Jacob stood in the corner of the L-shaped, on-deck cubby tower, waiting on a call from Josh. Seven hours ahead of Texas, he’d forced himself, against every instinct, not to text until afternoon Central European Time. Josh had texted right back that Jacob’s dad needed to check in with his doctor first. That was thirty minutes ago, and Jacob was about to crawl out of his skin waiting for an update. With only five minutes until afternoon practice, the call window was closing, fast. If Jacob had to get in the water while still in the dark about his dad, he’d be even more useless than he’d been this morning.
Two words into another text and his phone finally vibrated, Josh’s face filling the screen. Time short, Jacob didn’t waste it on greetings. “How’s Dad today? Did he sleep? What did Doc say?”
“Yo, cuz, chill. Everything’s fine.” His cousin sounded relaxed, like he was kicked back at the kitchen table enjoying his morning coffee.
Jacob tried not to sound as if he wanted to strangle him. “Yo, cuz, details.”
“Yeesh,” Josh muttered, and Jacob knew he’d failed. “Uncle D settled after you talked to him yesterday. Ate fine, took one of his pills, and passed out in his chair watching the Astros get clobbered by the Giants.”
“Did he sleep through the night?”
“All the way. I was on the couch, across the room from him.”
Guilt washed over Jacob, his murderous impulses quelled. If Josh was kicked back this morning, he deserved it after a night on that lumpy old sofa.
“No more nightmares,” Josh added, and Jacob breathed a sigh of relief.
It’d been a nightmare that had set Davis off yesterday. He’d dozed in the garage office, a nightmare took hold, and when the new shop guy had tried to shake him awake, new guy found himself on the floor.
Jacob had made that mistake once, right after his dad had returned home from his last tour, when none of them realized how bad it had been. Jacob had wound up on the floor too. Josh’s dad had pulled Davis off with seconds to spare before he ran out of breath. Jacob suspected that had been the beginning of the end for his mother, having to scream across the street for her brother-in-law to come save her kid. After a year of ups and downs, medicines that had caused manic and depressive episodes, and nightly fights over money and therapy that Jacob had heard through the walls, she’d left. Jacob had seen the wear on her—he’d felt it too, understood it was hard—but he’d been terrified of taking on his father’s recovery alone, at thirteen, so he’d asked her for what he’d needed. To give his father a little more time. To stay for him. She’d told Jacob he could come with her, but Jacob wouldn’t leave his father, the hero who’d done more than his share to keep him and their country safe.
“I want to talk to him,” Jacob said.
“Can’t. Uncle D’s in the shower, and you should wait until the scheduled time later.”
Head bowed, hand wrapped around the back of his neck, Jacob paced a circle around the tiny corner. “What’s he doing today?”
“Doc cleared him to go to work.”
“You sure that’s the best thing?”
“Burrows!” Coach hollered behind him. “You know the rules. No calls on deck.”
Jacob muted the phone and glanced over his shoulder. After his miserable showing this morning, the last thing Jacob wanted to do was draw more of Hartl’s ire. “Family emergency,” he said. “Just need to be sure it’s settled.”
Coach’s irritation dissolved into concern. “You need more time?”
“No, I’ll just be another minute. I’m sorry.”
“Pup, if you need—”
Jacob shook his head. “It’ll be fine, Coach.”
“Don’t start that shit with me. I’ve already got ‘Mr. I’m Fine’ over there,” he said, jutting a thumb at Alex.
Jacob couldn’t help but laugh. “My cousin’s handling it,” he said, some of his tension easing. “But with the time difference, I just got ahold of him.”
“Okay then, finish up,” Coach said, walking on by. “Medley relay’s up first.”
Unmuting the line, Jacob brought the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, Coach interrupted.”
“You need to go?” Josh said.
“Yeah, and you and Doc are right about the routine, with work and the calls. I’m sorry. I’m just . . . out of sorts, being unable to help from here.”
“It’s fine, cuz. I understand it’s frustrating.” He really had no idea, but Jacob appreciated the sentiment, and his cousin’s patience. “Uncle Beau’s going to keep a close watch at the shop today.” Beau was the third brother and owner of the garage where Jacob’s dad worked. “You’ll call Davis after your practice, and I’ll take him to his support group tonight after dinner.”
Jacob ran a hand over his head, as relieved as he could be under the circumstances. “Okay, thanks. Call or text if there’s a problem.”
“There won’t be.”
Jacob hoped like hell he was right. They finished up, and Jacob shoved his phone, towel, and flops in his designated cubby.
“Yo, Pup,” Kevin said, coming around the side of the cubby tower with Sean. “What’s up with your boy today?”
“My boy?”
Kevin nodded toward Bas at the other end of the pool, and Jacob prayed he didn’t blush too noticeably. Was his crush on Bas that obvious? Or had Dane seen more than he’d let on last night and told others on the team?
“Your mentor,” Kevin went on. “He wasn’t at morning practice or lunch, and now he’s stomping around like an angry tattooed bear.”
