Return to Us (3 page)

“You know what—” I start to say, raising my voice. But then I feel the eyes. Lots of watching eyes. Both Stevie and I turn to face the gym entrance and see four of the girls, including Karen, and Nina Jones staring at us.

We turn and walk in separate directions—me headed toward the tumble track and Stevie toward her teammates and Nina. I’m still breathing hard from holding back all the insults I’d wanted to throw her way.
What the hell?
My triple back is way more solid than my damn twisting skills. Maybe because she hasn’t seen me land it outside of the pit, but this isn’t gymnastics, we get a nice soft landing zone in power tumbling. It’s not that different than coming down onto mats stacked in the foam pit.

Whatever. Why do I even care what she thinks?

For a full forty-five minutes, no one bothers me and I work through pass after pass ,then do a shit-ton of pull-ups and leg lifts. By the time Nina moves in my direction, I’m drenched in sweat and I’ve worked off most of my anger.

“Go stand over by the bars and watch that one.” Nina points at Karen, prepped with her grips already on. “I’ll end up retiring early if I have to see another failed attempt at a dismount. And don’t let her get hurt.”

Sure, Nina. Thanks for asking so nicely. How about you add me to your payroll before ordering me around.

I walk toward Karen, feeling all the relief from last night dissolve with each step. What if she can’t do it anymore? What if our midnight practice session was a fluke? I should have sat on her again and made her do it ten more times. No, twenty.

I remove my sweaty T-shirt and toss it onto the floor beside the bars and then stand near the high bar. Karen is focused straight ahead on the low bar, but judging by the tension in her jaw, I’d say she’s seconds away from punching me again. I rub my cheek, feeling the bruised skin. Then she’s jumping into her mount and all I can do is hold my breath and hope my intervention did some good.

One thing I do know, this chick does some awesome gymnastics when she’s pissed off.

I back away a few steps, giving her space to work through the beginning of her routine, but when she gets to that layout Jaeger release, I can tell she’s not gonna catch. I lunge forward and grab her around the waist before she lands flat on her stomach. The second she’s steady on her feet, she shoves me so hard, the back of my head smacks into the metal leg of the uneven bars.

“There’s a mat under the bar, TJ,” she snaps, heading for the chalk bowl again. “I don’t need you to catch me.”

“I’m doing what Nina told me to, just like you are.”

She glares at me. “She said to make sure that I don’t get hurt. Seriously, back off!”

I glance over my shoulder and see Jordan sitting in the bleachers, his expression hard but mostly unreadable. I hold my hands up in surrender. “Fine. Have it your way. I hope you fall on your face this time, Campbell.”

Yeah, Mr. Romance back there is not gonna like that one. Guess I’ll deal with him later.

Karen laughs, but not the humorous kind. “I hate you.”

“Like I care.” I tuck my arms behind my back, proving my backing off status. “Go! You’re wasting time.”

Her level of pissed off goes from a seven straight to a ten and it’s plastered on her face for everyone to see as she mounts the bars. I have to dig my blunt fingernails into my wrist to keep from having my hands at the ready when she does that crazy Jaeger release move. Watching her prepare for her dismount and not being on the spotting block where I can actually help is pure agony. Right before she lets go, I see her head slam into the bar and have to shake the image away.

Her release is timed perfectly. She floats through that dismount like it’s fucking easy when I know it isn’t.

Bam. Feet smack into the mats, sinking the blue material and holding firmly in place. The gym is silent, not that it’s ever too loud during these early morning workouts, but it’s dead silent now.

“Thank God,” Nina’s voice rings loud and clear from across the gym.

A few of the girls shout out some good jobs, but I don’t turn. My gaze is glued to Karen who keeps her head down and shuffles quickly back to the chalk bowl. She doesn’t acknowledge anyone that comes up to her. It’s like we’re not even here. There’s no relief on her face. And then she’s back on the bar again.

She’s not over it yet,
I realize right then. She needs those twenty hit routines under her belt to really relax. I stand there, not as anxious as before, watching for nearly thirty minutes as she does five more routines identical to the one she just did, then she works dismounts only, clocking in another ten hits.

