Despite what they’d told the reporters, they didn’t go to Coach first.
Alex blasted open the locker room door with a two-handed shove and didn’t slow when it crashed against the tile wall. It would have flown back in his face but for Dane, totally in sync with him now, reaching out a long arm from behind him and stopping the recoil, clearing his path. Alex ignored the wide-eyed stares of his gasping teammates, his focus solely on the one standing two rows back.
The one whose expression wasn’t surprised so much as Oh shit.
With good reason.
Alex stalked toward the traitor, Dane’s steps thundering in his wake.
“What’s going on?” and “What the fuck?” echoed around them. Hands reached for Alex, but he dodged and shook them off, not to be deterred.
He dropped his bags in the aisle, rounded the endcap of the second row, and stood on one side of the bench, Dane on the other, blocking any exit. “Nowhere to run,” he said.
Ryan backed into the row, retreating to the corner to make his stand. He straightened his spine, set his feet apart, and crossed his arms. Always trying to play the big man and never quite pulling it off. Even now, the fear in his eyes and the rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. “Why would I run?”
“I think the better question is, why’d you do it?”
“What’d he do?” Bas asked from over Alex’s shoulder.
“Changed the results on my drug test.”
“Tell us, Ryan,” Dane said, defensive posture matched, but every bit of his confidence real, even more so now. “How much did my parents pay you?”
“I didn’t change your results,” Ryan bluffed. “You tested positive.”
“No, I didn’t.” Alex took two steps down the row, and Ryan backed into the lockers, rattling the metal doors. “We have before and after images of the test results, including one with your User ID on it, proving you were the one who changed them.”
His guilty eyes darted to Dane.
“That’s right,” Dane said. “I’m a better hacker than you. Or did the CompSci professors at Florida forget to teach you how to delete your ghosts?”
Jacob entered the fray, shouldering past Dane, his rangy frame so puffed up with anger Alex would have sworn he’d put on twenty pounds and grown a half foot overnight. “You changed Cap’s test results?”
“How much did my parents pay you?” Dane repeated.
“Fucking hell, Ryan, really?” Kevin weighed in from somewhere behind them.
“You were in the room with us the night we found out,” Bas said, low and angry. “Why the fuck would you do that? Frame Alex, then let us think you were on our side?”
“Our side,” Ryan scoffed, his narrowed-eye gaze cutting to Bas. “You’re only ever on his. Always the loyal second.”
Bas crowded into the row behind Alex. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Alex appreciated his teammates’ support, but he wanted answers, now. From this teammate who’d swum in the same circles as him for years, who’d stood on the medal podium with him four years ago. “Why’d you do it, Ryan?” Alex pressed. It had to be more than just Dane’s parents and the money that had turned his supposed friend against him. “Because I’m Hispanic? Because I’m gay?” He hated to think Ryan harbored that sort of hate toward him, toward Bas, toward Dane, but he couldn’t think of any other reasons.
Ryan threw his arms wide, hands slapping the lockers on either side of the row. “I don’t care who you fuck or what color your skin is.”
Dane sprung the trap. “So you admit you did it then?”
The traitor’s mouth clamped shut.
“What’s going on here?” Coach’s booming voice bounced off the tile walls. “Ellis, Cantu, you were supposed to come straight to my office.”
Alex glanced over his shoulder to reply, and Ryan made a break for it, jumping up on the bench to run out between them.
He didn’t make it halfway before Jacob took him down in a stunt-worthy martial arts move.
Kevin whistled behind them, and Bas choked out an awed “Damn, Pup.”
Jacob smiled up at him. “You know you’re impressed.”
“I repeat,” Coach said, interrupting the momentary burst of action. “What the hell is going on here?”
Alex helped Jacob haul Ryan up, each of them holding one of his arms. “Tell Coach why you changed my drug test results,” Alex demanded.
Coach’s brow furrowed. “You changed Alex’s results?”
“My parents paid him off,” Dane added.
“It had nothing to do with your parents,” Ryan said, wrestling out of the hold. “It was about you—” he pointed an accusing finger at Bas, then swung it to Alex “—and you—” then to Dane “—and you and fucking Mo. You guys keep getting older but keep coming back.”
