CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
As instructed by the text message he just received, Sasha gravitates toward the fountain nearest the raised reception desk. Scanning the adjacent seating islands, he spots a familiar looking face, and his suspicion is confirmed when the younger man stands and walks to meet him with an outstretched hand.
"Coach Belov."
Sasha eases past a couple who are posing for photos on one of the atrium's mini bridge, smiling in welcome as he shakes the man's hand. "Ryan, good to meet you."
"My husband, Zach," Ryan introduces briskly, tipping his head toward a taller man, standing a few paces back, who nods.
"Zach," Sasha nods back, then gestures for them both to follow him.
Rather than deal with more glares for ruining photographs, Sasha turns down an unblocked pathway toward the other elevator bank. "You guys have a good flight?"
"Long." Ryan is Sasha's height, dark haired where his sister is blonde, broad where she is tiny. "Like I said on the phone, I appreciate the call. The NGO were stonewalling me and Louise wouldn't answer her damn cell. I was going crazy."
Zach jogs ahead and sticks his hand out to jam the doors open on an elevator just about to leave. "Crazy's a bit of an understatement." He softens his obvious worry with a half-smile.
"So you haven't had any contact with Louise?" Sasha ventures, prodding a finger onto the thirteen button as the doors close again, this time with them inside.
Ryan's jaw contracts with anger. Zach squeezes his husband's shoulder and answers for him. "They're not on the best of terms."
Sasha suspects that, too, is a large understatement. "When was the last time you saw Drea?"
"Two years," Ryan answers, without having to calculate. "We only live a few hours down the freeway from LA but Louise..." Ryan breaks off, tipping his head back and forth. He's clearly spoiling for a fight.
"I understand," Sasha says calmly, not envying this young man having to deal with Louise Conway on a permanent basis.
"How is she?" Ryan asks, fear quieting his voice. He has the same blue, wide eyes as his sister.
"To be honest, I'm not sure," Sasha says, folding his arms. "She cried when the test result came through but hasn't really shown that much emotion since," he pauses, "not even when Louise left."
Ryan's fists are clenched and Zach's hand is digging hard into his shoulder. Sasha suspects without that restraint, one of the elevator mirrors would be smashed by now.
"She didn't say goodbye, leave a note, anything?" Ryan snaps.
Sasha shakes his head, checking the flashing numbers; they just passed twelve. "It hit her hard, the positive test. I don't think she was thinking straight." He doesn't believe a word, is simply aiming to placate Ryan rather than defend Conway, and is glad the elevator's arrival negates the need for further conversation; his poker face has never been very good.
A point to the right from Sasha is all direction Ryan needs. He breaks into a jog along the corridor, Sasha and Zach at his heels, but stops suddenly when he rounds the second corner. Sitting on the floor outside her propped open hotel room door, legs crossed and back hunched, Drea is flicking through a magazine.
"Drea?" Ryan murmurs, hesitating.
The curtain of curls move first as Drea lifts her head. Then her eyes, swinging round to find their match in her brother's face.
"Ry?" Her thin voice is unsure as she pushes cautiously to her feet. Tears pop up, unmitigating relief flooding over her, and she starts to sway. "Ry?"
Two strides and Ryan sweeps his sister into his arms, lifting her off the floor and holding her tight. Drea's body shakes as the tears overwhelm her, as she clings to her brother with all the strength she has left.
"Thanks," Zach nods gratefully as Sasha hands him a can of Red Bull from the couple of six packs Marty - eager to get back in his good books - dropped off earlier. "Couldn't sleep at all on the flight."
"No problem. You were saying? About Drea's father?"
"He died about six years ago, so it's not like I ever met him, and I know you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but, Christ." Zach bites back what would surely be a long list of curses and starts over.
