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Scene 42

“So, is this what turning thirty does to a girl?”

Through the orange haze of her polarized lens, Dillon caught a glimpse of the stars and stripes plastered across the side of Alecia Finch’s tri-suit. They were on the final lap of the bike leg, five of six hairpin turns executed, and less than two kilometers from the start of the run.

Dillon knew the breakaway group had been gaining on her. A cramp had threatened her calf over the past few kilometers, and when she’d risked a backward glance coming off the last 180° curve, she’d counted five cyclists pushing toward an attack. Alecia’d led the pack, but not by much, which meant the others were right behind her.

Elyna Laurent amongst them.

Dillon made the choice to let them catch her. She’d pulled off early as the solo leader, but with the headwind as brutal as it was, it was in her best interest to join the group and find some relief from the draft. She could retake the lead after the transition.

It was the strategy that had worked at the Olympic Qualifying race held the month prior. Elyna had caught her on the bike, but Dillon managed to wear her down by strategically surging during the run, breaking the Frenchwoman’s rhythm and outpacing her in the final kilometer. The massive win stampedDillon’s ticket to a guaranteed spot on Team GB in Los Angeles.

The rest of the season’s results varied. Early in the year, Dillon won Yokohama. Alecia ran away with Cagliari. A Spanish former middle-distance competitor pulled off a surprising gold in her hometown of Pontevedra. Elyna claimed Abu Dhabi—but only three-tenths of a second ahead of Dillon, Sam was constant to remind her.

Dillon didn’t need to win today. Nor was it crucial to podium. In the worst possible outcome, even a DNF wouldn’t change her qualification for the Olympic Games next summer.

It was the last race of the year. Any finish above fifth place earned her enough points to claim another world title.

But it wasn’t a world title Dillon was after.

For the first time in the history of the sport, the championship final was being held in Hamburg.

Dillon couldn’t stand the thought of losing to Henrik in the charming German city she’d come to loathe.A weakling, he had called her.An embarrassment.

As soon as she’d hit the once-familiar ice-cold water of the Elbe, she knew this was her chance to send Henrik a message: His turf, her turf, it didn’t matter. Elyna Laurent may have been fast, but Dillon Sinclair was faster.

“Don’t break a hip there, Grandma,” Georgina joined in the banter, pulling alongside Dillon as Alecia moved to the lead. The teasing about her age had started a couple months ago when she’d finally crossed the threshold into her thirties.

Entering the new decade hadn’t been as bad as Dillon expected, after dreading it for so many years. It helped that she was in the best shape of her life. At no point in her twenties had her form been as fit as it was this season. Apparently being set on a path for vengeance turned out to be a blessing.

Better even, however, had been the fact that she’d gotten to spend it with Kam, the two of them disappearing to thewhite sand beaches of Saint Barthélemy for the weekend. Since Christmas, they’d managed only stray nights in passing—Dillon always en route to race on yet another continent while Kam continued crossing the globe to finalize filming on the second installment ofSand Seekers. Which made the four uninterrupted days in Grady Dunn’s private beach house in the French Caribbean all the more amazing. Not to mention, the island getaway successfully deterred Sam from throwing Dillon the surprise party she’d been threatening.

So if this was truly Henrik’s so-calledtwilightof her career, she’d take it. Because in ten short months, she meant to come home with an Olympic gold—the only hardware she was missing.

“Thought I might share the view from the front since you haven’t seen it in a while,” she called to Georgina. “I don’t want to be accused of being greedy.”

The Englishwoman grinned beneath her mirrored sunglasses and flipped Dillon the bird as she followed behind Alecia, making a deliberate move to give Dillon relief from the westerly blowing in from the North Sea.

A few seconds later, Elyna nosed past without looking in her direction, followed by two Canadians and a Dutch rider.

Sitting on the rear of the group’s left flank, Dillon slowed her pace as they came to the turnaround going into the final kilometer of the cycle. The tarmac was damp—it having rained in Hamburg that morning—and the cyclists were forced to be careful. Dillon leaned her bike into the turn, keeping her body upright, and waited to pedal again until she exited wide off the apex. Ahead of her, Elyna began to make a move for the front.

Let them, she could hear Alistair’s startline reminder. The wind was strongest on this final stretch. Let Elyna burn herself out trying to break away.

The spectators were loud as they neared the transition. In Dillon’s peripheral, she saw a young woman dressed in the colors of Great Britain, waving a sign that saidSinclair Squared,with two gold medals drawn beneath it.

If her calf hadn’t still been cramping, the sign would have made her smile.

Sinclair Squared—she and Seren.

Seren, who punched her ticket to Los Angeles after a dream win at Badminton—a five-star horse trial considered by many to be the most prestigious equestrian event in the world.

Dillon had flown ten thousand miles to be there. She’d watched her sister’s flawless dressage test, followed by an intrepid cross-country run that put her in the top-five horse and rider pairs leading into the final round of stadium jumping.

On the third day, Dillon sat with their mother and Sam, holding her breath as she watched Épée fly around the arena, giving Seren everything she had. Thirteen fences in less than seventy-five seconds. On the final oxer, when it was evident Seren was going to jump clear within the allotted time—clenching the biggest five-star win of her career—Dillon launched over the arena wall, evading a pair of white-jacketed ring stewards, and ran to meet her sister.

The photo headlining the sports page ofThe Timesthe following day—aboveLiverpool’swin overManchester United—was of the two Sinclairs embracing, with Épée’s long, lean neck wrapped around them, searching Dillon’s back pocket for carrots.