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"I haven't had this much sex since I was in my twenties."

Mia laughs, rolling over to snuggle against my side. "I find that hard to believe. You're mister reformed playboy Olympian."

I graze my fingers down her bare back, tracing the tattoo of a crystal I'd already memorized. A citrine tower, she'd told me when I first asked about it, because it enhances mental clarity for manifesting dreams and goals.

"You know that's a lie. I got caught having fun a couple of times in my early twenties, and it became my whole identity.

" Her kiss to my pec tells me she knows this to be true and a reminder that she sees the real me.

"Besides, having to learn how to walk again put a bit of a damper on my love life.

Did you know Bryce is the worst wingman to ever exist in history? "

"Considering all the help he needed from literally everyone else, I'm not at all surprised."

We lie there in silence for a few more minutes, enjoying one another's company.

Before too long, though, the stiffness that's been building in my leg for the last several days becomes unbearable.

Groaning, I gently push her back so I can sit up and stretch out my leg. Her eyes are locked on my back.

"Do you need me to get you anything?"

I shake my head, slowly standing. I turn to face her and nod toward my bathroom. Which I think might be the one place in the house she hasn't seen yet. "Come on, let's take a bath."

She balks at the suggestion. "You're joking, right? You must be joking."

"Why would I be joking? My leg is stiff as hell, and I want to soak in the tub with my gorgeous girlfriend, who I had another round of mind-blowing sex with."

"Your leg hurts because you keep insisting on having mind-blowing sex with your girlfriend on hard surfaces or insist on carrying her."

"I'm willing to deal with the consequences to my actions," I reply, holding out my hand. "Now come on, let's take a bath."

"It's not going to work, Ronan. You're a giant and I'm a size twenty or twenty-two. There is no way in hell the two of us are going to fit in a standard sized bathtub."

I bend forward to grab her wrist and tug her toward me. I may not be a professional athlete anymore, but I haven't let up on my strength training. "Good thing it's not a standard bathtub then. Come on, baby."

Reluctantly, she gets out of bed and follows me to the bathroom.

As soon as I flick on the light, she lets out a surprised gasp, just as I expected she would.

The bathtub was one of the selling points for this place, because I definitely cannot soak in a standard one.

This one, however, is extra wide and long, practically the size of a small hot tub, with depth that allows a good soak.

The two of us will be rather comfortable in there.

I lead her over to sit on the edge while I start the water, making it as warm as possible without burning on skin so we can stay in longer. Another selling point was the brand-new water heater. She watches me with amusement as I get the Epsom salts from the shelf and add them to the water.

Before long, the two of us are sinking into the warmth of the bath with relieved sighs. She rests between my legs, leaning most of her weight against my chest.

Despite how intimate we've been the last four or so weeks, this takes it to a whole other level, and it might be one of my favorite moments.

Silence fills the room, neither one of us feeling the need to break it.

Mia's fingers mess with my hand, where it rests on her stomach, turning it over to trace her nails along the lines of my palms. Both of us are as content as could be.

"Don't tell me you know palmistry, too?" I keep my tone low and quiet, not willing to be the one who breaks the silence.

She lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "No, but it's kind of fascinating, isn't it? The way these lines can tell a story—how they reflect your life?"

I press a kiss against her temple, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. "Is there anything witchy or witchy adjacent you don't find fascinating?"

“Curses,” she answers immediately. “I may be the mean friend, but I’m not mean enough to curse anyone.”

“I don’t think you’re mean,” I murmur. “You’re protective of yourself and the people you love. There’s a difference.”

“Then why is Bryce scared of me?”

I tangle our fingers together. “Because he hurt someone you are protective of, and he knows it. He’s probably going to spend the rest of his life trying to prove to you how sorry he is and that he’ll never do it again.”

“He can make it up to me by proposing to her already,” she grumbles. “I hate keeping secrets from Josie, but that ring needs to be on her finger. He keeps texting me ideas and I keep shooting them down. Josie won’t want it to be public or overly extravagant.”

There are days there where I forget our friend’s impending engagement.

The moment Bryce told us felt odd to me.

I’m only a little older than him, but for a good chunk of those years, it felt like a bigger gap.

He was still in his early twenties, barely an adult, when I had my accident and the way he stepped up as a friend, as someone who looked up to me, made me realize how fleeting moments are for each of us.

It happens slowly and then all at once. One day, you still feel like a kid who’s fighting to be seen for who they really are, but also not quite ready to handle serious things, and the next, you’re staring adulthood straight in the face and wondering where your youth went.

“I can’t believe they’re going to get married.”

“They’re not getting married because he’s too much of a chicken shit to propose to her. I swear, if he doesn’t do it soon, I will.”

I can almost picture it. Mia, too frustrated waiting, finding the ring, and dragging Bryce along with her until they find Josie.

There would be no ceremony, no pomp or circumstance, she’d plop down on one knee and do it for him.

But I can’t let her do that; they deserve their moment.

“Give him time. He wants it as perfect as you do.”

With a long, drawn-out sigh, she tilts her head back to look at me.

Unable to resist, I lean down to kiss her.

I don’t know if she was planning to say anything else, or plead her case, but the kiss seems to relax her.

When we separate, she settles further against me, her eyes drifting closed as I hold her tighter, relaxing into the silence.

"You all did a great job tonight!" I tell the team, who are all beaming up at me. "Our first meet is the second week of September, so just over a month away. And we're hosting it here."

The entire team cheers, getting pumped up for the first meet as a team.