"No official visitation rights were ever worked out, so Drea getting to see her dad or her brother was rare and always on Louise's terms. After he died, Ryan pushed to see Drea more often but…" Another gulp of energy drink though Zach's voice is already buzzing with caffeine. "I've been with Ryan three years, and I've met Drea twice, so you can see how well that worked out."
Sasha, leaning against the corridor wall, swigs deep from his own Red Bull. Drea and Ryan are in her hotel room, packing. "They kept in touch though?"
"Through letters and email, though lately Drea hasn't been replying."
And now we know why, Sasha adds to himself.
"It's really ok for her to come home with us?" Zach asks.
Sasha nods as he swallows the rest of his can. "There are some forms Ryan needs to fill out. Reece can explain all that better than me. She'll be up as soon as she's tracked down a printer. But you both check out as being who you say you are so there shouldn't be any problems."
"Glad to hear you're not letting her go to just anyone who walks in off the street."
Though his tone is light, Zach's dark eyes are assessing. Sasha is reassured by the protectiveness he sees in the younger man for the sister-in-law he barely knows. He stares steadily back as Zach directs his frown to the carpet, waiting for the question he seems to be struggling to pose.
"The cocaine," Zach blurts out. "How bad is it?"
"I'm pretty certain it was a one-time thing." Sasha takes a step closer to Zach, keeps his voice low and calm despite the caffeine surge he just gulped down. "She wanted to spike a test."
"Why?" The drinks can crumples in Zach's clenched hand.
"Basically? I think she wanted out. Out of gymnastics entirely or just out from Louise's control - only Drea can tell you that."
"Jesus Christ," Zach breathes.
A trash can sits next to the ice machine in the alcove halfway down the main corridor. Sasha waits while Zach paces out of sight. He hears the smash of tin on plastic, the can apparently hurled into the trash instead of dropped.
"Not that it matters right now," Zach says, coming back round the corner, "but how does this affect her gymnastics? What are the rules?"
"Automatic ban of one year, but the NGO will take into consideration the exceptional circumstances."
Zach is staring at the painted landscape on the wall beside Drea's door but Sasha has no doubt he's taking note of every word.
"Reece will keep in contact with you and she knows the NGO rules and regs back to front." Sasha hesitates, unsure as to how the rest of the information he has to give will be received. "The paperwork covering Drea's custody is all temporary. Louise could…" he trails off, hating that all the advice he can give is "I'd get a lawyer."
Zach flicks his eyes over to Sasha. Strangely, he looks suddenly calm.
"I am a lawyer."
The elevator dings before Sasha can reply, Reece spilling out in her usual whirlwind of files and notes and preternatural access to pertinent information.
"I swear, the second I get within five feet of a printer, its toner cartridge evaporates! Sorry I'm late, Sasha. Ooh, you got a can of that for me? You're an angel. Hi, you must be the husband. Is it Zachary or do you prefer Zach? Zach, excellent. Well, Zach, I'll say upfront that I totally intend on exploiting that lawyer brain of yours to check these."
As Reece brandishes a sheaf of paper at Zach, who pops a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket and immediately starts reading, Sasha returns to his room to retrieve the requested can of Red Bull. He snaps it from the cardboard sleeve and allows himself a deep breath. His relief at Drea's welfare being passed to others is tinged with shame. When it was his responsibility to protect her, he failed.
"You haven't got a pen have you?" Reece says, bustling up to his open door. "Apparently, I have the same effect on biros as I do on toner cartridges, dry as a bone. Sasha? You ok?"
Blinking twice, Sasha swallows the sudden tightness in his ribs, the crushing weight of regret.
"Sorry, Reece, what did you need?"
The door is ajar but Payson knocks once with a knuckle anyway as she stands on the threshold. Drea's back is to her but the dark haired guy standing on the other side of the bed smiles and waves for her to come in.
"Hey," he says, walking across to meet her. "You're Payson Keeler, right? Ryan Griffin, I'm Drea's brother."
Though he's smiling, Payson can see the fatigue in his eyes. "Nice to meet you," she says, shaking his hand.
