Clean Point

45 Scottie

45

The Great War – Taylor Swift

We were hardly out of the steaming shower, trying to wash off a night spent twisted up in sheets, when there was a knock at the hotel room door. One glance at Nico’s equally confused face told me he hadn’t somehow secretly ordered breakfast before he hopped in with me. Too bad.

‘What if it’s Jon?’ I whispered, as if they could hear. I sped up, drying myself off with the fluffy towel. Nico’s face flattened as he tucked the edge of his in, securing it just low enough to make me want to unwrap him all over again.

He motioned between us. ‘I think it’s somewhat obvious to Jon what’s going on here.’

I rolled my eyes, switching from the towel to the hotel dressing gown, speedily tying it around my body, my hair wrapped up in a towel.

‘It’s probably housekeeping,’ he answered, before he read the apprehension in my eyes. ‘Do you want me to answer?’

‘No.’ My answer was said before I really gave myself time to think about it, but almost as soon as I declined, social anxiety kicked in. But we were in my room, and if it was anyone other than Jon, it would look odd to find Nico Kotas, chest bare and lower half only covered by a towel, in my room, no less. The press would have another field day.

I shook my head. ‘You stay here. I’ll go get the door.’ I took in a deep breath as all the possible options of who was actually there began to scroll through my head. Couldn’t I pretend to not be here?

‘Keeping me a secret, Sinclair?’ Nico’s wide smile, grey eyes so soft and light on me, still seemed a little strange. Despite the last few weeks, I wasn’t used to seeing him so unguarded. I hung on the end of every second with him, committing them to memory like it could slip away at any moment.

But the longer he stayed, the more reassured I felt that this wasn’t temporary. Like we both felt the same way, that his whispered ‘I love you’ spoken in between a trail of kisses as he traced the freckles on my back were truly real. And the possibility of that was enough to wrap me up warm, and squeeze my heart one notch too tight.

Another knock on the door interrupted my train of thought, keeping me paused in the doorway, before I turned to him, stretching up only to kiss him quickly on the lips.

‘Just keeping you to myself.’ I smiled. ‘I’m too selfish to share you.’

I gently closed the bathroom door behind me, hating every moment I was away from him, hating that he had to stay in the bathroom because of who could be on the other side of the door, obviously growing increasingly impatient as they knocked yet again.

I grabbed the doorknob before remembering the peep hole. Pressing my eye to the glass, I peered through, brows furrowing together at the sight of brown hair. When I finally opened the door, taking a moment to try to collect myself, I’d still not processed the single thought running through my head.

What the fuck is Dylan Bailey doing outside my room?

Her eyes narrowed on me instantly, as if it was instinct, her hand firmly on her hip as her lips pressed together into a firm line before she practically yelled, ‘You could’ve warned me.’

My brows creased together. ‘About what?’

She rolled her eyes at me, head tilting on huff. ‘Matteo? Your father?’

‘I’m pretty sure I tried,’ I huffed, fingers gripping the door as panic began to race through my body.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ She shrugged off my words with a careless wave of her hand. ‘Vague meaningless warnings from somebody I categorically don’t trust will not fight off the devil.’

‘What happened?’ I asked. She looked okay, relatively fine, that snarky mask of hers well in place. What had been so bad that it brought her to my doorstep?

It must’ve been my reaction, because she calmed down, the sarcasm turning serious as her brows raised. ‘Maybe you could at least invite me in first. Or do you plan on interrogating me on your doorstep?’

I hadn’t yet fully registered her words as I moved out of the way, and she strolled into my room as if it was no big deal. As if her being here didn’t signal that the worst had happened, that my actions had meant I’ve failed to protect another person.

She looked around the room, her gaze catching on the unmade bed, both sides clearly slept in. ‘Where’s Loverboy?’

I kept my eyes trained on her, trying not to give anything away. ‘Not here.’

I still didn’t know if I could trust her. After everything, she left Rhodes in the night with little more than a note telling Jon she was gone, and presumably ran straight to Matteo. There was still so much distance between us.

Her smirk only widened as her eyes went to the closed bathroom door. ‘Stuffed him in the bathroom? Real classy move there, Sinclair.’

My patience snapped, my own protective instinct riled up by her comment. ‘You know, Dylan, I don’t know what you want from me.’

I regretted for a moment all those times I’d tried to warn her about him, told her my door was open if she needed it. She obviously hadn’t listened to a single thing I’d tried to say, and whatever had gone down, I was sure to get the blame for it again.

Dylan fell silent, instead slinking her way around my room as if she was still hesitating about even being here. Reaching the small dining table beside the large window, she pulled a chair out, before unceremoniously, sitting down and crossing her legs. She took a moment to get comfy, as if wielding my own impatience against me.

‘I want in,’ she said bluntly, her eyes fixed on me. I paused, still reading the room, trying to put the pieces together.

‘On what?’ I asked carefully, narrowing on her again. I still kept my distance, standing across the room near the entrance. At least if she turned on me, I’d be closest to the exit.