Jacob tried not to look too relieved, or too confused, as he eyed Bas stalking the far end of the pool. There was no other word for it. Gone was the ever-present tablet, Bas’s fingers white-knuckling goggles and a cap instead. Gone were his relaxed shoulders and easy bearing, his body rigid and his gait jerky. Gone was his smile and laid-back manner, replaced with a virtual thundercloud over his head and a storm brewing in his blue eyes.
Approach with caution.
Or more accurately, Do Not Approach.
“I don’t think he came back to the academy last night,” Mike said, joining their slow stroll to the other end of the pool. “His key was still at the security desk this morning when we left to run.”
“Did he, Pup?” Sean asked.
All their eyes swung to Jacob.
“I don’t know,” he lied. “I was out pretty hard after we got back.”
The rumor was true; Bas hadn’t come back last night. Jacob had stayed awake into the wee hours, waiting for Bas to accept the invitation he’d thrown out there in the alley, then worrying when it became clear he wasn’t going to. Add to that the heavy guilt of leaving his father and the swirling doubts over competing in Madrid, and he’d felt like a castaway on a rickety ocean raft—hopeless, nauseous, and frustrated without even a volleyball to squawk to. They were two days from the Olympics, and everything was unravelling. And it was all his fault.
“I saw him flirting with that bartender at the pub,” Kevin said, as they huddled to a stop.
“According to Ryan,” Mike said, “he broke up with his boyfriend at the start of the last Olympics, then fucked his way through the next two weeks, women and men.”
Kevin nodded. “That’s the reason they silvered in medley relay. Bas and his ex, Team Spain’s rock star who also swam at USC, got into a big fight opening night. Bas was out with someone new that night and every night after. Alex covered for him, but they were still off. Fucked the other guy up worse. He was the favorite in his events and didn’t medal at all.”
“Dude’s a fucking legend,” Sean said, jutting his chin at Bas. “Women and men lining up. I expect no less this go round, especially since he’s been a monk all through training.”
“Until last night,” Kevin said with a leer.
Jacob’s stomach did another of those awful flips, nowhere near as graceful as the somersault a diver made off the platform to his right. When Bas hadn’t returned last night, he’d convinced himself that Bas had crashed in the lounge or in Alex and Dane’s room, not accepting his invitation and not wanting to make him feel embarrassed. Jacob could explain away the near-kiss as comfort offered, then reined back in. But apparently Bas hadn’t been thinking of him at all. Hearing he’d accepted someone else’s invitation, and about Bas’s popularity at the last Games, reminded Jacob where he ranked—at the very back of a very long line he’d stupidly and ineptly tried to butt into. He’d made a fool of himself—grabbing Bas’s wrists, holding him close, and asking for too much. Awkward Jacob was making things awkward, surprise, and jeopardizing the squad’s chance at relay gold because he wanted . . . what with Bas—a kiss, a hookup, more?
Sean elbowed him, jostling him out of his sinking thoughts. “Works out for you and Leah. Room to yourself.”
Jacob shook his head. “She’s nice, but we’re just friends.”
“She wants to be more than just friends with you,” Kevin said.
Heads swung as they checked out the women’s team across the pool. Leah was staring right at Jacob, eyeing him with flirtatious interest. Close in age, they had similar interests, more than just swimming and breaststroke in common, and Leah’s bubbly personality was a pleasant distraction. Jacob liked hanging out with her, and she seemed to like hanging out with him too, against all odds. She even got his stupid jokes, or at least pretended to. He could see their friendship continuing after the Games. But more? The last thing he wanted to do was lead Leah on, because if he had a shot with Bas . . . But did he? What was the sense in pushing after his bumbling foul last night? When he wasn’t even on Bas’s radar? But he was on Leah’s. Would he drop off it, though, when she realized he was bi? Or that he was a super uncool virgin?
Mike slapped his shoulder. “Now he’s thinking.”
“Maybe don’t think too hard yet,” Kevin said, laughing. “You’ll have your pick of chicks when we get to Madrid.”
Or dudes.
Coach blew his whistle before Jacob could correct them. Not that he would, yet. He wasn’t closeted, but the team was already dealing with enough drama and press attention without him causing more.
“Medley relay’s first,” Hartl shouted. “Rest of you fools out of the water.”
“Let’s roll, ladies!” Coach Albert shouted, rounding up her squad to go to Pool Two.
Leah waved as they walked past. “Have a good practice, Jacob.”
“You too,” he replied, on his way to the blocks where Dane was giving Alex a hand down into the water, Bas standing off to the side.
“What was that about?” Bas asked, storm still raging in his eyes.
The heavy, humid air did nothing to chase away the chill that crept up Jacob’s spine. “She was just saying hi.”
“Not her,” Bas snapped. “The phone.”
Jacob rubbed his hands up and down his arms, leaving one clasped over the wrapped tattoo. He’d had to do that himself this morning, for the first time since the night Bas had inked him. “Checking in with Josh,” he said.
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s good.”