"Hi!" A voice sounds from the other side of the room. Payson can't identify the source until she spots a pair of long, jean-clad legs jutting from behind the other bed.
"That's Zach," Ryan explains. "He's looking for a hair clip."
"I think my arm's stuck."
"No, it's not," Ryan shouts over his shoulder and then, in a loud whisper, "he likes to think his muscles are bigger than they really are."
"I heard that!" Zach's muffled voice complains.
Though Payson knows the lightheartedness is forced, it is succeeding in getting Drea to smile a little. Biting her bottom lip, she comes to stand by her brother. "I'm glad you came by, I was worried I wouldn't get to see you before we leave." She's wearing Beth's Yankee Cap.
"Couldn't let you go without a proper goodbye," Payson smiles, following Ryan's lead and keeping things as upbeat as possible.
"Seriously guys, my arm is stuck. I think gangrene is starting to set in."
Ryan rolls his red eyes. "Are you sure you still want to come live with us?" he asks Drea.
"I'll risk it," she smiles, though, like her brother, all her expressions are shaky with emotion.
"Unless you want to be widower, Ry, get your ass over here!"
"He couldn't do us all a favour, and get his mouth stuck?"
When Ryan jogs over to his husband, in the few seconds that he is out of his sister's sightline, Payson sees his feigned jollity falter, sees worry and anger pale his face. She quickly turns her attention back to Drea, feeling like she's witnessed something private.
"This is my email address and cell number." She fishes a note out of her pocket. "I'll call you when I get back to Boulder but if you need anything before then use either of these, ok?"
Blunt as she had been, Kelly was right; Payson had wanted to prove something with Lauren; that she could be the best at forgiving, be the best at helping someone. It's different with Drea.
"Thanks," Drea says, quietly. She looks at the carpet, turning the paper over in her fingers. "Beth...?" Nervously, she glances up at Payson.
"Kelly and I will watch out for Beth, don't worry," Payson reassures.
There's nothing else to say because there's too much else to say. Payson swears to herself that she will keep in touch with Drea; not like when she promised Natalie she'd call after she left Taft High and never did.
"Thanks," Drea says again. Tears are sneaking into her voice.
"Found it!" Zach announces, grinning as he stands, hair clip held aloft like a trophy, then balances it on his head and tries to walk over to Drea without it falling.
"And, amazingly, there was no gangrene," Ryan follows behind and lightly flicks Zach in the back of his head so the hair clip jolts to the carpet.
"Ah man." All six foot three of Zach slumps as the hair clip rebounds off the carpet and bounces under Drea's bed.
"You," he rounds on Ryan, laying a smack-lipped kiss to his husband's forehead, "suck. Hear that?" He turns to Drea, lifting off her cap and placing it on her head backward. "Your brother sucks."
Though their smiles are tainted by a history Payson isn't sure will ever fully heal, this new family of three laugh together as Zach falls to his knees and starts fumbling around under the bed to once again retrieve the hair clip.
Payson watches Drea lean against Ryan and Ryan automatically pull his little sister into a protective hug.
"They're in, that's all that matters," Kelly announces, as if that concludes the discussion.
She, Payson, and Beth are on her bed watching the TV. The scoreboard shows that Team USA have captured the fourth spot in the men's team final.
"Maybe they'd have done better if we had gone and sung for them like they did for us," Beth suggests. She and Kelly are propped up against the headboard, while Payson's lying flat along the end of the mattress, neck at an angle Kelly's already said isn't healthy.
"Not with Kelly's voice," Payson says. Kelly jabs a toe into her thigh. "What? I've heard you in the shower, Parker, it's painful."
Beth giggles but puts her hands over her mouth when Kelly glares at her. "Sorry," she says, voice muffled by her fingers.
"You are both tone deaf," Kelly defends, "no appreciation for... Come in!" she interrupts her speech to answer the knock at the door, "true talent."