“But you’re a vet too,” Bas said.
“But I’m not a starter, and I’ll never get a chance at being a starter, at getting gold for myself, if you’re taking spots on the teams and crowding the goddamn podium.”
“But you’re in our one slot for IM,” Coach said. “You’re also swimming backstroke, and you’re the alternate for medley relay.”
Ryan held up that same single finger he’d pointed earlier. “One possible gold, one. Then I’m losing the backstroke gold to you,” he said, glaring at Alex. “And I’m not even on the relay team, even though I beat both you and Dane in the pool last week. This Olympics was supposed to be my turn to start. My last turn. I wanted my shot, and I took it.”
“By making sure I was off the team?” Alex asked, astonished by the team jester’s vitriol.
“Yes.”
One word, spat with such disdain that it landed like a punch to Alex’s gut. Ryan had always been part of the camaraderie he valued most. Always there with a joke, a stopwatch, or a high five, cheering on him and others. How had Alex never seen this resentment and jealousy buried behind his joking facade?
“You called the press on us this morning, didn’t you?” Dane said. “You tried to implicate us both.”
“He was in Coach’s office when Alex called,” Bas said, and Ryan hung his head, the final nail in the coffin.
“All right, that’s enough,” Coach said. “Bas, take Nichols to my office. The rest of you—” his black gaze swung around the locker room full of stunned faces “—get in the pool. We’re already ten minutes late starting our last open practice here.” When no one moved, he barked, “Move it,” and the rest of the team snapped out of their shocked daze, springing back into action. “You two,” he said to Alex and Dane, “wait.”
Alex collapsed on the bench, adrenaline dwindling and disappointment weighing him down. How had he not seen the festering resentment Ryan carried? Did other teammates feel the same?
Dane moved behind him, and Alex leaned back against his legs, taking what little comfort he could in the knowledge at least something had gone right during the last forty-eight hours.
“You’ve got proof?” Coach asked once the door swung closed on the last outgoing swimmer. “Something solid I can take to the Committee?”
“It’s solid, Coach,” Dane said. “I can show you now or after practice.”
“Plus you’ve got a room full of witnesses to that scene just now,” Alex added. “And this.” He dug his phone out of his pocket, recorder on, taping Ryan’s outburst and confession. Alex tagged it off. “I wasn’t doping, Coach.”
“I’m sorry I doubted you. I should have known better.” He glanced up at Dane. “Should have had the same confidence in you that your boyfriend does.”
“You don’t seem surprised?”
“Caught a little of your impromptu press conference. Bas filled me in on the rest.” He ran a hand over his black hair. “Way you two circled each other, it was going to come to one end or the other, love or hate. I thought maybe there was something there, but I didn’t want to put either of you in an awkward situation. Glad it worked out this way.”
“Thank you,” Alex said, “for that.” He wasn’t ready to forgive the other slight yet.
“Can you get him cleared to swim in time?” Dane asked.
“Come with me, and show me what you’ve got.”
Alex stood to follow, and Coach held up a hand. “No, Cantu, just Ellis.”
He nodded in understanding. He was the guilty party, and he wasn’t officially cleared, yet. It was technically the right way to handle the matter. Still sucked. Moving back into the aisle, he picked up his duffle from where he’d dropped it and slug it over his shoulder. “I’ll just wait in my room,” he said, then floundered. “Or I guess mine’s gone now.”
“Go to mine,” Dane said, digging out his key.
“That’s not what I meant,” Coach said. “I’ve got to deal with whatever evidence Dane’s got and then with Ryan. You get out there on deck and captain.”
Alex almost dropped his bag. “You’re sure it’s okay?”
“Fine by me. I’m sure it will be fine by your team too.”
“But what Ryan said, about us repeat performers, maybe other feel that way too.”
“Maybe they do, but this is the nature of the sport now. Some, like Ryan, may resent it, but I think, I hope, the bigger portion are happy to learn from your experience.” He nodded toward the door, toward the pool beyond where Alex’s teammates were waiting. “Go out there, and show them it’s worth having repeat performers on the team. Go be a captain, Cantu.”
