Page 45 of The Last Five Yards

He lifts his brows.

She drops her gaze. “I am afraid of letting people down.”

“Same thing,” he says softly. “Loss is not just scores and placements. Loss is disappointment. Loss is being wrong. Loss is not being in control.”

Her chest tightens.

“You are not the whole machine,” he adds. “You never were.”

The words land deeper than she expects.

Heat crawls up her neck. She swallows. She has known this for years but never let herself sit with it. If she was not the whole machine, then she could not guarantee outcomes. Could not promise wins. Could not protect the kids who needed protection.

And she hated that.

She thinks of the girls who cried after bad races. The ones who quit mid-season because life got too heavy. The ones who hid in the bathroom, because they were afraid of disappointing someone.

She had carried all of that like it belonged to her.

He glances at the soaked laptop. “And no spreadsheet in the world can stop life from splashing all over your plans.”

The words sting.

He stands, lifting his box. “Do the interview, Maren.”

Her heart stutters.

He pauses in the doorway. “Take care of my pool.”

Then he is gone.

The quiet closes in again.

Maren picks up her phone and opens her email.

Head Swim Coach Interview Availability.

Her pulse taps at her throat.

She clicks the link.

A calendar opens.

Tuesday at ten.

She taps it before she can second-guess herself.

The confirmation screen appears.

She exhales shakily. One, two, three, four.

She stares at the screen until the glow blurs. Nothing dramatic. No flash of triumph. Just a small line of text that says she is committed now.

Her hands shake. Not from fear. Not exactly. More like trembling after a race that pushed her to her limit. Shaking that means she has done something hard.

Something she cannot take back.

She sits with that for a moment, letting the choice settle in her bones.