Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
CHANCE
Our first home meet and I’d rather be anywhere but here. I love swimming, but I’m over competing. It’s in my blood to be competitive—thanks Dad—but as I pull further from his influence, the more I don’t want to even finish this season out.
The only reason I’ll stay is for Jett. He’s not gotten as much shit from Priest, Ari, and the others since I left the frat, but that’ll only last as long as I’m a part of the team.
Jett can protect himself, but I feel responsible for him. I’ve never had siblings, but I consider him like a little brother. We haven’t talked as much this year as before, what with me keeping a big ass secret from him, but we’re still close.
Looking up at the stands, my eyes flick back and forth, trying to find my men. Practically the entire school is here, cheering us on for our home meet. It’s usually this packed, and it never bothers me. It does now because I can’t find my men. There are too many people here. Where are—
There.
Warren is sitting in the third row of the home stands, his bright red hair pulled up high on his head as he watches the butterfly race.
He sits with two other STEM professors, Professor Cooke and Professor Fosser.
Professor Fosser is sitting next to a pretty woman that looks, like, half his age, but that’s not my business.
Thorne is a few rows up sitting next to Knox. Even though they’re not blood related and Thorne is white and Knox is Black, they resemble each other a lot. I heard tell that the more time you spend around someone, the more you look alike and I see it with the two of them.
Both Warren and Thorne look so good. Butterflies dance in my belly because I know they’re here for just me.
Jett steps up beside me, looking up at the stands. “You good?”
Glancing over at him with a raised eyebrow, I answer, “Yeah. Why do you ask?”
He shrugs. “You’ve been rubbing at your shoulder a lot today. You had that 50-meter backstroke earlier, so I figured it was giving you shit.”
He’s not wrong. For the past week or so, the pain has been ramping up. I’ve gone through an entire bottle of fucking Motrin trying to keep the discomfort at bay. Another reason why I want to be done competing. I’m putting too much stress on my muscles when I just want to swim for fun.
Smiling—hoping it doesn’t look as shaky as it feels—I sock him softly in the arm. “I’m good. Just a little sore. We all get sore, right?”
He looks at me as if searching my eyes for the truth. It’s the only truth I have. “Yeah, right.” He nods toward the bleachers. “Your man is here.”
Men, I want to say, but that would only bring trouble down for Warren. I don’t think Jett will tell anyone, but if someone overhears, I’ll get no end of shit and Warren could possibly be fired.
I’ll tell Jett soon. The next time we’re alone.
I peek over at him, and he’s still looking at the stands. His eyes flick around, but they keep falling on Thorne.
Or…not Thorne. Knox.
Does Jett have a crush?
“Looking for someone?” I ask, shooting him an innocent smile.
“Huh? No. Not me. No one. Don’t know anyone.” He stammers over his words, his country accent slipping out more and more as he gets flustered.
“You sure? Not looking at…Thorne?”
His eyes bulge. “What? No. That’s your man. No.”
“Oh, so it’s Knox then?” I raise my hand to wave. Thorne smirks and shoots me a two-finger salute. Knox waves.
Jett gulps hard, then turns on his heels and walks closer to the rest of the team.
I grin after him, planning to tease him about it later.
It’s not like there’s something wrong with being attracted to Knox. He’s a good-looking guy. He’s not a certain growly, imposing, demanding goth man, but he’s still handsome as sin.
Coach calls me over a few minutes later, telling me to get ready for my freestyle event.
I raise my arms over my head to stretch and my shoulder twinges so hard that it takes my breath away. I’ve been sore—Warren giving me massages almost every night to ease the pain—but that was something different. It was sharp, excruciating.
My gaze catches on Jett’s, his worried expression making my heart rate speed up. But I wave him away. After this meet, I’ll tell Coach that I need to slow down. I should have done it weeks ago, but I started to live with the dull ache, pushing it to the back of my mind.
No more though. If that pain was anything to go by, I need to slow the fuck down.
“Swimmers take your mark,” the announcer says and I climb on the boards.
The noise of the crowd fades as I hold on to the edge of the starting block. I blow out a few short breaths, ignoring the sharp pain in my shoulder. There’s no time to think about it right now. It’ll only fuck up my race.
A few seconds later, the shot goes off and I dive in, dolphin kicking to propel myself further and faster to the end of the pool.
When I surface, I pull in a quick breath as I slice through the water.
I gasp as my shoulder stings, but I have to ignore it. Just one more race. Then I can rest.
I time my flip perfectly, ducking under the water, tucking my head, and spinning around, pushing off the wall.
When I surface to draw in a breath, I see a swimmer from Haverton University, our main rival, pulling up closer to me.
