“So, you might know that Jasmine and I are close again?” I start.

“I’ve heard,” he says, nodding.

“We’ve been talking a lot about how the culture of gymnastics at this level is just totally messed up, particularly for girls,” I explain. “I mean, even injuries aside, there are the issues with food and body image, mental health, sexual assault… and we want to do something about it.”

“That’s great,” he says.

“We’re launching a support network,” I continue. “We’re calling it the Elite Gymnastics Foundation. We’ll connect gymnasts to mental health professionals.”

“Impressive,” he says. “You’re the perfect people to make that happen.”

His compliment warms me, but I can’t let it soften me toward him.

“Well, you might want to wait before you start saying nice things to me,” I warn. This is my last-ditch attempt to get him to listen to me: “I need you to turn down the Powerhouse job.”

He looks surprised.

“So, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I went to Powerhouse on my lunch break today. It was… intense.”

I purse my lips. “I’m sure it was.”

“I’ve heard your stories about what it was like to have him as your coach, but seeing it firsthand felt different,” he explains. “I didn’t like the way he treated his gymnasts. He made fun of them for getting winded during conditioning; he called them ‘sloppy,’ ‘lazy,’ ‘useless.’ He came up with these absurd punishments, like running laps for falling off beam during just a regular practice.”

“I don’t want to say I told you so, but… Ryan, come on, what did you expect?” I ask.

“It made me have serious doubts about taking the job,” he admits.

I’m shocked but hopeful.

“Well, obviously, you know what I think,” I say.

“I guess I just wanted to confirm with you—do you think what I saw today was a one-off, bad day? Or is that who he really is?” he asks, squinting like he already knows the answer.

“That’s just him,” I say.

Ryan leans his elbows onto the desk and presses his fingers to his temples. He exhales a ragged sigh.

“Okay, then,” he says, more to himself than to me, with a small shake of his head. He looks up at me with a resigned expression. “Then that’s that.”

There’s too much at stake for me to jump to conclusions.

“That’s… what?” I clarify.

“I can’t take the job,” he says.

I’m reeling at how quickly he changed his mind. I can’t wait to tell Jasmine. I almost can’t quite believe that I’m hearing him correctly. Despite how much I hoped Ryan would come around, deep down, I don’t know if I ever really believed he would.

“It’s not the dream job I thought it was—not if he’s like this,” he explains.