Chapter 26
twenty-six
When I finish press, Karolína and I head toward the players’ gym for my cooldown. Aleks is there, arms crossed.
After the elevator incident left me in a state of total embarrassment—both because I admitted far more to him than I meant to and because I’m sickened by how desperate my body was for him—I’ve been pretending nothing happened.
Clay-court season is drawing to a close, then it’s the shortest season of the year: grass.
I don’t have the bandwidth to unpack the complexities of our situation or to make decisions about whether this is sustainable in any way.
“I don’t want to hear a single ‘I told you so,’” I grumble angrily as the three of us step inside the gym.
“You won’t,” he reassures me softly. “We’re just going to do a walk, roll out, and stretch.”
Eyeing him, I wonder if he noticed my grimace after the serve I hit late in the first set, or if the pain in my back was obvious in my gait as I walked off the court. I tried so hard to hide it, sure I wouldn’t hear the end of it if he noticed.
But Aleks has always been perceptive when it comes to me.
I step on a free treadmill, setting it to the speed Aleks recommends. Despite the fact that I played an evening match, the gym has players and their teams milling about. Once I get into a rhythm, I let my head drop, the crushing weight of defeat bearing down on every one of my weary bones.
This flare-up, all these losses, are they divine proof that Aleks and Karolína were right?
That I should have sat this one out? I’m in more pain than I’d like to admit the week before my favorite tournament of the year.
Obviously, if I hadn’t played here and instead gone straight to Paris to train, this wouldn’t have happened.
And if this impacts my chances of winning Roland Garros, I’ll never forgive myself.
The first angry tear treks down my cheek before I can wipe it away.
“Hey, look at me,” Karolína says. When I don’t, she shuffles closer. “Nic, look at me.”
I raise my eyes to hers, finding a concerned Aleks behind her.
“This doesn’t mean anything, okay? You have five days to rest and prepare for Paris.
This tournament doesn’t define this season.
” She sets her arms on the treadmill, her chin in her hand.
“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come this year and in the time we’ve been working together.
You’re at your absolute best so far and climbing higher each day.
That title is as likely to be yours as any of the other women in the top, you hear me? ”
I stifle a sob. “I’m embarrassed.” And worried that I’ll underperform. That I won’t have figured out how to close when it matters most.
“Unfortunately, losing is one thing nobody in this sport can outrun. Every single player in the hall of fame lost more matches than tournaments they won. All of the greats faced defeat just like you have, and it doesn’t make them any less great.”
I nod, choked up, and we finish the last few minutes of my walk in silence before we head over to the area with mats. Aleks pulls out a foam roller for me to start on my legs while Karolína goes in search of Pen to figure out dinner for tonight and our travel plans to Paris.
Hiding my winces and grimaces appears effective, Aleks’ face stoic enough that maybe he hasn’t noticed. But when he has me lie on my back and lift my right leg so it’s at a ninety-degree angle, then slowly pushes it toward me, I groan.
“That bad, huh?”
“You knew?”
“Of course I knew, Nic. I saw it after that serve. You played tight the rest of the match.”
“Alright, alright. I get it.”
He watches me as I bend my leg and pull it toward my chest, hiding another wince. “I wasn’t shitting on you. I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll go see a trainer.”
Aleks holds his hand out to help me off the ground. My body aches in protest as we walk to the room connected to the gym, where on-site trainers work their magic on sore muscles and injuries.
“You don’t have to come,” I tell him before he pulls the door open. “Isn’t Anya playing?” She was supposed to go on right after me, but she may still be on.
Aleks turns so he’s facing me, eyes holding mine. “I don’t care. I’m not on her team, I’m on yours. And I want to make sure you’re okay.” Affection softens the lines beside his eyes, and though the curve of his brow tells me he’s worried, he smiles and opens the door for me.
