Page 21 of Full Split
"Let's get out of here. It's not worth it."
"Just trying to help," Peter calls behind us. "It's a matter of safety. You never know what could happen if she's caught alone in a men's restroom."
The way Weston's shoulders stiffen is a bad sign. I push him towards the door. "Out. Now." Flinging the door open, I notice several people standing around, looking at us warily. "See?" I whisper-yell to West. "He's just stirring up shit to cover his own. Don't let him win."
"I don't want you going to the bathroom alone anymore. You need to take me or Dad with you."
Excuse me?"I don't need a fucking babysitter, West."
"That sounded like a direct threat to me, Niles," he says, gripping my arm to keep me close. "And he's right about one thing, you don't know what could happen if?—"
Peter pushes out into the hall, smirking when he sees me exchanging heated whispers with Weston.
"Peter can't do shit to me," I say, raising my voice so the people around us can hear. "He's just jealous my dick's bigger."
Weston laughs so loud, it takes even me by surprise. Several other people within earshot, friends of mine that have supported me in the wake of Peter's bullshit, also laugh. Peter's face turns bright red, and he stomps down the hallway, steam practically pouring from his ears.
CHAPTER 8
WYATT
The drive home from Illinois took five hours longer than it should have thanks to a storm system that parked itself over half the state. It wasn’t just the traffic or the white-knuckled grip I kept on the wheel, it was the tension—thick and simmering between me and Niles. Part of it was the charged moments we shared over the course of the trip, but a larger part was our disagreement over what should be done about Peter Trenton.
In my opinion, we should be filing a formal complaint at all levels. I’m positive that the Athlete Safety department of USA Gymnastics would step in and do something about the public harassment that occurred at a USAG-sanctioned event. If not, the U.S. Center for SafeSport would be interested to hear about the outright abuse that occurred in bathrooms. Peter could be banned from competing ever again.
Hell, if I’d had it my way, we would have reported the incident to the on-site event director. There were multiple witnesses of Peter’s inappropriate “jokes” referring to Niles as a woman, and if I heard correctly, enough people were congregating around the halls when they had their altercation in the bathroom, too. Enough to corroborate that Peter was the one picking fights, inthe event he tried to say otherwise. Not to mention the bruise across the lower part of Niles’ back from where he hit the sink.
Even Peter’s coach knows he’s out of hand. He’d come over to me earlier in the day, before the competition started, and apologized for Peter’s behavior the day before. After observing Peter throughout the competition, I think what Niles and Weston said about Peter being on steroids might be accurate. If not steroids, then some other substance that is having a big impact on not only his physical appearance, but his behavior. He’s always been a brat, for as long as we’ve been in the same competition group with him, but the inappropriate impulses and anger outbursts are concerning.
I’m worried the situation with Peter will escalate, but it’s Niles’ call. He doesn’t want to draw more attention to the media circus surrounding him, which I can understand. I just don’t see how he’ll be able to focus on the path ahead if Peter’s behavior continues to be an issue.
The argument escalated when we were halfway home and Niles caught on to Weston making a point to follow him into the restroom when we stopped for gas. I understand why he was upset, I really do, but I also know how afraid Weston was when he’d realized Niles had been in the bathroom for too long, and that Peter had followed him in. My soft-hearted son had cried to me that night, that he’d been genuinely terrified that something bad could have happened to his best friend. The words that Peter had used, whether he’d back them up or not, were horrific. And heartbreaking because of how true they could be.
Niles isn’t safe as long as people like Peter are around.
Eventually, Niles made a convincing argument that he's not likely to be recognized by the general public. No one was lookingat him or watching us anywhere we went, but I still noticed how closely Weston kept an eye on him. There was a silent agreement between us that we'd both make sure nothing bad happened like that again.
We took a couple of days to recover once we got back, to let the guys rest their joints, soak in the hot tub, and sleep in. I dove straight into work. Claimed I was catching up after travel, which was half true. The other half was avoiding the gym as if my sanity depended on it.
Sid threw a surprise party for the boys on their first day back after the Classic. There were streamers, banners, a catered table of protein-heavy snacks, and a hired photographer to take press shots. Sid gave a short speech, clapping both Weston and Niles on the back with a proud smile before launching into how Nationals are just around the corner. He told the gathered crowd that he’s never been prouder, but that he's going to need to rely on me more than ever.
Sid had already called me with the news the day before. His Achilles tear is worse than originally thought. Surgery is scheduled for the same week we’ll be gone for Nationals. And considering he has a brutal rehabilitation period ahead of him, he’s unlikely to even make it to Belgium for the Worlds Competition in September.
I told him we’ve got it covered. The boys are ready. I didn’t have to do much at the Classic aside from spotting and clipboard duty. It’s true, they barely need any coaching at all. Still, I avoided looking at Niles when I said it. Because the reality is I wasn’t just hands-off during the last competition. I was hiding.
He made me feel so out of control I didn’t trust myself to even speak to him.
In the last couple of weeks since we’ve been back, I’ve been spending more time in my office, locked behind multiple monitors, eyes glazed from too many hours reading lines of code. It’s easier this way. Let the distraction of work chew up my time instead of thinking about the way Niles looks at me, or the way I feel when I look back.
Today is a little different. I’ve been forced out of my office for an impromptu pool party. I’ve escaped inside under the guise of getting food ready to grill for dinner. Everything’s prepped, but I’m watching Weston and Aimee splash around in the pool. They’re laughing as they wrestle around, Weston drifting deeper into the pool with her legs wrapped around his waist. They’re young and in love and completely unbothered by the world. Free and happy.
And all I can think is that’s what Niles deserves.
Not me.
Even if I gave in to whatever this thing is between us, it would always have to be hidden. Carefully managed. Never simple. I’d never be able to give him what Weston and Aimee have. The freedom. The lightness.
He deserves more than that.