It’d take a while for the hurt caused by Coach’s initial doubt to fully heal, but his trust and confidence now went a long way to speeding up the process.
“Yes, Coach,” he said, ready to get back in the water, to get back to his dream.
Dane caught up to Coach in the hallway outside his office. The older man looked surlier and more wrinkled than his usual, well-pressed self. As hard as the past few days had been on Dane and Alex, it couldn’t have been easy on Coach either. Having to sideline his protégé and captain, Dane going AWOL, the Committee and PR likely breathing down his neck.
“I’m guessing I’ve got you to thank for my missing ID badge,” Coach said.
Hedging his bets on Coach’s sour mood, Dane skirted the truth. “I didn’t take it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But you have it.” When Dane didn’t reply, Coach sighed, tired and frustrated, and held out a hand. “Just give me the damn card, Ellis.”
Dane unzipped his computer bag, dug around for the card, and handed it over. “We didn’t have to use it.”
“Good. Wasn’t sure how I was going to explain being in two places at once.”
“Speaking of, can I show you what we found?” Dane patted his bag, impatient. “I want to know Alex is clear.”
Rather than entering his office, Coach led him into the conference room across the hall. “I want to see what you have before I talk to Nichols.”
Nodding, Dane crossed the hall into the room, withdrew his computer, and set it up on the table. Once booted up, he walked Coach through the before and after test results, pointing out the markers that proved this was Alex’s sample, the changed NEG to POS, and Ryan’s User ID on the ghost of the changed document.
“Well, that’s pretty damn convincing,” Coach said, when Dane finished. “And with the recording Alex made, Ryan all but confessed. I’ll want to draw blood from both of you after practice today, to further make the case to the Committee, which I’ll do this evening. I’ve already set up a conference call.”
Dane barely kept still on the edge of his chair, bouncing as badly as Alex had earlier in the day. “How fast will we know something? We leave for international training tomorrow.”
“Alex is here, ready to leave with us, thanks to you. You were right to go after him, and you were right about this.” Coach nodded at the computer, then slumped back in his chair. “Not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for doubting him and my gut. I knew he didn’t dope, but with the test results and how everything had turned around . . .”
“Because he’d gotten through to me,” Dane said, pointing at himself. “I was the one holding the team back.”
“And now you’ve brought him and the team back together. Can’t thank you enough, Ellis.” Sighing, Coach ran both hands over his black hair, slicking it back. Surly had given way to upset, with himself.
“You let Alex go back and swim,” Dane said. “Let him go back and captain. That’s a good start. And hey, if he could forgive me after a decade of turning my back on him, he’ll forgive you for doing so this once.”
Before Coach could respond, a commotion broke out in the hallway, and the loudest voice of all . . . Patrick Ellis. Demanding to know where his son was. Dane froze. Standing up to them on the phone was one thing, in the airport where they weren’t another, but this—face-to-face—was a whole different battle. He’d known it was coming. He’d just hoped for a moment to breathe first, maybe spend some time in the pool and get a kiss from Alex before he went off to war.
Coach was on his feet already. “I can tell them you’re not here.”
Dane rose, forcing his legs steady. “No, this is going to happen one way or the other. I’d rather we get it done before we leave.”
Coach wrapped his hand around the door handle and paused. “You sure?”
About being with Alex, he’d never been more sure about anything. He had to do this, for Alex, and for himself. “Yes,” he answered, and Coach opened the door.
His mother and father charged in like they owned the place. Camera-ready, perfectly pressed, and noses aloft. Cold in their fury, especially his father’s eyes.
“Mrs. Ellis, Reverend,” Coach said, deflecting their ire.
“What kind of operation are you running here?” his mother snapped. “My son was gone for thirty-six hours, going after that drug user, and you didn’t know?”
“Because I asked my team to cover for me,” Dane said. “Coach had nothing to do with it. And Alex didn’t use any drugs.”
“He put that boy on your team.”
Always, that boy, never Alex.
Dane’s confidence, his own anger, came screaming back. He’d put a name to the man he loved, even if they wouldn’t. “Alex earned his spot on his team. I’m the one who’s lucky to be on it. Just like I’m lucky he still loves me.”
