Page 29 of Full Split (Forbidden Goals #8)
ME: We’re going to Belgium, baby!
“Are you texting my dad?” Weston asks, looking over at my phone.
Shit.
Quickly, I close out of my message thread with Wyatt and open a text to my mom. Too late, I realize that it’s probably weird that I texted his dad before my own mother.
Keeping a casual expression, I shrug. “He has been our acting coach for most of this year. It felt natural to text him first.”
Weston gives me a strange look but shrugs and goes back to his lasagna. “Please, for the love of God, man, change my dad’s name in your phone.”
I snort-laugh in response, but I’m inwardly cringing. I need to be more careful.
When we land, I’m exhausted but wired.
All I want to do when I see Wyatt waiting at the gate is run straight to him. Throw myself into his arms. Kiss him until I’m breathless.
I almost do.
I’m halfway there before I see the look of fear and apprehension in his eyes.
Right. Get ahold of yourself, Niles.
I manage to redirect at the last second and aim my excitement towards my mom instead. I practically jump on her, enveloping her in a hug and nearly crushing the red, white, and blue Team USA sign she made that says WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS: HERE WE COME!
I feel Weston watching me the whole time as he gives his dad an excited, but dignified, greeting, and then turns to hug my mom, too.
Weston and I don’t have any checked bags, so once we’ve hugged everyone and I’ve let Mom cry into my hair, we’re out. Straight to the car, where Weston takes up almost the entire backseat.
I elbow him in the ribs to get him to shove over just so I have enough room to buckle my seatbelt. He laughs and scoots over as much as his biceps will allow. “So, do you want to tell them about Peter, or should I?”
I sigh.
Mom turns around in her seat. “It’s all over the news. Did something else happen?” Then, before anyone can answer, “Oh, Weston, honey, why don’t you sit up front with your dad instead?”
“Nah, I’m good. I have plenty of room,” he says, widening his arms in an exaggerated stretch, pressing me into the seat. Mom laughs.
“I don’t know how much you know,” I say. “But Peter got kicked off the team for testing positive for performance enhancers. We suspected steroids based on how he was acting?—”
“And his breath,” Weston adds.
“Yeah that too,” I say. “Apparently, he’s claiming that someone, specifically me, tampered with his drug test.”
“He what?!” Mom shouts. “I’ve been trying not to watch the news to keep my blood pressure down. I only knew about it because Wyatt told me.”
“Yeah, he’s claiming I messed with his test.”
“It’s bullshit,” Weston says flatly. “I can’t believe USAG is even entertaining an investigation.”
Mom gasps.
“It’s just procedure, Mom, don’t worry.”
Wyatt’s voice is steady. “I spoke with USAG legal. The investigation isn’t going to go anywhere. Their testing protocols are air-tight. There was no way for anyone to tamper with Peter’s samples.”
He glances at me, then, through the mirror. “They don’t blame you.”
I nod. “They told me.” It’s still hard to believe how supportive and adamant they were that they had my back. And I still worry that they’ll get tired of all the negative attention and decide I’m not worth it.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Wyatt says. “And there’s no way some bad press is going to make them turn their back on one of their top prospects to bring home gold.”
“What’s next?” Mom asks.
I sit up straighter. “We’ve got two weeks. Then training camp to prep for Worlds. Until then, it’s nailing down our routines. Perfecting skills.”
“Belgium,” Weston says softly.
“Yeah,” I say, staring out the window. “We’re going to be World Champions.”
All my dreams are coming true.
I didn’t text him. He didn’t text me either.
Somehow, we both just knew.
I’m not sure how long he’s been here waiting, but when I see him climbing up the steps to the treehouse, my breath catches.
He freezes halfway up and looks down at me. He doesn’t look surprised, but he looks pleased to see me. Maybe even relieved.
“Thought you might come here tonight,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Hoped, anyway.”
I’m already climbing after him.
When I reach the platform, I don’t hesitate or overthink. I just launch myself into his arms, and he catches me like he was waiting for it.
My legs wrap around his waist. My arms lock around his neck. I bury my face against his shoulder and breathe him in, shaking from how much I’ve missed this. Missed him.
His hands are under my thighs, holding me up, gripping me tight. As if he thinks I might leave, and he doesn’t want to let me go.
“God, I missed you,” I whisper.
He just holds me tighter and presses his lips to the top of my head.
I pull back enough to see his face. His eyes are dark, mouth parted like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.
So I kiss him. Hard.
I kiss him the way I wanted to at the airport. Like I dreamed of every night I was away. His hands slide up my back. My hips grind down. I feel him groan into my mouth.
“I wanted this the second I saw you,” I breathe against his lips.
“Me too.”
“Then why did you look so scared?”
He exhales roughly. “Because if you’d kissed me in the middle of that airport, I wouldn't have been able to stop.”
I grin. “Who says I want you to?”
Wyatt shakes his head, but he’s smiling now. He kisses me back, thoroughly…
And the world is right again.