The air in here is cooler, the smell of antiseptic strong. Bright, clinical lights reflect off white tile, and a row of padded treatment tables line one wall. A physiotherapist near us massages a player’s shoulder, and another smiles when she notices us.
“Nicola, hi! Did you need help?”
“Oh, uh, hi. I have an old psoas injury that’s flaring up.”
She leads us toward a table near the back. “Which side? And is it your back? Your hip? Or the whole area?”
“Lower back. My right side.”
She has me lie on the table and palpates, checking where the pain is before guiding me through hamstring, quad, and glute stretches.
After another massage loosens it up, she hands me a bag of ice and says, “Be careful with it. Make sure you’re taking a couple of extra rest days so it doesn’t get worse. ”
It’s a slap in the face I don’t need, but I thank her and sit with the ice between me and the table back.
Aleks steps away to use the restroom, and I pull my phone out, reading my messages.
Shots Fired
Austin
Less than a week until Paris. We better be planning to go to at least one party
Sahar
Are you here??
We’ve got five days until we play. What are you waiting for
Noah
You know I’m in this group, right?
Sahar
Oh, so now I can’t party? When did you get so lame? Everyone else’s coach lets them have fun
Delilah
Sad I’m still in Italy :(
Matteo gave me puppy dog eyes so I’m setting the record straight that I would not rather be at a party in Paris than in Italy
Harper
I’d switch with you in a heartbeat!
Austin
Rude! I’ll find a club we can hit tonight
Separate from the group, Delilah texted You doing alright? I type out a yes, I’m fine before I decide to be honest.
Not my best.
I switch over to social media, swiping away Delilah’s Call later tonight? when I notice the flood of notifications pouring in.
@Steve843927413: if she plays Anya or Emilia, she’s done for
@bradley.grindz.1029: @Steve843927413 for real, did you see what Anya said about her?
Frowning, I open Google and search Anya’s name.
Her Wiki page comes up, along with news from Rome, where she lost in the final.
A few of the articles are more recent though, one that’s not more than a few minutes old.
It’s titled “American Prodigy Calls Out Greek Rival” and I have a sinking, angry suspicion I’m the rival in question.
As far as I know, things have been quiet since the bullying comment.
The video Pen took seems to have done the trick in getting some of the heat off my back for my alleged bullying without me outright making a statement denying it—something Pen described as having the potential to make things worse.
I’d hoped we were past this, but I shouldn’t have underestimated Anya’s immaturity.
Making sure no one is near me, I click the video and turn my volume up a few notches.
“Anya, you often play top ten players, but one person who keeps popping up is Nicola Vassilakis. Knowing she’s been picked as a favorite to win Roland Garros, how do you feel about a potential meeting in the final?”
Anya shrugs, pushing her hair behind her ears.
She’s wearing the same Stratosphere shirt I often throw on for press since they send ten of them every few months, and for an irrational second, I wish I had another sponsor.
“I’m not worried about her. She can keep poaching my coaches all she wants, but the pressure is clearly getting to her.
” Her lips curl. “She’s distracted and sloppy, and she’s been struggling the last few tournaments.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a mental block that new coach can’t fix. ”
The white-tiled walls close in on me, and I have to dig my nails into my palms to remind myself I’m in public.
The quiet hum of the light above me grows louder, a buzzing in my ear.
Heat rolls over my shoulders, joined by nausea.
She doesn’t know anything about my mental struggles, and indicating she does is despicable.
Anya answers another question, but I click my phone off and set it as far from me on the table as I can.
In my periphery, Aleks walks toward me. Instantly, he recognizes something’s wrong. “Nic? Does it hurt more? What’s going on?”
Taking another few deep breaths, I type in my password and hand him the phone. When the first question has been answered, he turns to me, a wild look in his eyes. “I didn’t—I don’t have anything to do with—”
“I know,” I answer softly. “I didn’t think you did.”
Aleks nods once before playing it again. He notices me cringe and lowers the volume, stepping away.
