Chapter 51
fifty-one
. . .
WHITNEY
I ease the front door shut behind me as quietly as possible, and slip off my shoes. The house is dark except for the light over the stove. I make it exactly three steps toward my room before Winnie’s voice floats out from the kitchen pantry.
“So,” she says. “How was your bodywork session?”
I turn slowly to find her leaning against the pantry doorway, arms crossed over an oversized Carolina Current sweatshirt.
“It was great. Just what I needed.”
She flips on the light and my eyes flinch at the brightness.
“I’d say so, but other than the blissed-out expression on your face, you kind of look like a wreck.”
She’s right. My bodywork cover story would maybe be more convincing if I weren’t walking in with sex-mussed hair, Connor’s bite mark high on my shoulder, and the kind of loose, boneless exhaustion that usually only follows a meet final or a truly irresponsible orgasm.
Or, apparently, three. Maybe four. Who’s counting?
“I’m twenty-two,” I say. “You can’t call me out like a teenager sneaking in after curfew.”
Winnie walks over to the counter, plucks a grape from the bowl there, then pops it into her mouth. “And yet you look like you’re caught.”
I lean against the hallway arch and cross my arms, which would feel more authoritative if my legs didn’t still have that pleasantly shaky post-Connor weakness.
“That obvious?”
Her gaze drops to my neck, then back up to my face.
“Last time I checked, cupping doesn’t leave teeth-like bite marks.”
I press my lips together, because that is kind of what happened.
A grin spreads across her face. “Oh my god. Did you and Connor have a private recovery session this afternoon?”
I laugh before I can stop myself, then immediately cover my face. This is the problem. This whole thing with Connor keeps turning me into someone with absolutely no ability to act normal. Which is saying something, because acting normal has never been a strong suit of mine.
Winnie’s expression softens when I finally look up. “Okay,” she says, gentler now. “What’s going on with you two?”
If she’d asked me that a month ago, I would’ve had a dozen dodges ready. Something flippant. Something chaotic. Something that sounded breezy enough to hide the fact that Connor was already under my skin in a way that felt dangerous.
But now? Now, I just exhale and tell the truth.
“I don’t know what we’re doing exactly,” I admit. “But I know it doesn’t feel casual.”
Winnie goes still in that way she does when she’s listening carefully.
I push off the arch and wander into the kitchen, popping a grape into my mouth so I can take a moment to process what I want to say.
“It was easier on tour,” I say around a grape. “There was always something happening. Kids. Travel. Events. People everywhere. And now we’re back here and it’s like…” I shrug. “Real life.”
Winnie nods slowly.
“And real life includes sneaking out of your house like I’m having a secret affair with a man who literally trains in the same facility as me,” I add.
“That part does feel logistically flawed.”
“Right?”
She smiles, then tilts her head. “But you’re happy.”
It’s not a question. And that catches me off guard a little, because I am.
More than happy, actually. I feel lit up in some new, unsettling way.
Softer in some places. Braver in others.
Like something in me that had been stretched tight for a long time has started loosening every time he looks at me like I’m more than Rory’s sister, more than Captain Chaos, more than some version of myself I have to sell.
“I am,” I say quietly. “Which is the scary part.”
Winnie’s brows lift. “Why’s it scary?”
I look down at the kitchen tile, at my bare feet, then rub my fingers over the bite mark on my neck Connor pressed into my skin like maybe he was trying to leave proof that today actually happened.
“Because I think this could become something big,” I say. “And I don’t mean public. I mean…” My throat tightens a little. “Important.”
Her face softens.
“And I don’t know what happens when it stops being ours,” I admit. “When Rory notices. When the team finds out. When it becomes a thing people have opinions about.”
Winnie is quiet for a second, then she closes the space between us and hugs me.
“The team is going to notice eventually,” she says.
“I know.”
“And Rory isn’t going to be happy about it.”
“I know.”
“And you’re going to keep seeing Connor anyway.”
I let out a breath that’s suspiciously close to a laugh. “Yeah.”
She pulls back, hands on my shoulders, and smiles. “Then maybe the only part you actually need to figure out is whether Connor is worth the chaos.”
My mouth tips up before I can stop it, because the answer is already forming easily on my tongue.
I think about the way he looked at me on tour when I was talking to kids.
The way he watches me like he’s learning something he wants to keep.
The way he makes space for me and then completely ruins me the second the door closes behind us.
The way he holds me after. And the way he always looks a little surprised that I’m still in his arms.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “He is.”
She smiles softly, then she
“Go get some rest. Real rest, not sex and spooning disguised as a nap.”
I start backing away, smiling now, lighter than I was when I walked in.
At the hallway entrance, I pause.
“Winnie?”
“Yeah?”
I twist the hem of my shirt around my finger. “Do you think Fort Lauderdale’s going to be weird?”
Her mouth tips up. “Weird how?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know. The tour was one thing, and being in Coral Cove is another. But Fort Lauderdale means team travel and race-week schedules and everyone right there all the time.”
Winnie’s expression softens.
“Ah,” she says. “So swimming isn’t the issue.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m ready to race.”
“So, it’s Connor.”
Heat climbs up my neck. “Maybe.”
She gives me a look.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Yes. It’s Connor. It’s whatever this is we’re doing and trying to act normal when he’s right in front of me, when all I can think about is how I’ve seen him naked.”
That gets a laugh out of her.
“You’ll figure it out,” she says. “Or you’ll fail spectacularly and I’ll enjoy watching it.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s not very supportive.”
“It’s honest.” She smiles. “You’re ready for Fort Lauderdale, Whit. The only thing throwing you off is that now there’s going to be a very distracting man ten feet away, and you’re expected to behave like that means nothing.”
I laugh, softer now, because, unfortunately, that’s exactly it.
I say goodnight, then head to my room to get ready for bed.
And when I crawl under the covers a few minutes later, still smelling a little like Connor and sex and whatever this is becoming between us, I know Winnie’s right.
Fort Lauderdale isn’t going to test my racing. It’s going to test my ability to look at Connor and act like I don’t know exactly what he sounds like when he says my name in the dark.