Page 50 of Full Split

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.