Settling the Score (The Summer Games #1)(85)

She said it so calmly I nearly missed it the first time around.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Kinsley spoke up. “Her doctor didn’t clear her?”

Coach Decker finally glanced my way. “I spoke to him on the phone this morning and he thinks—

“That’s bullshit!” I said, standing up. “I’m ready to play.”

I hadn’t realized I’d yelled until Coach Decker narrowed her eyes. “Andie, calm down, or I’ll ask you to leave.”

Kinsley reached for my hand and squeezed it before she continued in a diplomatic tone. “What did he say exactly? Is it broken?

Coach Decker shook her head. “It’s sprained.”

Becca groaned. “Are you kidding me? I’ve played with sprained ankles more times than I can count.”

“Exactly!” I added. “Kerri Strug won gold in ’96 by vaulting on a sprained ankle. Tiger Woods played 91 holes and won the US Open on a broken leg and torn ACL.” (Clearly, I’d done my research over the last few days.) “My wrist is nothing.”

Coach Decker shot me a warning glare. “That’s neither here nor—”

“Please let me finish. Some goalie in Manchester named Trautmann finished a match with a freaking broken neck. I’m just trying to say that this isn’t the time to play it safe. I will do anything for this team…if it will have me.” Kinsley tugged my hand until I finally relented and sat back down beside her, then she spoke up.

“Andie’s right. This should be a team vote.”

My gut clenched. My team had pulled away from me the moment news about Freddie and I had spread. It wasn’t that they thought I was some home-wrecking whore, they just hated the negative attention my relationship with Freddie was bringing to the team. As if to nail home my doubt, I glanced down to Michelle to gauge her reaction, and she glanced away, too embarrassed to even make eye contact. Yeah, great idea, Kinsley. Let’s put it to a vote.

Liam stepped forward. “I think a vote is a good idea. I think they have a right to decide who’s defending their goal.”

Coach Decker shook her head, but Kinsley stood and cut her off. “It’s nothing against you, Erin. You carried this team through the 2000s, but Andie was named starter for a reason, and injury or not, we’re a better team with her in the net. She’s worked her ass off to rehab her wrist. She’s been at every practice and every team meeting. She knows Japan backward and forward. She’s as prepared as any of us to take the field tomorrow. Now, set aside the bullshit you guys have heard the past few days and remember that Andie is one of our own. She’s our last line of defense and she’s the person I want walking onto that field beside me tomorrow. Raise your hand if you agree.”

Kinsley raised her hand and Becca followed right after her. I braced myself for the worst and prepared to handle yet another defeat. They had every right to keep their hands tucked by their sides. After all, the doctor hadn’t even cleared me.

For those first few seconds after Kinsley and Becca raised their hands, no one moved. There were heavy breaths and cleared throats, but not a single one of my teammates raised their hands for me. For all my passion, I knew that if my teammates didn’t want me on the field, then I wouldn’t play. That was it.

Erin stood up and walked over to me, and for a second I feared she was going to laugh and tell me to leave. To my surprise, she took my left hand and wordlessly raised it with her right. We only had 4 out of the 18 women on the roster, but Erin’s vote was obviously a game changer.

“I think Andie should play.” My heart dropped as my gaze flew to Michelle. She had her hand stretched in the air, straight and confident. When our eyes locked, she nodded. “Sprained wrist or not, you’re one of the best players we have.”

I swallowed down tears as Nina raised her hand beside her. “Yeah, I agree. Andie should play.”

Like slowly falling dominoes, every single teammate huddled in that circle raised their hands. One by one by one they all agreed that I should take the field with them the following day.

Becca nodded to Coach Decker. “I think that settles it, right?”





CHAPTER FORTY-SIX


Freddie




CAROLINE WAS MORE cunning and ruthless than I could have imagined. I had assumed she’d tried to rush the betrothal because she was anxious to get married before I changed my mind, but now it was clear she’d had everything planned from the start. Every single part of Caroline’s life was meticulously designed.

The drunken sex was part of her plan. The more I thought of it, the more my stomach twisted with the hazy memories. Had I been the one to invite her to my flat or had she suggested the idea? How could I have been so careless?

I wasn’t pushing all the blame onto her; I was merely learning to respect her devilry. She and my mother had timed the betrothal news so perfectly. By pushing it forward and announcing it to the world right before I left for Rio, they knew I’d be too distracted to give it my full attention.

I’d never agreed to marry Caroline Montague, but I’d never put a stop to it either. Now, if the paternity test came back with me as the father, there would be no getting rid of Caroline. She’d be completely untouchable.

I swam two races the same day the story of Caroline’s pregnancy broke. I woke up early, rode a bus to the Olympic stadium, and warmed up alone. I dove into the water and let it take me in like a security blanket.