Payson snorts into the mattress.
"You guys in the middle of something?" Sasha muses as he enters the room.
"Kelly's auditioning for American Idol next year," Payson smirks up at Sasha, twisting onto her back and propping herself up on her elbows.
"Really?" Sasha raises his eyebrows, "Wow, Kelly, I didn't realise your talents were so varied."
Payson snorts again and Sasha coughs to keep a straight face.
"You're mocking me," she narrows her eyes first at Payson, then at their coach. "I'm being mocked. You," she pokes Beth in the shoulder, "are my witness, they're mocking me."
Beth nods then looks at Sasha. "I read To Kill A Mockingbird last month. Why wasn't it called To Kill a Boo Radley?"
That random segue is too much for Sasha and a smile blooms over his face as Payson laughs and Kelly gapes.
"You had all your stitches out." Beth notices, smiling too.
"Did Dr Jake say everything was healing ok?" Payson asks, a flash of worry darkening her laughter.
Sasha's eyes soften as he looks down at her. "I'm as healthy as a horse," he says.
"Yeah," Kelly rolls her eyes though her relief is clear. "A really stupid horse that just tried to jump a barbed wire fence."
"Thank you, Miss Parker." Sasha rolls his eyes in imitation of his gymnast who tries really hard not to laugh at the impersonation. "Anyway," he redirects the conversation, "I just wanted to check to see you were all ok. Ryan just called from the airport, he's got them all on a flight tonight."
"That's great," Payson says, glancing quickly at Beth to gauge her reaction. She showed up at the door about ten minutes after Drea left, flopped down on Kelly's bed to watch the men's qualifying session and hasn't moved since.
"Lauren and Hayley not with you?" Sasha watches Payson carefully as he speaks. He expected to find the team all in one room; Drea's departure drawing them together. He sees Payson tense, the tendons in her neck that he kissed last night snapping tight. The memory of what they did in the bed behind him adds to the sudden awkwardness in the room.
"They've gone swimming with Darby," Kelly says, looking intently at the TV screen, though they're just repeating routines she's already watched.
Sasha nods slowly. Payson's eyes are still fixed on him. "I see," he says.
"We swam earlier, before you lecture," Kelly continues, "and I should be rewarded for not drowning Little Miss Wouldn't Stop Doing Handstands over there." She jabs a finger toward Beth. "And…"
"Knock knock," Summer's head appears round the door, "I thought I heard voices." She's smiling so brightly as she walks across the room that Sasha has to swallow hard to stop himself wincing.
"Have you read To Kill a Mockingbird?" Beth pipes up, when no one else answers Summer's sudden appearance.
Confusion crosses Summer's brow but the smile still shines, "I have, have you?" There's condescension in her tone and Sasha swallows again, annoyance flushing through him.
Beth nods, expression neutral as usual, but Sasha doesn't miss the way her eyes dart between himself, Payson, and Summer so quickly that if he'd have blinked once he wouldn't have seen them move at all.
"Everything ok, Payson?" Summer's face crumples in concern. "You look a little down."
"She's focusing," Kelly cuts in quickly, "I've told her if the wind changes, her face will stick like that but she isn't listening."
"I have to go to the bathroom," Payson stands suddenly. Sasha thinks she's going to leave without another word but she shoots Summer a forced smile, "I'm fine, Summer, thanks for asking." She glances at Sasha - the look in her eye has him desperate to follow her - then retreats to the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind her.
Kelly turns the TV up louder to fill the silence. Summer, touching Sasha's shoulder, lowers her voice as she leans up to his ear. "Can I talk to you?"
The woman sure can pick her moments, Sasha thinks, but he knows he has to deal with this sooner or later, for Payson's sake.
"Sure, I'll see you guys later," Sasha tells Kelly and Beth.
When he turns to follow Summer out the room, he doesn't miss the warning stare Kelly aims at him.
