Page 64 of The Last Five Yards

Rowan stays where she is, breathing fast but staying above water. Panic, yes. But she isn’t sinking. She is not frozen entirely. She is waiting for directions.

Maren lifts her chin just enough that Rowan can see her.

“Deep breath,” she calls. “Reset.”

Rowan’s shoulders shake once. Then she inhales. Slow. Unsteady. But she does it.

The officials wave her back to the block.

Reese presses a hand to her chest like she is holding something in place.

Maren keeps her eyes on Rowan, steady and sure.

The official comes over to Rowan’s lane and speaks to her. Her face solemn as she pushes herself out of the pool, he continues to talk to her. The official steps back and motions to Rowan to take her spot behind the block.

Rowan nodded at whatever the official told her. She looks small for a moment, shoulders drawn in tight as she walks back to the block with wet feet slapping against the tile. Her goggles are crooked again. Her hands shake a little as she fixes them.

Maren starts to move toward her but stops. Rowan has already lifted her chin toward her. Waiting for her next words.

“Breathe,” Maren calls. “Settle in.”

Rowan takes one long inhale. Then another. The tremble in her hands quiets.

Maren can feel Reese watching, from the bleachers behind her. When she glances over her shoulder, Reese is standing completely still, her fingertips hovering near her mouth like she is keeping them from moving. Her eyes stay on Rowan, unblinking.

The head official gives a quick signal. The timers reset their watches. The pool falls back into that strange, heavy stillness.

Rowan climbs onto the block again. Her toes grip the edge. Her stance is tighter now, shoulder drawn in with focus rather than fear.

Maren lets out a breath she did not realize she was holding.

The long whistle sounds. All the swimmers fold forward, bodies poised and ready.

Maren keeps her gaze fixed on Rowan.

This time, Rowan does not flinch.

The buzzer blasts, sharp and final.

The swimmers launch into the water, a clean unified splash that breaks the silence in one powerful strike.

Rowan’s entry is clean. Better than Maren expected after a false start. Her first few strokes are stiff, but she finds her rhythm, and by the halfway mark, her arms cut through the surface with a new steadiness.

Maren walks along the deck, tracking her progress. By the turn, Rowan looks almost fierce. Determined. She kicks harder, pulling herself forward through the final stretch.

Finish hard. Races are won and lost in the last five yards.

Rowan swims like those are the only words she has ever heard.

Rowan hits the back half of the lane, and her stroke tightens again. This time from effort, not panic. Her kick picks up. Her face breaks the surface in quick, steady breaths. The noise around Maren fades because she cannot look anywhere else.

The last five yards always reveal the truth. Rowan digs in, arms churning, legs burning behind her in a steady drive. She touches the wall with a sharp slap that bounces off the tiles.

Rowan surfaces with wide eyes, then a grin that stretches until it almost splits her face. She pushes her goggles up and scans the deck until she finds Maren.

Maren nods. Small, simple, but enough to make Rowan glow like a spotlight found her.

Behind her, Reese releases a breath she has been holding for far too long. It is quiet, but Maren hears it like it is right beside her.