re done eating and Avery and I walk back into the kitchen last to put our plates in the dishwasher.

Without saying anything, she wipes down the counter while I put the leftovers in Tupperware for Hendrick.

It’s only when we’re done that I can see a little of that earlier worry working on her. She smiles but when she thinks I’m not looking, she chews on her thumbnail and gets this contemplative faraway look.

“Thanks for helping.” I wrap my arms around her waist. I didn’t hate having her help and I always hate when people help.

“Thanks for feeding me. You’re a good cook.”

My chest shakes with a short laugh. “I manage.”

“Don’t tell me cocky Knox Holland is humble about his cooking skills?” she mocks with a hand held to her throat dramatically.

I take her mouth like I’ve wanted to all night. Her arms go around my neck and she presses flush against me. I want nothing more than to take her into my room and stay there the rest of the night.

“Hey,” I say, pulling back and looking down at her flushed face and puffy lips. “Want to go back to the gym?”

Her eyes light up, but she masks it quickly. “Why?”

“I was thinking I could get in another workout. I was a little preoccupied earlier.”

“You mean you were too busy staring at my ass to focus?”

“That’s absolutely what I mean.”

She laughs. “You don’t need to do this. I’ll figure it out just like you said. I’m sure I’m worrying for no reason.”

But she is worrying.

“I’ve been there many times. If I had a race this weekend, I’d want to be out in the garage tinkering with my bike or at the track.”

Her teeth graze her bottom lip. “You don’t have to come, but thank you for understanding. Text you later?”

“Yeah. Sounds good. I should probably spend some time with Flynn. See if I can figure out when to take him to Houston.”

“You’re a good brother.” She presses a kiss to my lips that makes me want to beg her to stay, but it’s her words that linger with me all night long.