"Look, Summer, I..." Sasha starts as soon as he shuts his hotel room door, hoping to get in a pre-emptive strike.
"Wait, please Sasha, there's something I need to say first." Summer looks at him imploringly, wringing her hands. She's wearing a kingfisher blue dress and her hair is hanging in waves.
Sasha shuts his mouth and listens; there's no other option.
"I know I said yesterday that I came to Rio because I knew Lauren needed me," she turns away as she talks, apparently finding it easier to look at his room rather than him. "But that's not the only reason."
She pauses suddenly. Sasha follows her eye line. She's looking at his unmade bed, the sheets messed up round the end of the mattress. In a moment's paranoia, Sasha wonders if her morally enhanced vision can make out the long blond hairs laying across the pillows.
"Summer?"
Summer shakes her head from her reverie.
"I wanted to see you."
She looks over her shoulder, blue eyes shining. Her hand strays up to the cross round her neck. "I've really missed you, Sasha."
Her sincerity is unbearable. Sasha may not want to be with her anymore but he certainly doesn't want to hurt her.
Sasha coughs, rubs a hand through his cropped hair. How do you say 'I haven't missed you' kindly?
"Summer, since you've been away, things have changed." His plan is to be vague and fast. "And I don't..."
"Changed how?" Summer interrupts. She's facing him again, frowning in concern. "Are you talking about the accident?"
"Yeah," Sasha nods, why not the accident. "It's made me realise that I can't go back, no matter how difficult it may be. I need to move forward, move on with my life." At least that part's true.
He looks past Summer at his bed, sees Payson's image asleep on her side of the mattress. "We both do," he says, gentle as possible, hoping Summer gets the hint.
Her face brightens. "But don't you see Sasha, that's what I came here to do, to move on. Steve and I..."
"Steve?" Sasha's startled.
"I was scared, Sasha, of how you made me feel, of how I felt when I was with you, and I only went back to Steve because..."
"Because what?" The edges of Sasha's temper are starting to smoulder.
"Because I was in love with you," Summer says, eyes wide.
Sasha blinks. "You agreed to marry someone else because you were in love with me?" he repeats, slowly.
It's all coming flooding back, the games he and Summer have always forced each other to play.
Summer smiles shyly. "It's crazy, I know it sounds crazy, but the time away has given me time to reflect and realise. You scare me, Sasha; you're so different from the man I thought I would fall in love with."
"You mean the fact I don't believe God clicked his fingers and the world popped up out of nothing scares you," Sasha says curtly, bringing them to the point he knows they'll reach in a few minutes anyway.
Summer's smile fades. "Not just that," she says carefully.
"But mostly that," Sasha fills in for her. His atheism stops the conversation as it always does.
"You said you've felt different about life since the accident?" Summer's dress catches in the air con as she steps toward him. "What did you mean by that?" She's giving him that look like she's measuring his soul against her biblical checklist.
"Just that..." and then he gets it. His nose flares as his breathing becomes erratic. "I did not see some white light and Jesus telling me to take the damn wheel if that's where this is going."
Summer stops. His words have offended her. He tries to remember a conversation they've ever had when he didn't end up offending her.
"Is that why you came here? Because you thought I'd be willing to take Jesus as my personal saviour now that he's spared me from joining him as a damn sunbeam?" Sasha studies Summer's face. She's a terrible liar. "That's why you're here." It's not a question this time.
"Sasha," she says, taking on the tone she does when she's about to inform him that he's headed to hell if he doesn't do exactly what she instructs. "I saw the photos of the car on TV. It was so wrecked, I couldn't believe you'd just walked away."
"I didn't just walk away, there was a stretcher and some bloody good paramedics involved."
"But didn't you think, even for a moment?" Summer looks away. "I prayed for you that night," she murmurs.
"Next time donate some money to my HMO, it'll be more effective." Sasha regrets the insult the second he says it. He may disagree with it, but Summer's faith deserves to be more than a cheap punch line. "Sorry," he sighs. He is so tired of this.
