Settling the Score (The Summer Games #1)(96)

The doctor knocked just as I’d slipped my phone back into my purse.

“Ms. Foster?” he asked as he strolled inside.

I took a deep breath. It was time to focus on something other than Freddie.





KINSLEY, BECCA, AND I spent three days in L.A. before we flew to New York to meet the rest of our team for a Good Morning America interview. We were scheduled for a week-long tour around the United States that I’d been looking forward to like a death sentence. Kinsley pushed me onto the plane in L.A. and once we landed, there were cars waiting outside the airport to whisk us directly to the studio. I needed sleep, a shower, and a decent meal, but there was no time.

Right before we went on air, Becca handed me two espresso shots.

“Because you literally look like death,” she said with a laugh.

I downed them like water and within a minute, I knew it’d been a mistake. I was already nervous enough to go on live TV. I didn’t want to talk about Freddie. I hadn’t responded to his text messages, though I’d read every single one.

...please don’t do this…

…give me time…

…just give me something here…

He still hadn’t gotten a handle on Caroline, which meant there was no reason to respond.

As the hosts announced us and we walked out onto the stage to patriotic music, I thought I’d have a heart attack. I took a seat beside Kinsley and tried to contain my nerves.

In the end, I thought I’d answered the questions normally, but Kinsley and Becca wouldn’t stop making fun of how jittery I’d been. I pulled off the fake eyelashes the makeup team had made me wear and scrubbed the makeup off my face.

“It’s Becca’s fault!” I said. “She gave me enough caffeine to kill me.”

Becca laughed. “Well you can thank me later. This week is going to be insane, so I suggest resting up and staying caffeinated.”

She wasn’t kidding.

After our interview with Good Morning America, we did a fan meet-and-greet. Immediately after that, we flew to Washington D.C. where, over the next few days, we were honored with a special dinner and a parade around the capital. I shook the President’s hand and tried not to say anything inappropriate or gushy to Michelle Obama.

During the parade, Kinsley leaned over and nudged me.

“Make sure to soak this all up while you can. These moments are once in a lifetime.”

I stared out over the crowd surroundings the streets. They were all waving small American flags, screaming and shouting as we drove by on top of a fire truck. There were little girls wearing jerseys with my number on them, crying as I tossed candy and necklaces with tiny soccer balls hanging off like charms. I soaked in the moment, trying to smile and wave at every fan who was there to support us, and yet all the while, a part of me was 6,299 miles away in Rio.

Every chance I got, I’d check my phone for messages from Freddie. I craved his messages as much as I hated them.

…I miss you…

…I’m off to London tomorrow and I’ll be meeting with my lawyers right away…





IT WAS FOUR days after I’d cut off communication that he called me. I was alone, in my shared hotel room, and I glanced down to find his name flashing across my phone’s screen. I knew it would only make matters worse if I answered it, and yet I couldn’t resist.

“Andie?” he answered in shock.

My name, spoken from his lips, was enough to make me tear up.

“Andie?” he asked again when I didn’t speak up.

“I’m here,” I said, hearing the sadness in my voice.

“I can’t believe I’m finally talking to you.”

I inhaled a shaky breath and tried to pull it together. I knew I only had a few minutes before Kinsley and Becca returned to our hotel with food from a diner down the street.

“How are you?” he asked, so desperately hopeful that I had to answer, even though I hated the small talk.

“I’m good. I watched your final race today,” I said, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. “Well, not live obviously. We were visiting one of the children’s hospitals in D.C. and they were playing the footage from a few days ago.”

“It was a good race,” he said; I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

There were so many questions I wanted to ask him. How’s London? How’s Georgie? How’s that sixth gold medal feel around your neck? Did you go to the closing ceremonies? Have you talked to Caroline? Have you thought about me as much as I’ve thought about you?

“Freddie, I—”

“Andie, hold on.” I could hear him talking to someone in the background, but I couldn’t tell who it was. “Give me a second,” he told the other person.

The hotel door opened with laughter as Kinsley and Becca entered the room, arms overflowing with takeout.

“I hope you’re hungry!” Kinsley said, dropping two to-go containers at the bottom of my queen bed before glancing up and realizing I was on the phone. “Oops!” she said, covering her mouth.

I shook my head and mouthed, “It’s fine,” before slipping into the bathroom and locking the door.

“Freddie, are you still ther—”

My question was cut off by his own statement. “Andie, I’ve got to run. I’ve got a meeting with my PR team in the morning and my lawyer wants to go over a few things.”