“Love,” his mother scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re too young to know what that word means.”
“Respectfully, ma’am,” Coach said, stepping to Dane’s side, “what your son did for Alex is a level of devotion I rarely see from people much older than him.”
She waved him off. “It’s a phase, Coach Hartl. He hasn’t grown out of it yet.”
“Respectfully,” Coach started again, obviously trying to keep things civil, “I don’t think you understand how this works.”
Civility wasn’t going to work with his parents. “You don’t owe them respect,” Dane said to Coach. “Not until they show you, me, or Alex some.” Then to his mother, “I’m twenty-six. Like I told you the other night, me being gay isn’t a phase now, and it wasn’t a phase at sixteen. It’s who I am.”
Painted lips pressed together, she looked stymied. “We can’t have a gay son.”
“Well, you do.” That was the simple truth of it.
His father finally spoke, his voice brooking no argument, full of fire and brimstone, in only two words. “We don’t.”
A boulder of ice lodged in the pit of Dane’s stomach. He’d known it was coming to this, but to be actually disowned by his parents, to be made to feel like he didn’t exist in their world because of something he couldn’t help, was a regretfully Titanic moment. Only the thought of Alex waiting for him, loving him, kept him from sinking.
“If this is the path you chose, it is not the path to God, and we cannot join you on it. Nor can you join us on ours.”
But it wasn’t a choice he made. Being gay was no different than his blue eyes or his red hair. He couldn’t change who he was attracted to, who he loved.
“That’s a very narrow interpretation,” Coach said.
“It’s the Word of the Gospel.”
“Your narrow interpretation of it. One you’re willing to choose over your son?” Coach laid a hand on his shoulder, and Dane swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “A son you should be proud of, for sticking by his friends, standing up for someone he loves, and being one of the best swimmers in the world.”
“Dane, please reconsider,” his mother said, no real plea in her voice. It was more like a final sales pitch, capped with a threat because that’s what she did best. “You’ll lose everything.”
He held his head high and drew his shoulders back, summoning up that confidence from the airport, the confidence in being himself, in being real. “I’ve reconsidered all my life, Mom. And if I do it again this time, I’ll lose the two things that matter most—myself and Alex.”
Another voice entered the fray. “You won’t lose everything,” Roger said from the doorway, winded but smiling, Bas looking on from over his shoulder. “We were right. After that announcement at the airport, I’ve had calls from a dozen new companies wanting to sponsor you. Alex too, if you can wrangle him. And all your current sponsors are still onboard.”
“Those existing sponsorships are in the Trust’s name,” his mother said.
Bas rapped his knuckles on the doorjamb. “Good thing I know a fantastic lawyer.” Dane tilted his head in question, and Bas smiled, wide and more than a little devious. “My mom,” he answered. “She’s gonna hate you because she’s always wanted Alex for a son-in-law, but she’ll love you for making him happy.”
That block of ice in Dane’s stomach began to thaw. Coach chipped away at it some more. “And if you need a job, which doesn’t sound like you will, but if you do, I’ll make sure you’ve got one at USOC.”
Where he could coach and swim, side by side with Alex, every day. He’d like that, a lot. “I might take you up on that, sponsorships or not.”
“Dane, we’re your family,” his mother urged, changing her tune, a never-heard-before thread of desperation in her voice. With Roger’s pronouncement, and Bas and Coach rallying to his side, she was seeing her golden goose take flight.
Fly, babe.
That’s what Alex would say, and that’s what he did, fighting back, flying high. “Only if I fit into the role that suits you, a role that’s not the real me.” He looked around, at Coach, at Bas, and thought about Alex and Jacob in the pool, and Mo back in DC. “I’ve got plenty of family who like me just the way I am.”
“Son,” his father clipped. “You can’t go back from here.”
“I don’t plan to. I’m going forward, with Alex, with my team, and we’re going to bring home the gold.”
“And on that note,” Coach said, breaking into a smile as he gestured to the door. “Reverend, Mrs. Ellis, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Respectfully.”