Finally Nina yells at her to move on to balance beam. Karen brushes past me with a deliberate force. I grab her arm, stopping her. “It’s not over. You had one good workout. Don’t go putting yourself on top of that podium yet.”

She shakes out of my grip, shooting daggers at me. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been doing this practically my whole life. How long have you been doing your stupid tumbling?”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “Long enough.”

“Really?” She raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“You know what—” I start to say, but get interrupted by the hands now gripping the back of my shirt.

Jordan yanks me a few feet away from Karen and then releases my shirt, using his palms to give me a shove in the chest. For a few seconds, my head explodes with rage, my muscles twitching, anticipating a fight. I don’t get grabbed from behind and not at least break a few fingers, maybe a jaw. It’s instinct to swing. The action runs thick in my blood.

Calm the fuck down, TJ, you just touched his girlfriend and yelled at her.

The storm dies down inside me. Karen’s eyes are wide, bouncing between the two of us, but Nina Jones is now standing between me and Jordan.

All Nina does is shake her head, point at the door, and say, Uh-uh. Not in my gym.”

Karen scurries over to the beams, her head down, and Jordan stalks toward the gym doors. I take a deep breath and follow him outside. I don’t know what else I expected to happen. Of course Jordan’s gonna want to take a swing at me.

If it were my girlfriend and I was him… Yeah, it wouldn’t be pretty. That’s for damn sure.

“You wanna hit me?” I supply, ready to get this over with.

“Definitely.” He turns to face me, clenching his fists at his sides.

I fold my arms over my chest. “Okay, fine.”

Jordan leans against the building, his arms now mimicking my position. “I want to but I’m not going to.”

I try not to look surprised, but seriously? Nobody is that tolerant. “Look, I’m not trying to screw with her—”
Oh shit
. Bad choice of words.

“I know that,” he says, surprising me again. “It took me awhile to realize this, but I can’t do what you’re doing. Not with Karen.”

My mouth falls open, but it takes a second for me to figure out the words I want to use, probably because my body had been so keyed up for a fight. “You can’t tell her to get her ass in gear and do a freakin’ bar dismount?”

“No, I can’t,” he admits. “I think deep down, I don’t care if she does it or not. Of course if that’s what she wants, then I want her to figure it out. But really, I just want her to be happy. And that makes me incapable of—”

“Pissing her off on purpose,” I finish, finally understanding what he’s trying to say. The tough love, hard-ass stuff is not his job.

But then again, I don’t want it to be my job either. I just need to get that shitty crash out of my head.

“It’s not exactly the same with my dad and Karen, but it’s close. He pushes her, but it’s quiet and technical and he would have backed off long before you did. He’s her support, too, so that kind of sucks for her gymnastics.”

I shrug. “Maybe not. It means she’s doing it for herself. Not like these rich-ass kids constantly looking for approval from their coaches.”

“Maybe.” He shakes his head, focusing on something over my shoulder. “Maybe she is doing this for someone else. Who the hell knows? Maybe she’s gonna quit in a few months and buy a motorcycle and join the circus. Maybe fall in love with some guy on a Harley or—”

I hold a hand up to stop him. What is this dude smoking? Seriously. “Dude, what are you smoking?”

There. I’ve got back my skill of saying exactly what’s on my mind.

Jordan laughs. “Nothing.”

“Maybe that’s the problem?”

Some kind of invisible force swoops in and dissolves all the tension between us. Without another word, we both start heading in the direction of our cabin. So much for being mortal enemies.

“All I’m saying is,” Jordan adds after a minute of walking in silence, “she could be happier doing something else. She could be happier with someone else eventually. What if she’s suddenly into guys that insult her and piss her off and dive to her rescue in the middle of horrible uneven bar dismounts…”

Now that is unexpected. “Okay… yeah, no.”

“What do mean, no?” He eyes me carefully. “She acts like she hates you, but—”

“No,” I say firmly. “I mean, yeah, I get that she’s a girl and all, but she’s not like
a girl,
you know?”

He bends over and picks up a handful of rocks on the side of the path. “Still not clear.”

“I don’t have the hots for your girlfriend.”

