Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“You can do this, Willow.” I kissed the top of her head and squeezed her even harder.
“I’m—I’m…f-fuck.” She was going nonverbal.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I murmured. “Talking is overrated anyway. It’s okay. I’ll be here.”
Pipsqueak would probably be nonverbal after today too. She didn’t get overwhelmed as easily as Willow, but an event like this was bound to do it. Thankfully, she had a place in the locker rooms where she could catch some quiet time whenever she needed. Her coach was really supportive about it.
“You ready for me to handle everything?” I asked.
Willow nodded minutely.
“I’ll take you straight to Darius,” I promised. “He’s saving us seats. We’ll squeeze you right in between us. How’s that?”
Another nod.
“Okay. I’ll keep the path clear. Just hold on to my arm and stay a little behind me.” I let her go slowly and remembered to tuck her hair behind her ears before I put on her headphones. All the quirks these two girls had… But once you tapped into their language, it was pretty fucking amazing to be given their trust.
On the way in—and toward the bleachers—I took a couple detours to avoid the crowds near the two concession stands.
Willow stayed close to me and appeared to relax a little. Perhaps she’d imagined something worse than this.
The noise at the pool was probably what bothered her the most, though the headphones drowned out some of it. What bothered me the most was the humidity. Christ. I loosened my tie and scanned the packed bleachers for familiar faces. There were seven rows that stretched the length of the pool, and I was glad it was a short-course meet. If it’d been a fifty-yard pool, it would’ve been impossible to find the Quinns.
I spotted Ethan around the same time he spotted me, and I drew Willow toward my front instead. I pointed them out to her. They’d gotten seats fairly close to an aisle, meaning we wouldn’t be knocking any people down on our way there.
Willow nodded and clutched my hand, then climbed the steps to the fourth row, and Darius stepped out and extended his hand when we got near.
“We got you, baby girl,” he said.
She flew into his arms without letting go of my hand. I chuckled and went with her.
Willow flushed and smiled sheepishly as Darius and I made truth of my words and squeezed her in between us.
Okay, we’d made it. Now I could focus on Pipsqueak.
Darius filled me in about what I’d missed; Mary was in the locker room with Pipsqueak, and they would come out right before her heat. She had two in total, the first one being the 100-yard freestyle. Medley came last in the day, and she’d do 400 yards. I suspected that was what she was the most nervous about.
I had no doubt she’d perform well. She advanced very quickly. She was single-focused and dropped everything around her when she started a new hobby.
In a short period of time, she’d climbed the metaphorical ranks and become one of the fastest girls on the team.
“Over there.” Ethan pointed to where the swimmers went in and out of a set of doors, presumably leading to the locker rooms.
My stomach flipped and tightened weirdly when I saw her. She wasn’t the twelve-year-old in PJs and messy pigtails I’d had her catalogued as in my mind. Pipsqueak was slowly but surely becoming an extraordinary young woman. She walked with purpose in her step, Mary walking alongside her and offering her what I assumed was a pep talk. Whatever she said made Pipsqueak nod firmly.
She only wore a hoodie that was at least two sizes too large, while Mary held her towel, water bottle, and swim cap.
The event was announced over the speakers, and I knew Pipsqueak was in the second heat. Her goal was to score a time good enough to start in the first heat next meet. Or something like that. The terminology was confusing at times.
Six swimmers were introduced for the first heat, not that I paid attention. I didn’t pay attention when one of the officials signaled the swimmers to start either. My eyes were glued to Pipsqueak and Mary down in the corner. Soon, her coach joined them too.
Pipsqueak nodded along to whatever the guy was saying as she shed her hoodie and revealed her black bathing suit. A set of showers was nearby, and she stepped under one to cool down a bit. This part, I knew. She was sensitive to drastic temperature changes; they could shock her if it happened too quickly.
She was finished once she’d donned her cap and goggles, and then she joined the group of girls who were waiting in the background at the short end of the pool. They were next.
Christ, I felt kind of nervous.
Watching her stand there next to the other girls put her in a league of her own. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but she stood out. Two of the girls looked like they’d trained for the event their whole lives, and they’d already developed the swimmer’s body, complete with wider shoulders and flat chests. The other girls were here for the credits. Hips cocked, bubble gum popping, giggling—one of them was checking her phone. And then there was Pipsqueak. Softness and grace. Her posture screamed of razor-sharp focus without giving her a militant look. She jumped in place, rolled her shoulders, and adjusted her bathing suit.