‘Your revenge plot,’ she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I want to take down Matteo.’

I laughed. ‘Take him down? You brought him back. And what do you know about revenge? You don’t even know what happened.’ I waved her off, ready to turn to the door, not even the slightest bit interested. She had nothing to offer me but more confusing vague statements. Because if she knew what had happened, what had really happened, would she have shown up at my door?

‘I know he paid that umpire off.’

I hardly managed a single strangled word, turning again to look at her. ‘What?’ I tried desperately to scan her face for some sort of sign of a lie, waited for the joke to crack open and the moment to loosen the band tightening itself around my gut.

Instead, she continued, her expression remaining straight. ‘The one from your singles match? The one that made a real stink about everything you did, to the point where even I thought it was excessive. I saw them together. They shook hands, and I didn’t put it together until after your match.’

I shook my head. ‘That doesn’t prove anything.’

‘I sat next to Matteo during that match. He kept making these signals to the umpire. We all know what coaching during a game looks like, and it was like he was telling him what to do,’ she explained. I found myself sinking into the chair next to her, my legs unable to support my weight as I thought through her words, playing the memory back over.

I thought he’d been waving, trying to taunt me. But of course, he was smarter than that.

‘When I asked him what he was doing, he said he was friends with the umpire. Something didn’t sit right with me. He smiled and …’ she paused, pulling back into her seat, uncertainty – another new emotion for Dylan – spreading across her face. She shook her head. ‘It could be that they are just friends. But it felt like too much of a coincidence when I saw them together after.’

I sat silent, unsure of this new discovery. Could he really have done it again? Stolen yet another opportunity from me? But why?

Before, it was for his own gain, to see his name, the Rossi name, succeed again. I was just another trophy back then, something else for his mantle. And now I was on my own, with my own name, trying to reclaim what he’d stolen from me, but he’d denied me that opportunity once again. It began to dawn on me that he wouldn’t let me go so easily. I could change my name, wreck my reputation, and team up with his former rival, but it would never be enough.

I’d win on his terms or not at all.

‘I know now that he’s been playing me,’ she started again, her eyes breaking from mine as she closed them. Her lips pressed into a thin line as if she was trying to pull herself together for a moment. ‘At the villa … the failed test.’

I sat forward on the edge of my seat, realizing what was coming next. Matteo had warned me when I called him to ask him about the leak. ‘Not everyone in that villa is your friend,’ he’d said when I’d asked him how. I had my suspicions. Dylan had left the very next day, only to reappear by his side.

‘I told him, Scottie. I overheard you and Jon, and I assumed you were planning on cheating again. I called him up, told him what I had heard, and told him I wanted him to coach me. He agreed and told me to stay a few more weeks. When the story broke, I knew it was time to leave. I was so sure I knew what was happening. I’m sorry for that.’ I let her admission hang in the air, waiting for that rush of anger to hit me, the blame settling on the person responsible. How the test had come back a fail, I’d never know, but now I understood how it had all spun out. Instead, I only felt relief that I knew the truth now.

‘Thank you,’ I managed, catching her attention. I nodded toward her. ‘I appreciate you telling me.’

Her eyes stuck on mine, searching for an answer she hadn’t yet asked. I braced myself, knowing what was coming, and what it would take to finally tell her. I’d kept this part from her as much as she had kept her admission from me. Her voice was soft but demanding. ‘I know there’s more to this story, what happened between you and Matteo. I think I deserve to know.’

I swallowed down the uncomfortable lump in my throat, my clammy fingers ringing with the opposite hand. I couldn’t deny that after all this time, all this drama, she should learn the truth. If anyone else deserved this information, it was the other person who’d gotten swept up in Matteo’s game.

I’d told two people, my mum and Nico, and each time, it felt like walking right up to the edge of a sharp ledge. Every step closer was a risk that the earth below you could give way, that they might not believe what you said. It was dangerous ground to tread. I had to trust Dylan, keep the faith that she would accept my side of the story, and have the confidence in myself that if she didn’t, that if I walked all the way out on that ledge and fell, that I would eventually get back up again. No matter what, broken bones mended with time, and I would get back up again.

I took in a deep breath, filling my lungs up, and took a leap of faith.

‘Everything about the cheating at Wimbledon. It was all true.’ My fingers curled in, nails biting at the skin of my palms, pressing in and leaving small half-moon imprints. I reminded myself that this wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t twisting the situation. This was the truth, and Dylan was ready to listen and believe me. ‘But I didn’t know about the drugs. It was all Matteo.’

The words hung in the tight air between us, my heartbeat soaring as I tried to remain calm. I was stripped bare, the hurt resurfacing. It was the truth, and somehow, it was more painful than the lie I’d crafted, wrapped myself up in like it would protect me. But taking the blame hadn’t changed anything. He still found strings to pull.

‘And you didn’t think to tell anyone? For two years,’ she said the words straight and to the point. No bullshit, the way I’d learned Dylan always was.

