Page 48 of Full Split (Forbidden Goals #8)

WYATT

Brianne insisted on having us for dinner the night before we travel to Indianapolis to visit the USAG headquarters. We have a meeting with the Board of Directors and the leadership team in the early afternoon. Our plane leaves at six-thirty in the morning.

“Good evening, Brianne. Thanks for having us,” I say as she answers the door.

“Hey Ms. P,” Weston says from behind me.

“Hello! Come on in. I’m surprised you even knocked.”

She’s right. That was weird. We’ve been going back and forth to each other’s houses so much over the years that we typically just knock and stick a head in the door to let them know it’s us.

“Guess I just have a lot going on in my mind.”

“Oh, I bet.”

Was that sarcasm? Much like Niles, Brianne has a wicked gleam in her eyes as she leads us to the kitchen. I keep a wary eye on her as we help get the table set and sit down for chicken parmesan served over zucchini noodles. It’s one of my favorite meals that she usually only makes on my birthday.

“What’s the occasion?”

“I just felt like you deserved something special for everything you’ve been doing for my son,” she replies.

“You’re such a good role model and mentor to Niles.

I hope you know how appreciative I am that my baby boy has such a strong male influence in his life.

” Her smile is wide and inviting, but her eyes are stone cold, and she maintains hard eye contact.

“You know, since his father walked out on him when he was so young, you’ve really been the only one he’s had to look up to. ”

“Mom…” Niles says in what sounds like a warning tone.

I feel sick. If I weren’t already positive that I’m headed straight to whatever hell exists, she’s confirmed it. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. What she deserves is for me to come clean, throw myself at her mercy, and hope she doesn’t send me there herself.

We speak at the same time.

“Brianne, I need to tell you?—”

“What are your intentions with my son?”

Oh, shit. She knows. She knows, and judging by the stony, unimpressed expression on her face, she’s known for a while.

Jesus, this woman is terrifying when she wants to be. That I’m still alive right now is honestly a miracle and a testament to her restraint.

Is it hot in here? I’m sweating. Why isn’t anyone else sweating?

I swallow deeply and give her the respect of looking her in the eye, even though the animal inside me wants to cower, roll over and show my soft underside.

“I love him,” I say, my voice reflecting the strength of my conviction, and not the shame and fear I feel.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not ashamed that I love him.

I’m ashamed that I wasn’t upfront and honest with you about my feelings, both as a parent and a friend.

It actually took a while for me to come to terms with it, and it’s because of the reservations you are no doubt feeling.

But I love him. I love him in a way I didn’t know I was capable of. ”

Niles’ hand slips into mine, and I feel the pressure of the small squeeze of support.

You’ve got this. I’m with you.

Brianne maintains her stony expression, and I realize I didn’t answer her question.

“My intentions with your son are to continue to love him for as long as he’ll have me.

To support, encourage, and grow with him no matter what obstacles.

To fight for and with him. To make sure he’s getting everything he needs out of life and love.

And to return the amount of love and acceptance that he’s shown me tenfold. ”

Brianne doesn’t say anything, but Niles’ hand tightens. When I turn my head to look at him, there are tears in his eyes. I lift our joined hands and kiss his knuckles, then look back at Brianne.

“I’m ready and willing to risk anything and everything to make sure Niles gets his fair chance with USAG.

I’m confident that what we’ll present to them tomorrow will ensure he won’t be unfairly punished for the harassment he’s endured.

But I do have a backup plan in the event it doesn’t go our way.

I have also permanently removed myself as an employee of Sid’s gym and stepped back from any official coaching positions. ”

Weston sucks in a breath. Niles drops his head.

Brianne holds my gaze for a long, heavy beat. And then she nods curtly.

“That’s nice. Fail to follow through on any of that, and I’ll bury you under the next new build my office brokers.”

“Mom!”

She snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, fine. I’m mostly giving you shit.”

I huff out a disbelieving breath. I’m not sure I’m ready to laugh about it just yet.

“I deserved that.”

“I’m not saying that I agree with the way things came about, or that either of you kept it a secret.

