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It doesn’t surprise me that Bryce immediately gets down to business as soon as we placed our orders and we each have a draft beer in front of us. He has always been the kind of guy who liked to know the objective, the one who kept me steady and focused when my excitement got ahead of me.

If he’d been there when I first saw the pool, we would have had this plan in place before we even made an offer on the building.

I nod, fiddling with my beer. “And we obviously can’t do any of the repairs ourselves. We’ll have to hire someone to come in, do a design, and orchestrate the rebuild or remodel—whatever it’s called.”

“I’m sure we can find a company to do everything. It’ll mostly be Josie and I handling it. How soon do you want to have it up and running after the Games?”

“Within a couple of months. The timeline won’t matter if I don’t make the team, though.” Bryce presses his lips together, a sure sign he wants to yell at me. “My times were shit at Worlds. You know it’s true.”

“They were not shit. You walked away with three medals.”

“Only one of which was gold,” I shoot back. We’ve been doing this most of our lives, building each other up while we tear ourselves down. It’s a game we are rather good at by now. “I’m not promised a spot on the team, and you know it.”

“I also know you’ll be training your ass off for the next several months, Carter. That’s why I’m here, because you bought this thing, and it’s going to be great, but you can’t deal with it right now. So do what you need to do and trust me to do the rest.”

My brow arches. “I cannot ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me, dude.” He sighs. “I’m not even offering. We’re business partners, and this is what business partners do. They step up when the other one can’t take something on. Do you really think I moved here thinking you’d be available every day to make decisions? No way. You’ll be here when it counts and, in the meantime, go finish your shit.”

Finish my shit.

That’s what I’m doing. I’m on the last leg of a career I dedicated my entire life to, worked day in and day out for. I won’t even be thirty until this July, but I was already facing the r-word. Retirement. It’s something every swimmer expects, to be retired far younger than any of our non-swimmer friends, but the meaning is different for us.

Retirement, to me, feels like I’m saying goodbye to my life’s work. It’s not the end of hard work, more the shift to something I haven’t allowed myself to think about yet. I know it’s time. I considered retiring when Bryce did, but I felt like I still had more things to accomplish. Things I’m not sure I’ll be able to see through now that they’re staring me down. Less than one year until Trials, and it feels like the ticking of a bomb.

“Does it ever get easier, man?”

Bryce looks up from his phone, brows furrowed in confusion. I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. A second later, he’s setting his phone down on the table and giving me his full attention. “I don’t know if easier is the right word, but it’s not as daunting, I guess.”

I almost tease him about his word choice. I’ve never heard him use the word “daunting” before. Maybe living with a writer is helping with his vocabulary.

“I didn’t deal with it the same way you did, though,” he argues. “I didn’t pick an Olympic year and decide that was when I’d be done. Maybe I did initially, but I had an injury I couldn’t bounce back from, and I just knew it was time.”

“But how?” I stress. “What if I’m not ready to say goodbye? What if I should have said goodbye years ago?”

“Well, it’s too late to change the past,” he replies. “You can change the future. You haven’t made it officially known you’re planning to retire. If you get out there and decide you want to go for another year, or two, or three, then you do it. It’s your life, dude.”

“I bought a pool,” I pointed out.

“And signed your best friend on as a co-owner.” He waves me off. “If you decide to keep going, then I’ll find another washed-up swimmer who can help me coach. My phone is full of numbers, Carter. Stop worrying about the what-ifs. I’ve got your back.”

I know it’s true, but that knowledge isn’t necessarily going to be enough to make me believe there’s nothing to worry about. I’d never felt so untethered from my life before, and it was freaking me out. All of Bryce’s advice came from a genuine place of care, because he can’t tell me how to live my life, but I find myself wishing someone would tell me what to do.

Being an adult sucks.

The server arriving with our food prevents me from continuing down the spiral I was rapidly heading toward. Despite knowing Bryce would be more than willing to listen and offer advice, I felt like I’d laid enough on him now. I was set to go back to Georgia tomorrow morning, already hitting the grind in preparation for the Olympic year just months away. For now, I just want to hang out with Bryce.

Truetohisword,Bryce is handling it.

A week after our walkthrough at the pool, I have an email waiting for me after a weight training session with the subject line: Josie says we can’t use power tools. Laughing to myself, I open the email and scan the list of companies that will manage everything from design to overseeing the construction process. He also added several notes about the general length of time we could expect to spend on this and a general budget.

The projected budget—from his research—nearly made my eyes bug out of my head. I knew it’d be expensive, but damn. I’m going to have to win several gold medals to pay for this.

He requests I scan through the companies and let him know which ones to start calling. He’d handle all the initial interactions, he informs me, and then we’ll get together to go over the quotes and make our decision as a team.

The weight lifts off my shoulders at the realization I’m not alone in this. Bryce was serious that day in the bar—he can handle it. He wants to handle it. He’ll take care of everything in Columbia, and I’ll stay back in Georgia, trying to make my last team.

I can figure out the rest of my life later.