Page 30
Story: Yesterday I Cared
A frown pulls at my lips. “Her elbow should be higher.” The words come tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them. Instantly, I want to take them back. I’m not her coach, and freestyle has never been my specialty.
“Thanks for the tip, but I think I know what I’m doing.”
The apology dies on my lips. “Right, of course you do. The Olympian who ran away when he got caught doping, such a good role model for her.”
His gaze snaps up to meet mine with narrowed eyes. “Is that really what you think happened?”
Of course I don’t. I didn’t believe it then, and I don’t believe it now. When no one wants to tell you the truth, what other choice do you have?
I shrug. “It’s what everyone was saying.”
“Didn’t think you listened to everyone.”
The dismissiveness of his tone—the way he sounds utterly disappointed in me—hits me with a force so chill, I want to hide from it. I refuse to do that, though. “Well, what am I supposed to think when you fall off the face of the earth and rumors are all I have to go off of?”
He’s as quick with his comeback. “You could have asked Bryce, or, you know, texted me? Remember, I wasn’t the one who stopped talking first, Mia. You were mad at me long before this happened.”
I groan, ready to stomp my foot like a child. “You know what, Ronan? Forget it. I’m not getting into this with you right now.”
I’d only taken about four steps away when he spoke again. “I was in an accident.”
I stop mid-step, frozen in time as the words sink in.Accident. Why hadn’t Bryce or Carter told me?
Right, because I never gave them the chance.
I turn to face him. His gaze is still locked on Emmie, but he keeps talking. “I denied the drug test because I already knew I wasn’t going to come back from this.”
He stretches out his right leg, slowly. Little things I’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks start to add up in my mind. The evenings when his movements have been a little stiffer, or the times he’d need to sit for a bit, and the way I often caught him doing stretches in the middle of the day. Chronic pain from an injury he got from an accident.
How have I not noticed before now?
I bite back the sob that’s caught in my throat, finding it hard to wrap my mind around how horrible I’ve been. “What happened?”
His shrug is casual, so flippant. “I was at a party, had too much to drink. I did the right thing and got an Uber. The guy who ran the red light going almost seventy in a thirty-five didn’t make the right decision, though.”
The slight sob escapes. Ronan doesn’t pull his gaze from the pool. “Ronan—”
“The drunk driver walked away with only a broken arm and a concussion,” he continues, a haunted shadow filling his features. “The driver of the car I was in died on impact. I was in pretty bad shape, too.”
Visions of Ronan lying in a hospital bed, looking smaller than I’ve ever seen this man look, flashed through my mind. I hate them. I want to banish them all from my thoughts, but something tells me I’ll never be able to. Not now; not after everything.
“I was still on pretty heavy pain medications when the drug test came up. I knew I wouldn’t pass it. I also knew I’d never get back in the pool the same way, so I announced my retirement.”
It doesn’t make sense, though. Why he let all those rumors fly, why he let so many people think he was leaving behind the sport he loves because he was doping.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The question stumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it. “We defended you until your silence became too much.”
He’s quiet for a couple of seconds. I instantly hate the way that question sounded as it came out. When he finally looks at me, there’s so much sadness in his eyes that my heart clenches yet again. “Why would I tell you, Mia? You’d already decided I wasn’t worth your time. I never asked you to defend me—you could have gone with the story everyone else was using.”
A frustrated sigh comes out. “Because, Ronan, you didn’t deserve to go out like that!”
“Yet I deserved to be completely ignored and cast aside without an explanation.” A harsh sting races down my spine; the words hitting me with a force I didn’t know was possible. “I knew what I was doing, Mia.”
Swallowing back my tears, I take a tentative step toward him. “Ronan, I’m—”
He holds up his hand. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Mia. The past is the past. Neither of us can change them, but I want you to remember, you don’t get to be the only victim here.”
Ronan is dismissing me.
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