‘I didn’t think anyone would believe me.’

‘You didn’t even try?’ she snapped, eyes narrowed on me.

‘I don’t think that’s fair. You have no idea what I’ve been through,’ I argued back, sick of apologizing. The lump in my throat refused to disappear. No matter how hard I’d tried to swallow, the hurt from years ago resurfacing, refusing to be put back in the box I’d kept it stuffed in. ‘Who was going to believe me? Against him, with no evidence? I had no chance.’

The air was full of tension, so tight I could hardly breathe. Then she let out a heavy sigh as her eyes pressed closed, a hand rising up to rest on her brow.

‘I’m sorry.’ I almost fell off my chair at the words. An apology coming from Dylan Bailey? If I looked out the window, would I find flying pigs?

When she spoke again, her tone was calmer but still with that edge of Dylan slice. ‘I’m not trying to be nasty, Scottie. I just want to understand why you’d keep this to yourself.’

I nodded, understanding her intention. I could see she was trying. That had to be something.

‘So,’ she said tentatively. ‘You took the blame and ran?’

My only answer was a wince. There were those words again. I had been running away the day Jon appeared on our doorstep, and Mum convinced me to hear him out. When Dylan had yelled at me in the garden, and again, when Nico found me on the practice court after and I told him the truth, thinking it would drive him away.

All I’d done was try to outrun Matteo, and I’d ended up in the exact place where he could use his influence over me to extract whatever result he wanted. A win or a loss, as long as it was what he wanted. I could still feel his control all over me, those strings I was tangled in. And it made me sick. I’d been running for two years, but I was exhausted. So out of breath that I’d stayed in one place just long enough to see that I’d never really escaped him. If I really wanted to be free of him, I needed a new game plan.

‘Scottie.’ My attention snapped to Dylan, realizing that I hadn’t given her an answer in a long time. ‘I know … we’ve never been close, right?’

At first, I wasn’t sure if it was a trick question. I slowly shook my head, waiting for some sort of cruel trick.

‘But when you won, that day at Wimbledon. I was bitter, and I held onto that. Do you know how many finals I’ve reached? Four. And I still don’t have a title that I’ve truly won. I’ve lost every single one. But that Wimbledon title – it haunted me. Because while it was mine, it really wasn’t? You know? We both know how it feels to lose, but to lose and then find out your competitor cheated? It felt like I’d been robbed of the thing I’d spent my entire life working toward. It never sat right with me, and I think I let you know that.’

I bit my lip, answering very carefully, still treading on new ground. ‘You have a very angry communication style.’

She nodded. ‘I’m in therapy, I promise.’

I almost laughed then, realizing as I held it back that I barely recognized her. She was no longer an enemy, at least temporarily. Her hand stretched out and met mine, her warm touch against my ice-cold palm.

‘I want you to know that I’m sorry for treating you that way. I was hurt, but I believe you.’

I felt the world shift under my seat, like a new lens had taken everything blurry and made it clear enough to see again. I couldn’t keep the tears back, my eyes filling up. I took my other hand and wiped them away, but I kept my left on hers, the warmth of her hand grounding me in my body.

‘You can’t let him get away with this. Not again,’ she said, her voice firm. She’d always had more fight than I did, on and off the court. If anyone was going to fight their hardest until the very end, it was Dylan. All this time, I was pushing her away, but maybe she was exactly the person I’d needed all along on my team.

On a deep exhale, I broke again, my hand gripping hers. ‘He’s not going to stop … is he?’

She shook her head, her eyes not leaving mine. ‘But you can end it. There will be some evidence with the umpire, we can get them to investigate it. With both of our stories, and considering I have absolutely no reason to take your side other than I believe you, we will force them to act. At the very least, stop him from hurting anyone else.’

She read the hesitation on my face. ‘Or we can set Loverboy free from the bathroom and make him force them.’ Somehow, she forced a gasping laugh through the tears running down my cheeks, just as a voice rose from the bathroom.

‘Does that mean I can come out now?’

Dylan was quick with her simple retort. ‘No. I’m quite happy to keep pretending that I’m not sitting in some sex den.’ She forced yet another laugh from me. ‘I don’t want to think about what you two animals have been doing on,’ she pulled herself up from the chair, looking around suspiciously, ‘every surface in this room.’

The door to the bathroom cracked open, revealing Nico wrapped up in his own robe this time, his hair still curly and wet from the shower. His expression was serious, but I could see the pride in his eyes. It felt like hours had passed since we were in there together. So much had changed.

‘So, can we do this?’ Dylan asked, pulling my attention back to her.

My answer was two years in the making. I’d stopped running long enough to let Nico in, to let myself come back to the sport I’d loved. I’d convinced myself that this life had been taken from me, that there was no return, nothing but the remnants of an old existence that I’d scarcely survived.

Now, I knew I could still have it. I just had to be willing to fight to keep it. All I needed to do was be brave enough to tell the truth.

‘Let’s end him.’