When Mrs. Kavanagh spoke again, her brow was knit in concern. “I love my son with all my heart, but sometimes, I wish he would remember to be seventeen and let go a little. Have fun. Fall in love. Break the rules. Be a teenager instead of a—” “Machine?” I offered quietly. “Yes,” his mother agreed, nodding eagerly. “His food intake, the training, the traveling, the sponsors, all of it…it’s scary.” She sighed again, brows creasing. “I just want him to let loose every once in a while. I know how that sounds coming from a mother, but he’s so controlled. Every part of his life is completely
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