It was late morning by the time Alex dragged himself out of bed and to the training facility. While they technically had the day off, his body demanded at least a couple of hours’ work, be it in the pool or gym. He’d put on jammers under his track pants, favoring the pool over weights, not wanting to smell the alcohol he’d sweat out. And either option was better than sitting in his room, worrying over whether he’d done the right or wrong thing with Dane last night.
Calling a truce was unquestionably the right thing. The team couldn’t handle another round of divisive drama, not when they needed to focus and come together. Whether that truce still held after he and Dane had come together in an entirely different sense was another question. But worry aside, it’d been a good thing for Alex, the relaxation and release sorely needed. He hadn’t slept a morning away in he couldn’t remember how long. But he’d have to wait to find out whether last night was a good or bad thing for Dane and the team, for better or worse.
Following the sounds of SportsCenter to the athletes’ kitchen, he trudged inside and was met with a snapshot of worse, not related to him or Dane. At the counter, side by side, stood Jacob, bent half over, head pillowed on his folded arms, and Bas, dreadlocks loose, dressed in a tee and ink-stained jeans. Bas bobbled a hunk of ginger, saved it from hitting the floor like he would a hacky-sack, then added it to greens, blueberries, and bananas already in the blender. He topped the fruits and vegetables with a cup of almond milk, a container of yogurt, and a generous squirt of honey. The ingredients varied by availability, but Alex would recognize the “Bas Special” anywhere—an unholy concoction guaranteed to detox the most hungover of athletes. Like, say, Jacob.
Or Dane, who staggered in with his USA Swimming tee on inside out and his untied sweatpants sagging so low Alex glimpsed an auburn trail leading down below. Dane cleared his throat, and Alex forced his gaze up. Face scrubbed clean of yesterday’s makeup and club-glitter, Dane’s skin was red too, sunburn glowing, and his washed hair was drying in a million different directions. Taken altogether, he looked like a tired, grumpy rooster.
Thank fuck the facility was closed to visitors today.
Bas glanced over his shoulder, caught sight of Dane, and mumbled an “Aw, hell,” no doubt seeing the same train wreck Alex did. He pulled more ingredients from the fridge and nudged Jacob, who slowly came to life, unfolding and retrieving another glass from the overhead cabinet. As Bas revved the blender, Dane scrunched his eyes closed, forehead wrinkling as if in pain. The whirring, grinding noise was enough to drown out the TV and revive Alex’s own headache. He could only imagine the trolls chipping away inside Dane’s head. Taking pity, Alex grasped him by the elbow and led him over to a table.
Splaying out in a chair, Dane laid a hand over his stomach and hung his head back, groaning.
“Feeling that good, huh?” Alex said.
Dane cracked open one eye and squinted up at him. “Ugh.”
Chuckling, Alex lowered himself into the adjacent chair. “About what I figured.” What he couldn’t figure, though, was how Dane felt about him this morning. If Dane even remembered last night, which, by the looks of him, was a fifty-fifty shot.
Before Alex could ask, or chicken out, behind them on the television, the coverage cut to yesterday’s press conference with Dane storming out, then to his father behind a pulpit this morning, preaching about forgiveness and self-acceptance through God.
“Fucking hypocrite,” Dane groused, and Alex whipped his gaze back around. Dane carried on like he hadn’t just cursed, or just read Alex’s mind. “He was rehearsing in my room yesterday—preaching to himself in the mirror like he always does—about pride and team unity. Changed his tune pretty fast.”
Perceptive despite his hangover, Jacob, bordering on sickly green from what must have been rapid movement, already had the remote in hand, changing the channel as he dropped into the seat across from them. A bandage peeked out from under the sleeve of his Shelby Cobra vanity tee.
Alex grabbed onto the change of topic like a life preserver. “Show us the ink, Pup.”
“Nuh-uh,” Jacob replied. “I spent an hour wrapping this.” He held out his arm and pushed up his sleeve, showing off the waterproof bandage and wrap above his biceps.
“I spent ten minutes wrapping it.” Bas joined them, passing out the glasses of green goop. “Unwind it,” he said to Jacob. “I’ve got more watertights in the room.”
Jacob, midswallow, inhaled sharply and choked. Rookie mistake. The key to a Bas Special was not to smell it, because again, unholy. Just guzzle. Alex gulped down two swallows while Jacob, still sputtering, unwound the wrap.
Uncovered, the tattoo on his outside left shoulder was oily from lotion and red, but that did nothing to detract from Bas’s distinctive artwork—an abstract piece with intricate lines and curves, in the unmistakable shape of a Longhorn, the tip of its horns and its muzzle accented in burnt orange. It was the perfect design for the rising UT junior and Texas native.
Sullen mood forgotten, Dane leaned forward for a closer look, his expression adorably awestruck. “This is amazing.”
Alex agreed, shooting Bas an approving nod.
“Think I could get one?” Dane asked, and Bas’s blond brows raced north. Alex laughed into his glass. “What, I’m serious!” Dane insisted.
