Craig glanced sideways. As usual, his father was pacing alongside the pool as he swam, yelling what he probably thought was encouragement. As he dipped his head into the water his father’s words cut in and out like a flickering radio station.
Craig Sr. had been an NCAA contender, but never quite a champion. He’d groomed his son almost from the time he could walk. Swim clubs, private coaching, an NCAA scholarship to a state school.
Craig focused on his stroke, that old familiar weight of water pushing against his limbs as he swam.
God, how he hated it.