"I know you think I'm foolish," Summer says, a hint of annoyance colouring her voice and her cheeks, "but I thought, maybe we were being given a second chance." She takes Sasha's hand, lays fingers over his cast. "And that I owed it to us both to find out if that was true."
Her long lashes blink slowly up at him. There is no kind way to do this.
"I'm sorry, Summer," Sasha says, carefully unfurling her fingers from his broken arm. "But I don't want a second chance."
The words hit hard and Summer looks away like she's been slapped. Sasha doesn't move, not knowing what else to do.
"You're not even willing to give it a try?" Summer murmurs, and there's the anger he remembers that sparks whenever someone disagrees with her.
"Summer..." he says, taking a step away, gentle but warning.
"Is there someone else?" she snaps, expression suddenly hard and cold.
"No," Sasha snaps back, perhaps a little too quickly because Summer's eyes flare.
"Who is she?"
Sasha turns away. He does not need this.
"I think you should go." He opens the door, hoping proximity to other ears will keep Summer's words in her mouth.
He stays facing the bathroom and it's long seconds before he feels Summer stalk past his back. He pushes the door shut without looking at her in the corridor.
A rainy day has given way to a clear night, though skyscraper lights hide the stars that should be shining. Sasha stands beside the hotel room window trying to calm his temper, wishing he could go down to the gym and pound the shit out of a punching bag or a cocky sparring partner. His phone beeps. He steels himself before picking it off the bed, expecting it to be another demand from Summer.
U ok? Xx
It's Payson.
Long day. I'll explain later. What's going on with Lauren? xx
It takes him a while to type; dexterity has never been his strong point and the cast has made him even slower.
Expecting her reply to take some time too, he looks back out the window, mind straying to his neglected Californian cabin, when the phone lights up in his hand. God, she must have nimble fingers, Sasha thinks, then immediately - for his own sanity - wipes the thought from his head.
xplain l8r. safe 2 come over? x
Sasha glances at her side of the bed. He swallows, working hard to allow logic to win out over instinct for once, trying to quell the nagging sensation of foreboding creeping through his blood.
Better not. I think it's too risky tonight. Are you sure you're ok? xx
She's less than fifty feet away and he can't go to her. Luckily the phone beeps again before he can get any angrier.
Ok. miss u tho xx
Payson's not one who expresses sentiment easily so Sasha knows the depth behind those simple words. He's midway through composing a reply when the phone beeps again.
How many pills have you taken today? X
The bay, ringed with lights, shines on the horizon. Sasha stares at the black ocean as, with a sharp inhale, he finally acknowledges the stabbing pain in his ribs, the itching of his skin beneath his cast, the aching of the reknitting bone. Shakes of exhaustion threaten each leg and his bad knee has given up its pretence that a rehabbed joint can ever be as strong as one uninjured.
I'm ok, sweetheart x
He'll fool himself that he's protecting her; it's easier than admitting he can't answer her question because he can't really remember. His mind is pain hazy and every emotional nerve seems to be fraying.
Get some sleep. I love you xxx
Sasha's eyes fall shut. Tears droop from long lashes. It takes him a few minutes to be able to see his phone screen clear enough to type.
I love you xxx
After pressing send, he opens contacts and starts scrolling.
And then he remembers.
Nausea swirls from gut to throat and a grief poisoned scream circles his mind, but the only outward signs of shock at the lapse in memory he manages to keep to flared, stinging eyes.
The number had stayed in Sasha's phone for two years after Nikolai answering again ceased to be a possibility. It's been six months since he finally mustered the strength to delete it.
Staring without seeing into the Rio dark, Sasha feels the ghost of his coach, his mentor, his best friend, pressing at his back. He listens and waits and hopes for Nikolai's voice to sound in his memory, to offer advice from the past that will help him navigate the present, but all he hears is heart deadening silence.