Jordan releases a breath. “Okay.” I wait for him to press me for more details. I really didn’t think he’d go
there,
but whatever. He tosses one of the rocks into the trees. “I’m going to California.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, Karen’s not gonna be anywhere near the west coast and what if I warped her or something? Like I made her think we were perfect together and really she needs to…” He shudders like he’s about to talk about spiders crawling in his mouth while he’s sleeping. “What if she needs to, you know… date other people? Like experiment? Maybe the unselfish thing to do is man-up and break up with her before I leave so she can focus on gymnastics and whatever she wants to focus on.”

“That sounds like a fucking terrible idea,” I say. I’ve never liked the same girl for very long—or in many cases they’ve never liked me for very long—so what do I know? But my auto mechanic uncle used to say, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” all the time when I was kid. Seems like the saying might apply here.

Jordan glances at me, a small amount of hope returning to his face. “Really?”

Uh-oh. This is not an area that I want any involvement in. I don’t want to be responsible for shit like this. Ever. I got enough to do just worrying about myself. “Hell if I know. You should probably ask someone who actually has a girlfriend. I prefer to hook up and then break up with as little in between as possible.”

How did we go from him being ready to beat my ass to this deep discussion on unselfish acts of love? Considering my gift for the selfish acts, I’m really not the best person to help him out, even if I were willing.

Jordan nods and says, “Right.”

We both walk into the cabin, but before I get in the shower I stop him. “Are we cool? Seriously? You can hit me if it helps the pride thing or whatever.”

He cracks a smile. “You keep up your tough love stuff with Karen and I might not be able to stop myself next time.”

“Noted.” And yeah, it’s noted but that doesn’t mean I’ll back off of pushing Karen. Especially if she shows any hesitation with that dismount. But I respect his right to hit me next time. We both gotta do what we gotta do.

“I’m supposed to tell you that I’m wearing new boots.”

Jordan lifts his head and looks up at me. He’s kneeling on the ground, tightening the buckles on the hiking backpack he found for me. “We’ll check for blisters when we hit three miles. Did you get the right size and are you wearing liner socks?”

“Yes and yes.”

He stands up and straps his own backpack on again and points down the trail. I can’t say this journey so far has been completely relaxed—both of us are acting more polite than normal—but it hasn’t been as awkward as I’d imagined, considering the tension between us over the last couple weeks.

And even though I’m a girl on a mission right now (as Stevie reminded me about twenty times before Jordan and I took off this morning), I can’t help but enjoy the distance from the gym and the wide open space. I totally need this.

“How many miles is this trail again?” I ask. If we’re checking my feet at three miles, we must be going at least twice that, right?

“Eight,” Jordan says, flashing me a smile. “Think you can handle it?”

I laugh. “We’re about to find out.”

His fingers brush the back of my neck, giving me a squeeze and then he leans closer and kisses my cheek. My heart flutters from that small contact—something we haven’t had any of in days due to a number of reasons, one of them being Jordan’s secret floating between us.

This mission might be easier to implement than I originally thought. I’m dying for some intense Jordan Bentley kisses right now. I stop on the path and turn to face him. His mouth falls open like he’s ready to talk about something serious. And then I hear it. The distant sound of water rushing over rocks.

“Is that… ?”

“A waterfall?” he finishes, the smile returning to his face. “It’s one of many we’ll see on this hike.”

“Well, let’s go then.” I grab his hand and tug him down the path. “How far is it?”

“About a mile away.” Jordan takes a drink from his water bottle and passes it to me. “It’s hot now and it’ll get colder when we climb up, so you gotta stay hydrated.”

“When did you learn all this outdoorsman stuff?” I stare at the bottle for a moment before taking a swig. A year ago, I would have never shared a drink with anyone. Well, maybe Blair if it was to prevent dehydration.

“Nothing fancy,” he says. “I just took off to go camping on the weekends every summer I’ve been here and stuff would go wrong, I’d come back, tell someone, and then figure out how to keep from freezing to death at night or being eaten alive by mosquitoes… that kind of stuff.”

“And blisters,” I remind him. “You learned about blisters.”

“Also by experience.”