Chapter 17
DELTA
“Bay said that too, but I swear it’s so off when I slow it down, like I’m losing my momentum, you know?”
“Sure.” I snuggle deeper into the couch, raking my hand through Tibia’s soft fur.
It’s the first day of my period, and after having a good cry that I’m not pregnant with my boyfriend of two weeks’ baby, I curled up in front of a sappy movie with every bag of junk food in the house.
My brother called not long after, ranting about his new coach and how Bay slept with a girl Lake had talked to at a party for ten whole minutes—evidently a major brotherly dibs violation.
“You’re overthinking it. Focus on what you were doing. You have enough points to qualify without this, and it’s a major risk. If you’re still not landing it now….” I trail off, lifting my shoulder with a sympathetic wince.
If it weren’t for my hip, I’d be on Blue Pike now, sweating it out alongside him, and not a single part of me misses it.
Lake groans, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I should go. Thank Brooks for me, will you? I started taking that lactic acid thing he sent me, and it’s a game changer.”
We hang up, and I shove a handful of chocolate-covered pretzels in my mouth. I know my brain is marinating in a hormonal cocktail at the moment, but it’s ridiculous to be upset I’m not pregnant, right?
For one thing, the appointment for my hip isn’t for another week, a few days after the first-ever Christmas I’ll be spending with Brooks’ family.
I’ve met everyone now. His parents came to dinner a few nights ago and were predictably lovely, Phoebe and I now meet every Friday for coffee, and I’ve started watching her boys after school.
They all like me , and it’s so nice to be part of a traditional family rather than the competitive pressure cooker I was raised in.
I’m still a relatively unknown entity, though, and I don’t want to rock the boat so soon.
Surely, they wouldn’t be happy if they believed I was trying to trap Brooks with an unplanned pregnancy or something.
I giggle to myself at the idea. If anything, Brooks is trying to trap himself with a—mostly—unplanned pregnancy. The man is an award winning physician. He knows where babies come from. If he didn’t want one, he would rethink our birth control methods.
Admittedly, our current methods are pretty hot. Not that I’ll be enjoying any of them when I’m this bloated and gross .
My head drops back and I groan. Seriously, fuck periods.
I’m in the beginning stages of researching how to make chocolate-covered potato chips when the doorbell rings and all three dogs start barking. Shushing them, I get up and drag my feet to the door, flanked by my small army of four-legged clouds.
I’m expecting a package, or maybe Phoebe dropping by unannounced to return the stand mixer I lent her.
What I don’t expect is a stranger standing on the mat, smiling tentatively.
She’s not that much older than me and dressed in a pantsuit and the kind of fluffy, fashionable coat they sell to tourists at the airport.
“Uh, hi?” I tuck my hair behind my ear self-consciously, wishing I’d checked through the window before opening it.
“Delta.” She holds out a hand, “I’m Annie Ferguson, Newsday Magazine—” I immediately go to shut the door, but she shoves her boot in the way, grimacing apologetically. “Listen, I’m sorry to show up at your home unannounced like this.”
“So, why are you?” I bite back furiously. “I’m not interested in giving an interview or whatever.”
Annie shakes her head hastily, “No! I was hoping to talk to you off the record. Zero pressure, just a chat.”
I cross my arms defensively, glaring at her. “About?” If she’s looking for the inside scoop on my retirement, she’s going to be disappointed.
“Your father.”
I pause, curious despite myself. “I’ll listen, but that’s it.” I step back, and she follows me inside, closing the door behind her.
“Cute dogs.” She scratches Femur tentatively.
“And your home is gorgeous. I love the view.” If she’s found me here, she must know whose house it is, and I’m not going to offer up anything about Brooks.
We’ve been lucky so far. Nobody seems to care about a former professional athlete dating her former doctor, but all it takes is one gossip journalist putting an ugly spin on it to destroy his professional reputation.
Wordlessly, I gesture to the stools on one side of the kitchen island and lean against the counter on the other, watching her every move as she sits down and puts her bag beside her.
Annie, thankfully, cuts right to the chase.
“I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, so I guess we’ll dive in.
” She pulls a folder out of her bag and sets it in front of her.
