Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

Knox texts on Thursday, thanking me again for being there last night and letting me know that Flynn was home. He didn’t ask me to come over or mention his upcoming departure. I offered to bring food or help play nurse, but he just told me they had it covered. That was it.

I know he’s dealing with a lot, but I want to be there for him. I want him to let me in, so I can take some of the weight off his shoulders.

Showing up unannounced doesn’t feel right either though, so I sent one more text offering whatever he needed if he changed his mind.

I can’t make him let me in or need me. And I can’t make him miss me the same way I miss him. He isn’t even gone yet, and I feel like I’ve lost him.

Sure, we’ve hung out this week, but he’s been distant since the moment I opened my big mouth and told him I wanted more than hookups when we happened to be in the same town.

I have my answer even if he didn’t say it explicitly. Suggesting we might occasionally be able to see each other after spending nearly every day together would be torture. It’s already torture. I fell hard for him. Rough-edged and prickly Knox Holland has my heart, even if he’s tried to pass it back to me daily.

I’ve missed the idea of people before. Ex-boyfriends and crushes, great aunts that passed that I never really knew. But the way my chest aches thinking about never seeing Knox again is something I am entirely unfamiliar with.

In movies there’s always a scene where the heroine is brokenhearted or down on her luck. She eats tubs of ice cream and barricades herself in her room while wearing the same pair of sweats day after day.

I am an expert on throwing a pity party, but with everything that has happened to Flynn and Knox, I don’t see how I can feel all that sorry for myself. I’m healthy. I have parents that love me, and I can still do the thing I love most, even after an injury that should have stopped me.

So, I don’t cry or eat massive amounts of sugar, or reread every text Knox and I have ever sent and replay every moment we spent together. Okay, I am guilty of the last two, but that’s as far as I let it go. Then, I throw all my energy into training.

Or I’m trying to. I’m lying on the beam, staring up at the ceiling. It’s always been my favorite place, but today it isn’t soothing me like usual.

I shake my head to clear it and push myself into a stand. I have a brand-new dismount to work on and another meet in two weeks. If I had been looking for the perfect distraction, Coach Weaver gave it to me.

“Looking a little sleepy this morning, Ollie,” Tristan says as he struts past me.

My skin prickles with irritation and I swear I catch a grin on his face as I go into the first move of the routine.

The ache will still be there later, but for now I’m ready to get to work.