Bas reined in his surprise, grinning. “I usually design ones for my teams.” He walked Dane and Jacob through the various team tats on his colorful upper body.
“I recognize that one.” Dane pointed to the memorial tat for the last Olympics.
“That’s right,” Bas said. “Mo’s got it, on the back of his right shoulder. Did that one and his newborn’s initials on the other. Guessing I’m going to have to add two more for him.”
“And me?” Dane asked, hopeful.
Bas nodded. “We win, I’ll ink you.”
Dane held up his glass, and Bas clicked his against it, sealing the deal. Alex’s heart soared much higher than it should. It was a small gesture, a promise he wasn’t sure Dane would even keep, since it’d mar that perfect skin, but the fact he showed interest, the fact Bas was including him, meant maybe Dane had turned a corner with the team. Maybe last night was for the better, in more than just the sticky-jeans kind of way.
Of course, having Dane as part of the team meant he could join the gang-up on Alex as well. “Why don’t you have any ink, from USC or the last Games?” he asked.
Alex floundered, surprised Dane had been paying that close attention to his body, and also not wanting to divulge his silly phobia.
Bas covered for him. “He’s holding out for relay gold.”
Smiling, Dane slouched back in his chair. “Get ready, then.”
Alex shoved his shoulder. “Drink your shake, Ellis.” He was holding out for relay gold, but he was also terrified of needles, which was why Carla was on chemo duty with their mom instead of him. He could only make it as far as the hallway outside the treatment room. Carla could sit inside and keep her company, offering more than Alex could.
Forcing back the influx of guilt and worry, Alex finished his shake while Bas, Jacob, and Dane talked animatedly over designs. As other teammates wandered in, there was a hilarious string of almost stumbles when the first few laid eyes on Dane at their table, but there were just as many tempered smiles and nods, Ryan’s the biggest of all.
Alex didn’t think it was only the fact that Dane was sitting at their table. He’d made a stand yesterday at the press conference, cutting at least a few of his parents’ strings, and their teammates respected him for it. Perhaps for the first time respecting more than Dane’s sheer talent. But how was Dane feeling about that press conference a day later? Did he regret making that stand? Did he regret what it had led to between them?
There was a hard slap on the door behind them, and Alex twisted in his chair. Coach’s eyes narrowed. “Boy, y’all are a motley crew today.”
Bas held up his shake without turning around. “On it, Coach.”
Hartl’s upper lip curled, and Alex laughed at his obvious disgust. “What part of day off didn’t you fools understand?”
“Had to swim first, Coach,” Ryan said, voicing the dilemma most of them faced. They were all addicted to the water.
“Then had to eat,” Kevin added from a table over, where he stood assembling sandwiches with Sean and Mike. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s hot as hell out there,” Coach replied.
“Welcome to Texas,” Jacob drawled to a room full of laughs.
“All right then, I’m gonna go watch film. Any takers?”
The scurry that followed was comical. Ryan didn’t bother making an excuse, just bolted with what was left of Bas’s shake mix, a “Bye, Coach” thrown over his shoulder.
Kevin picked his sandwich up in a napkin and darted out. “Braving the heat for the Alamo.”
Sean shoved the rest of the sandwich stuff back in the fridge, grabbed Mike by the sleeve, and followed Kevin. “We’re with him.” Not likely, but any excuse to avoid film.
“What about you fools?” Coach said, glaring at Alex’s table.
“We still have to hit the pool,” Alex said.
Coach pointed at Jacob. “He’s not getting in the water with a fresh tattoo.”
“Bas will rewrap it,” Jacob countered.
“Not risking infection. You’re with me, Pup.”
Jacob pushed out of his chair, the picture of abject misery. Bas rolled his eyes and rose beside him. “I got you into this mess. Can’t let you suffer alone.” Jacob brightened a little, though both men looked like they were facing execution as they followed Coach out.
When it was just him and Dane left, Alex asked, “You going to be okay in the pool?”
Dane tossed back the rest of his shake like a champ and slammed the glass down. “This shit’s disgusting but works like a charm.”
“Had something like it before?”
“Pretty sure Mo stole the recipe. Only thing I could keep down over spring break in Tahoe.”
“Partied a little too hard?”
Dane shook his head. “Altitude sickness.”
“So that wasn’t your first bout of it in Colorado Springs?”
“’Fraid not.”
Alex felt a twinge of guilt at how smug he’d been that first day of practice, seeing Dane struggle. Then another sort of guilt walloped him when his phone vibrated with an incoming call from Carla.
“Excuse me.” He pushed back from the table and moved to the other side of the room, phone to his ear. “What’s up, sis?”
“You got a couple minutes? It’s been a rough few days for Mom.”
He put a hand out, steadying himself on the counter. “Is she okay?”
A chair scraped back, and Dane was at his side the next instant, hand sliding over his hip. Alex nearly dropped the phone, only Carla’s voice outweighing the shockingly casual, affectionate touch. “She’s fine, just tired after the week of treatments. I think a quick chat with you would perk her right up. Get her eating again.”