With a curt nod, Bas turned his back and stepped to the other side of the block, shutting him out.
Jacob’s stomach flipped again, landing ungracefully at his feet.
Ungraceful became a theme over the next two days.
Ungraceful starts, with Jacob off his timing and out of sorts as he hit the water. Ungraceful swims, as his mind drifted and his stroke suffered. Who would believe he’d been the one giving Terrence turn tips earlier in the week? Terrence, who continued to improve daily, who looked like a pro, while Jacob looked like he’d wandered in off the street, unsure what was going on.
Never more so than in medley relay practice. Jacob was used to focusing on Bas during his return lap, swimming harder to reach him, their breaths so in sync they didn’t have to think about timing their exchange. They’d practiced that technique, back in Colorado and Texas, until it had become second nature. Now, however, after Bas’s absence the last two nights and his cold shoulder in practices, Jacob was out of sync. His breathing was off, and he hesitated on his approach, uncertain who or what he was reaching for.
He wasn’t handling Leah’s advances gracefully either. And she was definitely making them—hanging out with him more at the pool, jogging by his side on morning runs, sitting with him at lunch. Jacob didn’t mind the company; she was one of the bright spots in his increasingly gray days, her pleasant chatter filling the hours between practices and calls home. He wished he could return the favor, be a better friend and conversationalist.
With Bas out of reach, he’d started to think he might also like to be more than just friends with Leah, but between his mounting frustration and tendency to get tongue-tied, his uncoolness was a major stumbling block. One he didn’t think even she could continue to ignore. He’d be lucky if she gave him the time of day once they reached Madrid. She’d be the one to find someone cooler and more interesting, then he’d lose his shot. Unless he channeled his cousin’s swagger and made a move tonight.
Freshly determined, he turned his face toward the showerhead and pretended it could wash away the dork. He’d take a nap, watch an episode or two of Black Sails, and get his Charles Vane on. His determination wavered, however, when he heard the door to the room outside open and close.
If he had to guess, Bas would be in and out in a flash, just swinging by to grab his tablet. Jacob could hide in the bathroom and wait for him to leave again, or he could try to deal with some of the awkwardness now, before the team dinner. At minimum, he owed Bas an apology for the other night and for his shitty performance in the pool the past couple of days.
Toweling off quickly, he wrapped the terry cloth around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom, nearly running into Bas. As predicted, he was already on his way back out, tablet in hand. Path blocked, Bas stopped in his tracks, and the heat from his blue eyes raking over Jacob’s torso scalded. And confounded. Jacob wasn’t sure what he was seeing—or wasn’t—anymore.
He cleared his throat, and Bas whipped his gaze to the side, mumbling an apology. Jacob could have let it go, or made his own apology. Instead, eyes straying to Bas’s perfectly made bed, Jacob lobbed a different question into the already murky waters between them.
“Where did you sleep last night?”
“Downstairs lounge.” Bas brandished his tablet. “Fell asleep sketching.”
“Oh.” Perfectly reasonable, for a couple of hours, but none of the lounge couches were long enough for six-foot-plus Bas to sleep on all night.
“Night before that, I was at Ernie’s,” he added, unprompted.
Hearing Bas confirm Mike’s rumor was a kick to Jacob’s gut.
Bas’s “on his couch” didn’t soften the blow much either. He’d still chosen to sleep elsewhere, to continue to avoid him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Jacob said.
“Violated the two-drink maximum,” Bas replied. “Thought it safer to sober up first.”
Jacob’s eyes widened. “How much did you violate it by?”
Bas cupped a hand over his forehead, as if remembering the pain there. “A lot.”
“So it’s not just me the stress is getting to?”
Bas laughed, harsh and frustrated, yet it was still better than his silence. “You’re not the only one. Not by a long shot.” His eyes flickered up, exposing exhaustion. And not the satisfied sort.
Some of the pain in Jacob’s gut eased, at the same time worry for Bas bloomed. “I’ll sleep in the lounge tonight,” he offered.
“That’s not necessary.”
“You need to rest too. Sleep in your bed. If you need me gone, I’ll be gone.” The words tasted bitter, wrong, even though earlier he’d been hoping to be elsewhere, with Leah.
Bas’s lips twisted, caught between a smile and a frown. “What about what you need?”
Jacob’s breath caught and his mind stuttered, overloaded by too many answers to that very loaded question. Before he could grab hold of one, his phone rattled on the table, cutting off his deliberation. His nightly call from home was right on time. If he didn’t answer it now, he wouldn’t get another chance to talk to his dad tonight, and tomorrow was iffy, with traveling, opening ceremonies, and the Village opening-night party.
But would he get another chance to finish this conversation with Bas?
Torn, he glanced back and forth between the phone and Bas.
The latter made the decision for him, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “We’ll work it out tonight, after dinner.”
Jacob held Bas’s hand there with one of his own. “You promise?”
“Promise. For now, go talk to your dad. Tell him I said hi.”
For the first time in days, Jacob thought maybe he’d handled something gracefully.