Page 124 of Stroked by (Stroked)
I finally did it.
I fucking did it!
Tearing my cap and goggles off my head, I toss them up on the deck, and use the buoy line to keep me afloat as I grip my eyes while tears fall down my cheeks. Emotions clog my throat as the crowd continues to chant for me. Pulling my hand away, I look up at the stands and take in this moment, committing it to memory, letting the noise drown out everything else around me.
With one lift of my arm, I address the fans as a thank you, causing them to cheer even louder. Shaking my head, I lower it to the water and rest my forehead on the buoy line, astonished and amazed over my very last race.
This is a moment I will never forget.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
**PAISLEY**
“Reese, Reese, Reese!”
Tears cloud my vision as I watch fans from around the world cheer on the man who rests in my heart.
He did it. He finally did it.
More tears fall down my cheeks out of relief, out of joy, out of pure happiness for the man who has spent almost his entire life trying to accomplish this one goal.
Multiple silvers and one gold.
No longer will he be The Silver Stroke; no longer will he have to look back at his career and regret what he’s done. This one single win will validate everything he’s ever worked for, every five a.m. practice, every lift in the weight room, and every pass he’s made on something sweet.
It’s all paid off for this moment.
The cheers get louder once Reese is called to the podium as gold medalist. Leaning forward, I steeple my hands at my chin and cry as pure joy and the most gorgeous smile in this world crosses his face.
Wearing his Team USA warm-ups, he stands tall on the podium and ducks his head as someone of high importance places the gold medal around his neck. With a quick handshake, the man steps away, giving Reese all the glory. Holding the medal up to his face, he kisses it while his other hand raises a bouquet of flowers over his head.
Quickly, I grab my phone and take a picture of him. I know there will be pictures all over the Internet later of this exact moment, but I want to have this for myself, to remember that even though we were miles apart and out of each other’s lives, I was still there in spirit. I still was there to witness the greatest moment of Reese’s life.
The announcers note the flags ready to be raised as Reese lowers his arm and places it over his heart. The deep bass of drums ring through the stadium as the national anthem starts to play. The camera pans on the flags, being raised, the American Flag waving strong in the middle. A close-up of Reese comes on screen and my breath escapes me as I take him in. His eyes are watering as he mouths the lyrics to our national anthem, not being shy about the emotional journey he’s taken to get to where he is.
“So he finally did it,” Jonathan says from behind me, talking to me for the first time since I’ve been back. When he saw me walk through the door with my bags at my side a few days ago, my eyes puffy and red, he didn’t say anything to me, he just let me cry in my room by myself. In the mornings, there would be breakfast waiting for me at my door, and at night, dinner was brought to me but never a word was spoken until now.
“Yeah,” I choke out, unable to say anything else, my eyes glued on the TV.
“Good for him,” Jonathan says sincerely.
Carefully, he sits next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulder. I don’t even put up a fight. I lean into his warmth and let him comfort me as more tears fall down my face. What were once happy tears have now turned into tears of grief from the loss of our relationship.
“You love him, don’t you?” Jonathan asks.
I nod and say weakly, “So much.”
“Did he end it?” Jonathan’s voice has a harsh tone to it, but I quickly shake my head because I don’t want him to get mad at Reese once again.
“No, I did.” I catch my breath and say, “Bellini caught us and gave me an ultimatum. Either destroy Reese or destroy myself.”
“You chose yourself.” I nod again. This time, Jonathan brings me in even closer and kisses the top of my head. “We will get through this, Pay.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“No.” He kisses my head again. “I can’t stay mad at you, sweetheart. These last few weeks have been the worst of my life. I’m sorry I was such a tool to you. No matter what you did to piss me off, I should never have treated you with the disrespect I did. You didn’t deserve that.”
“You were right though. Here I am, without Reese and without a job. I should have listened to you.”
