Page 168 of Beyond the Stroke

I stare at her last message. My fingers hover over the screen to respond, but then drop.

We need to talk.

My stomach summersaults and I realize I’ve never hated four words more. There’s no accompanying smiley face emoji or red heart to ease the panic. But Summer isn’t really a smiley face emoji kind of girl, so maybe it’s not so ominous.

So, I pocket my phone and glance around the team lounge until I spot Connor sitting alone on a chair in the corner looking at his phone.

We’d finished up the meet three hours ago, and after a team dinner, and a visit to Charlie, I’d decided to skip a round ofAmerican Gridironin Logan’s hotel room to catch up with Whitney. After her week on the road and a stellar performance today, hitting a personal record and meet record for the women’s four-hundred-meter individual medley, I’d been excited to talk with her.

But even with all the excitement today, I couldn’t shake the image of Charlie’s face in my mind.

The doctor had just given him the news—his shoulder wasn’t going to recover. At first, I thought he was going to fight it. Charlie’s always been the kind of guy who pushed through any obstacle, but today, there was no defiance in his eyes. Only resignation. He’d looked at me and with quiet acceptance, said, “It’s over.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I sat with him until he said he was tired and wanted to rest. It was hard to leave him like that, but I knew he needed his space.

When I got back to the hotel, though, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw outside Whitney’s room.

There they were—Whitney and Connor—locked in an embrace.

It wasn’t just the fact that they’d spent a week together with The Rising Tides Foundation, but it was the look in Connor’s eyes that made something uneasy twist in my stomach. The tension between them was undeniable, and for a split second, I wondered if it was more than just a friendship developing.

I asked Whitney about it, but she brushed it off, so I backed off.

Even after everything today, there’s still one thing hanging over me.

Upon my approach, Connor straightens up and drops his phone to the low table in front of him.

“We need to talk.”

Internally, I laugh at the irony of my words. Maybe that’s why Summer’s text is scaring the hell out of me. There’s weight to it that I’m terrified won’t be in my favor.

Connor nods. “Yeah, we do.”

“Let’s not waste time pretending this is something it’s not. You know you screwed up. Taking that deal behind my back didn’t just mess with a contract, it blew up everything we had. Trust. Respect. All of it.”

My gaze stays locked on Connor, steady and unflinching.

“And what came after? You didn’t even try to make it right. No apology. Just years of silence…and then contempt, like I was the one who betrayed you.”

Connor’s jaw tightens. “I know I messed up. But I never meant to betray your trust. I was desperate. I needed the money for my mom’s treatment.”

My chest tightens. “Shit. I didn’t know.” I drop my gaze, anger cooling into something heavier. “You should’ve told me.”

“I wanted to. But my agent said if I did, the deal would be dead. I was naïve and didn’t see that the whole thing was a set up to start a narrative of a rivalry I didn’t want. I didn’t see it for what it was until it was too late.”

That guts me. That this whole thing started with him scared for his mom, and he was taken advantage of by someone who only saw dollar signs instead of people.

“When I finally got out of the contract, I cleaned house. New agent. New coach. And after years of training alone, I knew I needed a team again.”

That’s why he came to the Current.

I study him, seeing him a little clearer now.

“I thought if I showed up, apologized, and worked my ass off, we could move on. But you looked at me like I’d broken something that couldn’t be fixed.”

“I did feel that way. It felt like another ambush. Like you were trying to stir shit up again.”

“That wasn’t my intention.” His voice dips. “But I was hurt too, man. I know I was the one who broke it, but when you cut me off like that…it felt like I didn’t matter. Like all those years meant nothing.”

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