Page 17

Ronan’s voice echoes off the mostly empty pool, yelling out some instruction to Emmie.

The sound bounces off the walls, but there’s no anger behind them.

No harshness or sharp whistles that a lot of people attribute to coaches, especially ones who are trying to catch a kid up.

It’s solid instruction and gentle pushing.

Standing from the couch in the common area, I make my way over to the large windows overlooking the pool.

Ronan is leaning against the starting block, stopwatch in hand, while Lezak is following Emmie down the length of the pool, offering supportive barks and yips whenever she turns her head toward him to breathe.

It makes the corners of my lips tug up in a smile.

If someone had asked me all those years ago what I thought Ronan O’Brien would be doing after swimming, I would have never guessed this.

I definitely wouldn’t have pictured him advocating vehemently to get a young woman on a team at no cost to her, giving up his own time and money to help get her caught up with the rest of the team.

The man who stormed into Bryce’s office two weeks ago had taken me by such surprise, almost like he did when we were younger and his reputation was all anyone saw .

He was the classic rich boy who had things handed to him; that’s the problem so many people had with him.

But I never saw it that way. Sure, he comes from money, and his parents love to put the spotlight on their elite professional athlete son, but something always felt off about it.

He never seemed to spend a lot of time with his family, choosing to train in California instead of staying close to them on the East Coast. Any interview that involved his parents never involved him, and the classic photos of parents congratulating their newly named Olympian child seemed forced.

I don’t know where Ronan’s money is coming from, and it’s not any of my business, but I also can’t help wondering if his relationship with his parents has been fixed enough to make Emmie’s scholarship happen.

There’s not always a lot of money in swimming, but for someone like him, there was.

He took on sponsors, did modeling on the side, and was a world-class swimmer with the medals, records, and titles to prove it.

If he managed his money and paired it with his parents helping him out, I’m sure he’d be more than capable of handling Emmie and his lifestyle.

Hell, maybe his parents are covering Emmie’s training. They seemed to have bankrolled most of his career, and I’m sure they’d love to have another shining athlete to attach their name to.

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I shake it away.

The O’Brien name is big in Massachusetts, his father taking on some multi-generational financial institution that makes the rich richer.

Despite the tension between parents and son that was always obvious to me, the media never shied away from calling him out for being the spoiled rich kid.

A sharp whistle pulls me from my thoughts and sends my gaze back to the pool. Ronan is now squatting by its edge, demonstrating shoulder movement to Emmie, who is watching with rapt attention. Even from here, I can see she’s taking every piece of advice and feedback he gives her to heart.

A shoulder bumps against mine before the person settles beside me. I don’t have to look to know it’s my best friend. “I was too hard on him the other day, wasn’t I?”

“You mean when you told him he shouldn’t be allowed to coach children? Yeah, Mia, you were.”

I turn to face my best friend, leaning against the window as I cross my arms. She stares back at me, not saying a single word.

Instead, she’s waiting for me to talk, wanting to see if I can offer up any kind of explanation for whatever’s been going on between Ronan and me.

But I can’t. I don’t want to talk. All I want to do is scream into the void.

And while that might make me feel momentarily better, I doubt it’d do any good in the long run.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between the two of you and I’m not going to ask, not again, but I do know what I see from the outside looking in.

” Josie points toward the window. “That man is confused as well. We all are. He can’t fix what he doesn’t know.

I don’t care about him, though, I care about you. ”

“Don’t lie.” I snort. “You care about everyone. Even when you shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves me off. “I’m too nice for my own good. You’re right, I do care about him because I don’t want to see him hurt or anything. What I meant by that is I care about you more and in a different way. Whatever happened between you two happened almost a decade ago.”

“Eight years!” I protest, not wanting to think how old I’m about to be and definitely not wanting to find a way to speed up time.

“Close enough.” Josie laughs, which gets a smile out of me. “My point is, you have to be tired of holding the grudge, Mia. What if you never saw him again? Were you going to hold on to it forever? That would have been exhausting.”

Taking a sudden interest in my nails, I shrug. “I don’t know. I never thought that far.”

