Clean Point

48 Scottie

48

The Alchemy – Taylor Swift

A glass of champagne in one hand, a trophy in the other, and Nico Kotas’s arms wrapped around my waist. The July sunset with an explosion of pink and orange across a London skyline. I could barely remember a life before him. A lonely life falling out of clubs and burning down yachts and two hot men in red suits.

‘You doing okay?’ Nico broke the silence, his head nuzzled into my shoulder, a soft breeze blowing in the garden. We had been at my mum’s house, a small party to celebrate our win, and the end of another Wimbledon. Inside, the house was full of friends, both Nico’s and mine, the loud buzz of the party filled the evening air as we hid in the temporary escape.

‘I’m good.’ I turned in his arms, placing the champagne down on the table to free one hand up. The trophy was glued to me. But still, I pushed slightly up on my toes, my lips easily reaching his. ‘You taste like champagne.’

‘That might have something to do with all the Laurent-Perrier your mom has been serving all night.’ He grinned, his face barely pulled back from mine. I’d never seen his eyes so clear, so bright.

We have everything.

‘Are you going to put that trophy down anytime soon?’ His gaze dipped momentarily to the left, the piece of silverware still tucked safely under my arm.

I grinned wildly, hugging it tighter. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Afraid somebody’s going to steal it?’ The sound of his laugh warmed my blood.

I somehow managed to tear myself from him for a second, stealing a peek inside the kitchen at the packed crowd, loud music and conversation mixing in the air. ‘Dylan is just inside.’

It was easy to spot her, cornered by Inés, wearing her usual scowl, her arms folded. I couldn’t blame her. I hadn’t expected her to stop by. She’d lost yesterday, another final. I’d still be recovering, but it was a good surprise when Inés had shown up with her in tow.

‘It was nice of you to invite her,’ he hummed, his lips pressing against the right side of my forehead.

So much had changed in the last few days. Starting with a knock on my hotel door and ending with a press conference where we put everything on the line. The ITIA had announced it was investigating Matteo, and the other coaches that had faced similar allegations from fellow players who’d come forward since.

There was a weird ease that came with the news. I’d convinced myself for two years nobody would believe me, and now that it was happening, I hadn’t quite let myself trust it. Not just yet. But I wasn’t on edge, waiting to turn around a corner and run into him. He didn’t have that power anymore.

‘I have this weird feeling like we might be friends now,’ I admitted.

‘Is she aware?’

‘I like to call it trauma bonding.’ I met his gaze again. ‘You know, I couldn’t have done this without you.’

‘You mean, you couldn’t have won doubles without your mixed partner?’ he teased, his arms tightening around my waist, holding me close to his body.

‘You know what I mean.’ I rolled my eyes at him, only for a moment, before I was back on him. Nico, the grumpy player who’d refused to shake my hand the first time we’d met. Who’d played and trained with me on the court from sunrise to sunset. Who’d always had my back.

The one who had stolen my heart completely.

‘Are you two just going to spend the rest of the evening out here?’ I looked over Nico’s shoulder, finding my mum hanging out of the open patio door. ‘You’re missing all the canapés.’

I smiled back, grateful that she had been there with me every step of the way.

‘In a minute.’

She tapped her wrist playfully in response, leaving the door open as she disappeared back inside.

When I turned back to Nico, his hand found the side of my face, gliding up the line of my jaw, and led me back to his lips. The pressure of him gliding against me, the stubble along his jaw dragging against mine.

‘You still don’t see it, do you?’ he mumbled, his lips barely leaving mine. ‘I couldn’t do this without you. I’ve been trying for years, and this trophy – our trophy – is the closest I’ve ever gotten, and I will forever be thankful for that.’ His head leaned to the side, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along my jaw, leading up to my ear, where he stopped. ‘But you, Scottie Sinclair, never needed me. You are strong and ruthless and so fucking unstoppable, and I can’t wait for a lifetime of watching and loudly cheering you on.’

The only logical reply was a kiss, one strong enough that I was sure he could feel the ache in my heart at his words, my gratitude for all of him, his attention and love. He might not have seen it, might not have realized how key he was to everything we had achieved together, but I knew, and I’d never forget it.

‘I love you,’ I said.

‘I love you, too.’ The words were just as easy for him as they were for me, I could tell. ‘But we should head inside before everyone starts to think we’ve abandoned them.’

My free hand found his, squeezing in answer for him to lead us inside, to our friends and family, to everyone that had supported us on our way here. Inés and Dylan were tucked amongst the crowd talking to Oliver, who had also made it along. I found Jon hiding in the back, my mum beside him, probably discussing the benefits of preventive botox.

I’d been alone for so long. No roots, no purpose, and so painfully wounded, the truth like a shard of glass gazing against my heart. It had taken all of them to get here and to heal. To trust again.

All along, I’d just needed Nico, his heart, and a baseball cap to steal.