Most of them are coming off high school teams, deciding to go the club route all year.

Since we're registered with the National Swimming Federation, we must adhere to their rules, which means we can race against high schools, but our swimmers cannot be on both teams. For a lot of them, this will be their first time facing their high school friends as rivals, and I'm anxious to see how it goes.

"Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow you have a weight training session," I remind them. "I'll see you all at six tomorrow morning."

I bite back a grin as I'm met with nothing but groans from annoyed teenagers.

As a new club and a new team, I tried to keep early morning practices to a minimum, preferring evening or daytime practices during the summer.

The closer we've gotten to competition season, I've started moving the practices to better reflect what the schedule will look like during the school year.

Which typically means practices every morning, and an occasional practice or workout after school.

A couple of the kids stop to ask me questions, or talk about their practices, so it's surprising to me when I turn and find Emmie patiently sitting on the bench.

"Hey, you okay?"

When she looks up at me, there's something in her eyes that I can't quite read, but I don't think I like it.

Immediately, a hundred thoughts run through my head.

Has something happened with Liam? Has he decided he can't take being a caregiver?

I know he got a new job, but what if it's not what he wants, and he’s decided to move back to Charleston with Emmie?

"I need to talk to you," she admits .

"Sure." I smile, taking a seat on the bleachers. "What's going on? Getting nervous about the meet?"

While this may be the first meet some of these kids experience swimming for a club, it'll be her first meet ever.

I don't remember my first meet ever; I was too young to retain the memory.

I do, however, remember what it felt like the first time I stepped up to a block and realized I loved racing and I loved swimming.

It's still in the list of my most life-changing moments.

Emmie will get both experiences rolled into one.

"No." She grins, relaxing in a way that screams confident swimmer. A second later, though, her shoulders hunch back up. "Because I won't be swimming in the meet."

My brain comes to a screeching halt. I knew this was a possibility, especially given everything she has going on, but I never let myself fully consider it happening.

That she could still walk away from this sport despite all the time we put into improving her swimming, despite how much she loves it, and despite her natural talent.

"May I ask why?" I question. "And why now?"

She shrugs, not meeting my gaze anymore. "I just…everything has changed in my life and this isn't what I want anymore."

Bullshit. I know it's bullshit, but I won't call her out on it. Just like I don't want any kid to feel like they have to swim for their parents’ approval, I don't want any kid to feel like they're forced to see it through to avoid disappointing me.

"I will not ask you to stay, if this is truly the decision you want to make." I'm trying to keep my voice steady when every fiber of my being wants to demand real answers.

"It is." She won't look me in the eye, but I'm feeling pretty hopeless about getting a real answer out of her.

Swallowing hard, I have no choice but to let her go. "All right then. If you change your mind, I don't know if you'll be able to come back. We haven't discussed what it would mean if a scholarship swimmer walked away from the team."

When I look back at her, I can see she's trying to school her look of pure panic into one of indifference. She nods and mumbles, "I understand."

I want her to talk to me, to tell me where this is coming from. I want to see if I can offer her some kind of help, but her walls are tall this time, and I'm not going to be the one knocking them down.

"I need to get home." She hops up from the bleacher, heading toward the locker room before stopping to turn back. "Thank you, Coach. For taking a chance on me."

Now take a chance on yourself , I silently plead. Out loud, though, I reply, "I stand by what I said the day we met. I think you're worth taking the chance on."

Ducking her head, she turns away to continue down the deck. She passes Mia on the way, who smiles at her, and slows to a stop to chat. Emmie says something to her before scurrying away. Mia frowns before looking down the deck toward me. I stand to greet her as she picks up her pace.

"What is that all about?" Her eyes are searching my face the second she reaches me, probably able to see the disappointment clearly written out. "Ronan?"

I shrug, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my sweats. "I don't know. She wouldn't talk to me. Just told me she couldn't do it anymore and quit."

Mia's eyes widen, her jaw dropping open on a gasp. " What ? No way. That can't be what she wants!"

"I don't think it is, but I'm not going to push her, Mia." I don't know if she gets the underlying message, that I don't want to do to another kid what my parents did to me, but I need her to believe me. "She wouldn't talk to me. "

She glances over her shoulder to watch Emmie disappear into the locker rooms, then looks back up at me. "Do you think she'll talk to me? She loves swimming, Ronan. You were there when she lit up at your kitchen table. There's something else going on. There has to be."

She's right. The way Emmie looks whenever she's in the water or talking about swimming is pure passion.

It's the same look I saw light up the eyes of my friends and competitors long after my parents dimmed it in my own.

If there's even a slight chance that Mia could get her to open up, and I'm thinking there's a pretty good one, then we might be able to forget about this.

"Maybe," I tell her. "I do think it'd be good for you to try."

She doesn't waste a second, leaning to press a kiss to my cheek, and give my arm a squeeze before she's jogging down the deck toward the locker room.

A harsh whistle blows from somewhere behind me, followed by Carter yelling, "Walk!"

But Mia doesn't listen. She also doesn't flip him off this time, so it might be progress all around.

"Rude of her to not listen to me."

" Fuck, " I exclaim, practically jumping out of my skin. Carter is standing next to me, looking a little smug. "Where the hell did you come from?"

He grins. "I wasn't quiet, man. Where is she going in such a hurry?"

"She's trying to talk Emmie out of quitting."

“Oh, shit,” Carter breathes.

"Yeah." I turn to look at him. "I'm hoping she can change that, though.”