The morning had already gone to hell.
First, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. News alerts, sponsor reps, messages from my agent asking if I could “tone things down” in the next interview—even though I hadn’t spoken in public since the leak. Then my coach pulled me aside during breakfast, all cold eyes and clipped sentences.
“They’re looking into a backup striker, Rivera. Just in case.”
Just in case.
Like I was already out. Like I didn’t matter beyond how well I could sprint.
I left early. Stormed back to my suite, slammed the locker shut so hard it echoed, and didn’t even bother changing into full gear. Hoodie up. Head down. I needed movement, needed a session—something to burn this anger off before it burned me out.
I was halfway to the far field when I spotted Raphina leaning against the fence near the east tunnel, head down, thumbs tapping fast on his phone. He was grinning.
That alone was suspicious.
“What’s so funny?” I asked as I approached.
He didn’t look up. “Zara just said you’ve officially entered your ‘mysterious brooding exile’ era. Wants to know if she should send snacks.”
I stopped walking. “Wait. Zara—Riley’s Zara?”
Raphina glanced up. “Yeah.”
“You’re texting her?”
He smirked. “She texted me first.”
I blinked. “When did that happen?”
He shrugged. “Last week, after they came by the facility. We talked for a bit. Apparently I passed the vibe check.”
I stared at him, caught somewhere between confused and…something else I didn’t want to name. “You’ve been in touch with Riley’s best friend and didn’t think to mention it?”
He gave me a long look. “It’s not classified, Lucas.”
I folded my arms. “What does she want?”
“She wants to know why you’re playing with Riley. And if you’re planning to keep acting like she doesn’t exist until the end of time.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away.
“I’m not playing with her.”
“Yeah?” He pushed off the fence, voice quieting. “Because from the outside, it looks a lot like you are. And it’s messing with her.”
My chest tightened, the weight of it pressing into my ribs.
“She’s not the reason everything’s blowing up,” I said.
“No. But she’s the one wondering if she is.”
I didn’t answer.
Raphina studied me for a beat, then sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to pry. I just thought you’d want to know she cares. Zara too, weirdly. Even if she roasts you for sport.”
I managed half a smile. “She barely knows me.”
“Doesn’t seem to stop her.”
He nodded toward the field. “You running or brooding in place today?”
I started walking. “You tell Zara I’m not brooding.”
“Too late. I already sent the crying emoji with the violin.”
“Traitor.”
***
I didn’t even knock. Just pushed open the door to Riley’s office.
“Let’s get this over with,” I muttered, dropping my bag beside the wall.
She blinked like I’d slapped her.
“Good afternoon to you, too.”
I pulled off the hoodie, jaw tight. “Sorry. It’s just… it’s been a morning.”
She walked toward me, clipboard in hand. “Same here. You ready to get started?”
I sat on the bench but didn’t move.
“Actually, no. I’m not.”
Her brows furrowed instantly. “Lucas…”
“I can’t do this today, Riley.” I felt my voice sharpen. “I just came to say I’m skipping.”
She folded her arms. “You’ve never skipped. What’s going on?”
Everything. Everything was going on.
I stood, raking my hand through my hair, trying to find the words that wouldn’t come out as shouting. “Sponsors are threatening to drop. My coach thinks I’m one more bad headline from retirement. And the press? They’ve turned my whole life into a circus.”
Her lips parted, but the anger was already rising in her too.
“You think I’m not dealing with fallout too?” she said, holding up a folded letter like it was Exhibit A. “People on the board want a statement. They think I’m sleeping with my subject.”
I froze. “What?”
She waved the paper, furious. “They think my research is compromised. That I’ve lost objectivity. That I’m not a professional anymore because of you.”
I stared at her. The rage behind her eyes. The crack in her voice. It hit me harder than any of the headlines.
“That’s insane,” I said quietly. “You’ve done nothing but fight for me.”
“And that’s exactly the problem, apparently,” she snapped.
I turned, pacing toward the far wall, jaw clenched. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“No, you just showed up in my life again and lit the whole thing on fire!”
Her voice cut through the air like a blade.
My fists curled. I spun back to face her. “I didn’t mean to mess up your perfect little research plan.”
Her eyes flared. “Don’t you dare—this isn’t just a plan, Lucas! This is my life’s work.”
My voice cracked as I shouted back, “Well maybe I’m not the only one under pressure!”
We stood there, chest to chest, not touching, but too close. Too full of everything we weren’t saying.
“But I’m not going to sit here and be poked and stretched like a science project today,” I said, breath ragged.
I grabbed my bag, threw the strap over my shoulder.
“Lucas—wait—”
Her voice wavered.
I paused at the door, one hand on the knob. I couldn’t look back. Not now.
“You’re the one who said this was just therapy, right?”
She nodded. Barely.
“Then let it be therapy,” I said. “And today? The patient’s not showing up.”
I shut the door behind me.
By the time I got back to my suite, the weight of what I’d just said was already clawing at my ribs.
I dropped the bag, paced like a caged animal. I hadn’t meant it. Not like that.
But the second she said they were questioning her ethics—her—something inside me cracked open.
They weren’t just coming after me anymore.
They were tearing her apart because she tried to do what was right. Because she gave a damn.
And I hated that I was the reason for it.