“Let it go. For your sake. I’m not saying you need to forgive him or even start getting along with him, but this anger is not doing you any good.”

Letting it go would mean letting my walls down again.

And if I let my walls down around him again, aren’t I just opening myself up to be hurt?

Without the cover of the grudge, I’ll become vulnerable.

This man was able to get through my defenses once before.

What would there be to stop him this time if I let it all go?

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” I admit to my best friend.

Reaching forward, she wraps me in a hug, and I sag against her. I should get her to hug me more often. The simple gesture has always been good for grounding me, reminding me that I’m not alone in this big, scary world.

“Pain is a part of life, Mia,” she mutters, squeezing me tighter.

“You know that as well as I do. I can’t promise that you won’t get hurt again, but I can promise you that you’ll never have to go through pain alone.

” She pulls back to look me in the eye. “I’m always going to be here.

That’s our promise to each other, right? ”

With a watery smile, I nod. “Right.”

“Just promise me you’ll think about it?” I hesitate for a moment before nodding. She grins at me. “Great, that’s all I ask! Now, let’s go.”

I laugh at the sudden turn of events, Josie heads toward our office to gather her things. “Go? Go where?”

“Kat’s place,” she calls over her shoulder. “We’re having a girl’s night! Bryce and Carter are playing video games at my place. There’ll be wine, snacks, and face masks. ”

“Well, if there’s going to be face masks.” I follow her into our office only to be hit in the face with a stuffed narwhal Bryce got her as a joke. Laughing, I toss it back to her. “Are you bringing your tarot cards or do we need to bring some of mine?”

Josie looks up from her bag with a sly grin. “Now you’re talking.”

When I come back from changing in the bathroom, Katrina’s living room is in complete and utter chaos.

There’s a smorgasbord of food and drinks laid out on the tables and ottoman, an assortment of facemasks and other beauty treatments are laid out across the floor for perusal, Practical Magic is playing quietly on the TV, and I think I might be in my happy place.

I’m wearing a pair of my comfiest pajamas—shorts and a T-shirt with a tarot card and rolling pin pattern Josie had made especially for me—and I can’t wait for a nice, relaxing night with my girls.

Except Josie and Katrina are huddled over the masks while they talk quietly to one another. Pouring myself a glass of sangria, I assume they’re discussing the masks until I hear Ronan’s name. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

With a sheet mask in hand, Katrina moves onto one of the chairs while I take the couch. “Oh, just talking about how good Ronan is with Emmie. All the kids, actually. It’s no wonder Operation Fly is such a success.”

Tilting my head, I stare at her in confusion. “What do those two things have to do with each other?”

Josie tosses me a nourishing mask before taking the spot next to me, a bottle of nail polish in her hands. “You know Operation Fly? Ronan’s organization. ”

The organization, I’ve heard of. It was just gaining traction when Josie and I stepped back from the sport.

Operation Fly was a charitable organization specifically aimed at helping kids get access to the swim lessons and teams they wouldn’t have otherwise.

Whether through local clubs or schools, the organization offers clinics, and scholarships to get these young swimmers the chances they wouldn’t otherwise have.

She just needs a chance. A chance we can give her .

Ronan’s voice repeating those words are playing like a record in my mind.

They sounded familiar when he’d stood in Bryce’s office saying them, asking us to give Emmie a chance.

I didn’t connect the dots before. Out of every Olympian we knew, Ronan was the last one I’d expect to be behind something like this.

“Ronan swam freestyle.” God, that was such a dumb thing to say because what he swam and what he, apparently, named his organization doesn’t have to go hand-in-hand.

“Maybe he named it that on purpose,” Josie says with a shrug, examining her nails before bringing out a file.

I can’t help but frown as my eyes follow her. How long has she known and not told me?

And because she can read my mind, she frowns right back. “Did you not know?”

“No! What could possibly make you think I knew that?”

“I thought you knew! You were the one who was always doing research into stuff like this—deciding what organizations we wanted to support. You’ve donated to Operation Fly. I figured you knew and didn’t want to talk about it.”