“This is my fault,” he says after listening to it again, bridging the distance between us. “She’s clearly bitter about you and I doing…whatever it is we’re doing.” He sighs.
“No, Aleks, it’s not. You can’t control what she says.”
“It’s not just that.”
I meet his eyes, confused.
“My parents got worse after Natasha told them she wanted to quit. They threatened to cut her off, which means if she wants to go back to school, she’ll have to find a way to do it without their help.
She hasn’t officially retired, but when she pulled out of Roland Garros, my parents were livid.
It ended in a fight like our family has never had before.
Dima and I were on her side, but Anya took my parents’. ”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I think Anya took it personally that I left to train you and am backing Natasha but am not willing to do more for her. The whole thing ended with Anya calling Natasha a baby and my parents so angry with the three of us, they wouldn’t speak, especially to me.
Like I’ve betrayed them for a second time. ”
“Oh, Aleks. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you during all of that.
” Fuck, I’m so selfish. I spent a week and a half angry over what happened between us, barely talking to him, and all the while, he was waging his own war.
“My anger…Clearly you were right”—I gesture at the ice on my back—“and I shouldn’t have been so upset with you when you recommended I rest. More importantly, I should’ve been there for you while you were going through this. ”
“No.” A shake of his head as he steps toward me. “You were right, Nic. I overstepped. I was frustrated about the situation with Natasha, and instead of dealing with it separately, I let it impact our relationship. So I wanted to get it handled before it bled into us again.”
My chest constricts, so tight, I can hardly breathe. Any rage I felt about Anya’s comments dissipates, replaced with something way too warm that I’ve been trying to cut off at every turn. Once again, Aleks is proving to me that I’m his priority.
“And is it? Handled?”
“It’s getting there. I told Natasha I could cover the cost of any school that she can’t.
She’s opposed to it, but I think it gave her hope that there’s a way forward.
As for my parents, they were angry after I quit, and that blew over eventually.
I have no doubt this will too. Obviously, I have no clue what that looks like for Dima and Anya staying in it, but one battle at a time. ”
“One battle at a time,” I agree.
Aleks chuckles, eyes lighting. “You’re smiling.”
I realize he’s right, and there’s no point in denying why. “I’m proud of you,” I answer quietly. “You were so worried about telling them why you left, and now look. Natasha’s going to pursue her dreams.”
His expression turns pensive. “Yeah.”
“And you? Are you pursuing your dreams? Or is coaching your way of staying close to your siblings?” The ice has numbed my back, so I pull it out while he contemplates.
“The oldest brother in me is glad I’m finally doing something worthy.”
“Aleks…”
He chuckles. “You didn’t let me finish. I love what I do, Nic.
Getting to see how much our training has helped your game is so rewarding.
I’d love to coach you to as many victories as you want, and when you’re ready to retire, hopefully years down the line, maybe I’ll coach another tennis player.
Or work with athletes from other sports. ”
“As long as it’s what you want.”
“It is. Is it what you want? For us to continue working together?”
“I think there are things we need to figure out. My training has been far more efficient and I’m more confident on court.
I know I wouldn’t feel that way if it weren’t for you so…
we need to figure out the right balance.
I need to dial it back one percent”—at his raised eyebrow, I laugh softly—“okay, five, and you…”
Aleks sets his hand on the table beside me.
“Though a part of me feels to blame that you’re hurting right now, like I should’ve stopped you before you could hurt yourself, I’m realizing I need to let go of what I’ve learned for myself and let you make your own mistakes.
” I roll my eyes playfully at the last word, which makes his grin widen.
“So while I’d like to keep working with you and providing you with my thoughts on how best to move forward, I won’t force you to bend to my will.
I’m sorry I tried, and in the future, your word will be what we follow.
I just want you to take mine into consideration. ”
It’s all I need to hear to reach out and brush my fingers across his. “That’s a good start.”