“I’ve been investigating River Jacobs for about six months now, since well before your accident, though admittedly, I wasn’t getting very far until then. ”
My heart is suddenly beating wildly, and keeping my expression impassive is a struggle. Is this related to what Brooks and I were talking about on my birthday? I swallow, “And what has your investigation turned up?”
Annie flips open the folder and slides it over the counter toward me.
“It’s bigger than just River. Essentially, a lot of unsafe coaching practices and a governing body, the USSA, that turns the other way.
I’ve been working with a source close to River for some time now.
They tipped me off that prior to your accident, your physician put you on an involuntary medical suspension, but your father made some calls and had your case transferred to another doctor. One who is notoriously lax.”
She’s looking at me appraisingly, and I can tell she’s trying to figure out if any of this is hitting a nerve.
I give her nothing, but my heart has dropped through the floor, because it’s all true.
What am I supposed to do with that? It sounds horrible to hear the situation spelled out in black and white, like she just did.
I’d be furious if I read about this happening to someone else, so why do I feel so defensive?
Annie continues, “We’ve submitted a records request, which could take months and will probably be blocked in court under the grounds of doctor-patient confidentiality.
There are a lot of people over there who would walk away from this looking very bad if any of this is true.
” She leans forward, and I can see now that she’s nervous, too.
This is important to her. “Yours is not the only incident by a long shot, but it’s the most newsworthy.
You’re a gold medalist and River’s daughter.
I’m not expecting you to talk on the record.
I know that’s a really big ask and would be complicated for you on a personal level. I just need proof.”
Proof like the email the USSA sent me confirming my medical suspension was pending and that my case was being transferred away from Brooks. I could open my phone and show it to her right now.
I clutch the counter like a lifeline. “I’d need time to think about it,” I say at last, swallowing the tightness in my throat. “And I’m not saying any of what you just said is what happened, or that I have any of this hypothetical proof, but if I did , I wouldn’t just give it to you.”
Annie gets to her feet at once, nodding.
“ Of course. ” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a card, setting it between us.
“Thank you for hearing me out, Delta. I know it’s a lot to even consider this, but the system in place now is designed to create champions, not protect athletes.
It’s not right, and I’d like to see it end. ”
When Brooks gets home, he finds me in the garage, surrounded by boxes.
“Ah, tall man. Just in time.” I grin, kissing him briefly before pointing to the last box, which is on the topmost shelf and just out of my reach.
He obliges me, setting it down on the floor and standing back as I rip it open. “What are we looking for, short woman?”
I’ve already found it though, and yank the velvet box out with a triumphant whoop of victory. “God, Lake packed this stuff, right? He has some serious issues. Who would pack someone’s social security card in a bag of half-used hotel shampoo bottles?”
“That’s fairly deranged,” Brooks agrees stoically, following me back into the house. He left this morning in a shirt and tie, but now he’s wearing scrubs, and I hum in appreciation of the view. Setting the box on the counter, I turn so I can give him a proper welcome home.
“I missed you,” I murmur in between kisses, pressing the length of my body against his and twining my arms around his neck. “Was your day okay?”
He grunts in response, too busy backing me toward the couch.
One of the many things I’ve learned about Brooks over the last few weeks is that he always has a lot of tension to burn off after a day in surgery.
I’m usually more than happy to let him work out his control issues on me, but I stop his hands as they reach the waistband of my yoga pants, pulling back to wince apologetically at him.
“I, uh, got my period. This morning.”
Brooks is silent for a moment, his expression far too grave for a man who doesn’t want to get me pregnant. “Are you okay?” he finally asks, brow furrowed in concern.
I give him a watery, reassuring smile, abruptly overwhelmed by how much I love this man. “I’m fine. It’s not good timing. We haven’t been together that long, and there’s my hip… I’m feeling really silly for being disappointed. If that’s something we want, there’s plenty of time, right?”
He nods immediately. “Of course. It’s a discussion we can have after your appointment next week.” But there’s a glint in his eye that tells me the “discussion” won’t be a long one. We don’t need it to be.
“Come here.” I wrap my hand around his wrist to tug him toward the couch.