“Mom’s not eating?”
“Her last treatment was Friday, hermano. You know it takes her a few days to recover. I’m hoping by tonight. Now, can I put her on?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Alex rushed to say.
Dane squeezed his hip, and Alex glanced up, meeting concerned, alert eyes. “Everything okay?” Dane mouthed.
Alex swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. Dane gave his hip another squeeze, then moved off, gathering their glasses and taking them to the sink, leaving Alex to his conversation but not leaving him alone. It was a surprising comfort, having someone near as he dealt with the most troubling part of his life, the fear that welled up anytime he had to face his mom’s mortality. She sounded winded, tired at first, but midway through the conversation, her knitting needles started to click and her voice perked up, both good signs. After he finished telling her about the week ahead, and they said their goodbyes, Carla came back on the line.
“You did the right thing,” Alex told her. “You call me anytime.”
“How’re things there?” she asked.
His gaze drifted again to Dane. “Getting better.”
“You get Big Red in line?”
The start of an impossible smile. “Working on it.”
“I’m sure he’ll want to hit that before the Olympics are over.”
For Dane’s sake, he resisted replying, Been there, hit that, and moved on to setting up a time to talk in a couple days, finishing the call with another round of goodbyes and love yous.
He pocketed the phone, eyeing Dane, who placed the last glass in the drip rack and pulled out the sink stopper, letting the water drain. “Your mom’s sick?”
Alex grabbed a dish towel and started drying. “Breast cancer, second time in three years.”
“That’s why you haven’t been at the meets lately?”
He nodded. “I did enough to remain active and competitive but otherwise stayed close to home. Spent more hours training at USOTC. I didn’t want to go far, in case . . .”
“Crap, man, I’m sorry to hear that. I remember seeing her on TV during the last Games. She seemed cool. Real excited for you.”
“Still is, just running low on energy these days, after everything.”
Dane dried off his hands and leaned a hip against the counter, angling toward him. “That’s why your sister called?”
“Mom just finished a chemo week, which tires her out. Can’t eat, can’t do much of anything but knit. I wish I could be there more.”
“I’m sure they understand. They must be proud of you.”
“They are. It’s just hard being a man down at the farm. I feel guilty, being here, doing what I love. I’ve had more of a life these past couple weeks, hell, the past couple days . . .”
Dane cast his gaze aside, blush hitting his cheeks, as he ran a hand through his hair, making an even worse mess of the tangles. “Listen, about last night . . .”
Alex bobbled the glass in his hands, almost dropping it. He didn’t want to hear this—the regret, the retraction, the rejection. He’d rather suffer in awkward silence and tuck last night away with the rest of his good Dane memories. “You don’t—”
Dane’s hand landed on his hip again, and Alex’s eyes darted up, meeting Dane’s sincere blue ones. “I’m sorry I passed out on you. It’d been a long day ending with a lot of shots.” He smiled shyly, attractive as hell. “I don’t even remember them all.”
“What do you remember?” Alex ventured, setting the glass and dishrag aside.
“Us getting hit on,” Dane said. “A lot. You wandering off to the dance floor. Please tell me I didn’t pass out facedown on the bar.”
Alex stared into those eyes, searching for any sign Dane was playing him. And saw none. Dane was genuinely worried, maybe a little embarrassed, and more than a tad apprehensive. And Alex didn’t see regret either. In fact, Dane’s thumb caressing his hip bone gave the exact opposite impression. His mind might not recall all of last’s night details, but some part of his body did.
A different sort of sadness settled in Alex’s gut. As much as he wanted to close the space between them and remind Dane of all they’d shared on the dance floor, a teammate could walk in at any second. And the last thing he wanted to do was spook Dane after things had gone so well with the team this morning. He had to let him off the hook, for now.
“Nah,” Alex said, and Dane blew out a giant breath. Alex couldn’t resist needling him a little, though. “You passed out on the steps outside, clutching the stair rail.”
Dane covered his face with a hand, groaning behind it.
“Our bouncer friend was rather amused,” Alex added.
Dane groaned louder, mortified eyes peeking through his fingers.
Alex laughed, jostling Dane’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get in the water. It’ll drown out how stupid you feel right now.” He stepped past Dane, only for the other man’s hand to clasp his arm and turn him back around.
“Thank you,” Dane said, eyes and voice soft. “I would never have done that last night on my own, and I needed it. More than I knew.”
It was getting harder and harder not to close that distance between them, not to jog Dane’s memory with words or actions. Alex bit his tongue and nodded.
“And thanks for being the bigger man and calling a truce.” Dane dropped his hold and swept his arm around the area. “Here, this morning with the team, that was a nice change.”
Alex could tell Dane his actions at the press conference had done more for him than Alex, but that’s not what Dane needed to hear right now. Dane needed that pride and team unity his father had planned to preach about. Dane needed to do what Dane did best. Swim. As captain, Alex could give him that, with the whole team standing to benefit now. “Well then, get in the pool,” he said, a playful challenge belying his smile. “And earn it.”