Putting on a burst of speed, I slice my arms faster in the water, pulling away.
Just as I see the end of the pool, I glide my right arm hard into the water and feel something rip.
I cry out, floundering, losing my momentum. Water goes down my throat, into my lungs as I struggle to stay afloat. My right arm won’t move. I’m fucking useless as I try to stay above water while trying not to cry in pain from whatever tore in my shoulder.
Strong arms pull me toward the edge of the pool. Through my tears, I see Jett, worry prominent on his face as he tells me to hang on, that he has me. I keep looking at him, locking my gaze on his as he pushes us through the water to the edge.
Priest and Ari pull me out, checking me over as I fight a grimace and push tears away.
Coach pushes me onto my back and a medic hurries over. Scuffling sounds to my right, followed by a loud splash.
Then I’m looking into Thorne’s brown eyes and it’s almost like the pain recedes. “What happened, Golden?” he asks, ignoring Coach and the medic as they try to get him to move.
Through clenched teeth, I say, “Shoulder. Pain. Hurts.”
He curses, peering down at me almost angrily. “You said it wasn’t bad.”
“Lied,” I grunt out before the pain becomes almost unbearable and I have to shut my eyes to keep from screaming.
The pain has me blanking in and out of consciousness. One moment, I’m lying flat on my back, listening to Thorne, Priest, and Jett argue, then next, I’m on a gurney, riding in an ambulance.
Thankfully, someone put a towel around my waist. The small swimming briefs do nothing to protect my modesty.
Another moment of pain descends on me and I blank out, coming back to myself as doctors place all kinds of wires and cuffs and shit on me. Someone laid a blanket across my lap.
When I can finally hold on to consciousness, Jett, Thorne, and Knox come into focus.
“Hey,” I whisper, and Thorne’s head snaps up.
He rushes over to me, grabbing my hand in a tight grip. “You lied to me,” he says, though his tone drips with concern.
“Sorry. I just wanted to finish this season.”
“It’s done now,” he says.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I say petulantly, then giggle. I’m not sure why it’s so funny, but I can’t stop laughing. I’m also not feeling any pain, so that’s perfect. “You’re not my dad. Though my dad is a dick, so maybe you should be my Daddy.”
“Jesus,” Knox says with a chuckle.
I peek over at him. “Does that mean you’ll be my uncle or my brother-in-law? When me and Thorne get married.”
Knox just barks a laugh, holding his hands up when Thorne glares at him.
“Oh, Thorne. T, Daddy.”
“Do not call me Daddy,” he threatens in a low tone.
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, smiling up at him when he glares. “Me, you, and Warren can be married. Would we be brother husbands? Is that what they’re called?”
“Who’s Warren?” Jett asks, sliding closer to my bed.
“My brother-husband,” I say like it’s obvious. “Keep up.”
Thorne sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Those are some good drugs.”
“Is that why my shoulder doesn’t hurt?” He nods, his lips turned down severely. I reach up and try to push the edges up with clumsy fingers. “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry I hurt myself.”
He exhales, his eyes going soft. “I’m not mad at you, Golden. I just wish you had told us—me that you were hurting this bad.”
“Warren gave me all those good massages, so I thought I’d be fine.”
Jett says, “Seriously, who is Warren?”
“Professor Bridge,” I singsong, smiling as I think about Warren. “Where is he? Why isn’t he at my bedside?” I frown, my heart thumping though the drugs in my system try to chase the feeling away. “Is he mad at me, too?”
Thorne glares at Jett, who swallows roughly. “Not a fucking word, you hear me?”
“Yeah, no. I won’t say anything. Ain’t my business.” Jett looks at me earnestly and says, “Not a peep.”
“Come on, lifeguard,” Knox says and grabs Jett’s arm in a gentle grip. “Let the lovebirds talk.”
“Jett likes you, Knox,” I say, winking at him. “I see why. You’re handsome.” Thorne growls and I peer up at him, blinking my eyes innocently. “What? You’re cuter. Duh, T. Daddy T. I like it.”
Knox’s laugh is deep and low as he leaves the room, Jett trailing behind him.
When they’re gone, Thorne sits on my bed, pushing my hair from my face. “You really scared me. I thought you were drowning.”
I try to piece together what happened, but my brain is fuzzy, thoughts fleeting, even as I try to pin them down. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I really thought I’d be okay after this meet.”
“Well, you tore your rotator cuff. Your season is over, Golden.”
I should be upset, but I just feel like I’m flying. Maybe when the drugs wear off, it’ll all hit me, but for right now, I feel warm and loved. “Where’s Warren?”