But if there’s one thing I trust, it’s that Niles knows himself and what he wants out of life.

If you’re the one he chooses, I’ll accept it.

And I know that you’re a good man. So I’ll give it my blessing. ”

She looks a little teary-eyed, and I want to reach out and hug her or squeeze her hand, but I’m not sure if we’re there yet. Instead, I just bow my head in thanks and look over at her son, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in affirmation.

We’re okay.

We walk into the USAG quarters as a group, ready for battle. Niles looks sharp in his suit and tie. Everyone does, actually. We came to make an impression, and the eleven of us here today certainly do that.

Now let’s just hope it’s enough.

I’m confident in our plan, but this will make or break the next chapter of Niles’ and Weston's lives. Nerves are catching up.

Ms. Worth walks with purpose, her strides long and sure, and the receptionist jumps up to escort us to the conference room without even asking who we are. She tells us to have a seat anywhere we like, and that the Directors will be right with us.

The room looks like it was designed to make people feel small. A long conference table, high ceilings, and walls painted a neutral color that feels cold and sterile. It’s clinical in a very corporate way.

As soon as the receptionist is gone, Ms. Worth instructs us to stay standing.

Each of us stands behind a chair along one side of the large conference table to wait.

We have a great group of people here today, including five of Weston and Niles’ teammates.

It was a genius move to have them here with us today, and we have signed statements from almost every other member of the team who were unable to be here today.

There are only three members of the team who wished to remain neutral .

There’s a phrase for remaining neutral when lines have been drawn, but now we know who their true friends are, and which teammates to avoid interacting with when possible.

Niles still has the vast majority of his team behind him.

I understand why the lawyer had us all remain standing together when the USAG team comes into the room.

We look like a united front. By remaining standing, we don’t look intimidated or give the impression that they hold the power.

There are just as many of them as there are of us.

And since they were probably only expecting three of us, I’m sure they thought they could intimidate us with their show of power.

Well played, Ms. Worth.

After exchanging some obligatory pleasantries, everyone takes a seat. The moment butts touch leather, the silence and chilly atmosphere intensify.

The full Board of Directors sits across from us, along with a handful of legal staff, and two members of the public relations team. Their expressions are unreadable, practiced. If I had to guess, they’ve already decided how this meeting is going to go.

But they haven’t met Millie Worth.

She sits confidently between Weston and Niles, her leather-bound portfolio closed neatly in front of her. I’m next to Weston, with Mik on my other side. Next to him is Vickie Cole and Brandon Isaacs. Sid is on the other side of Niles. Cody Jenkins, Rina Landry, and Shane Linz fill out his side.

Ms. Worth clears her throat. “Right, well, I’ll get started then.

Thank you for making time to meet with us today.

I understand we all have tight schedules, so I’ll be brief.

We’re here to ensure the fair and equal treatment of all members of your national team, most notably Niles Pruitt, your current highest scoring, gold medal gymnast.”

The woman at the center of the boardroom table, the current president of USAG, folds her hands on the table.

“And how is it that we can help Mr. Pruitt?”

She manages to balance a line of pretending to give a shit, while also remaining neutral enough to sound bored.

Ms. Worth doesn’t acknowledge her. She doesn’t thank her. She just nods and flips open her folder.

“There has been a significant breach of privacy and ethical conduct stemming from the circulation of a tabloid article about Mr. Pruitt?—”

“That has nothing to do with us,” a man from the public relations team cuts in.

Ms. Worth smiles blankly. “Yes, but in the days since the publication, neither the USAG nor its representatives have made a formal statement supporting your athlete. Instead, your response has been to distance USAG from him, which we find unacceptable.”

“We have done no such thing,” the president says cooly. “We’ve merely remained quiet while we conduct our own internal investigations.”

“Is that so?” Ms. Worth replies, just as cooly. “In that case, you’ll be able to explain why Mr. Pruitt and Mr. Lincoln were both absent from the most recent media conferences, especially considering they were some of your best-performing gymnasts at the World Championships last week.”

“We didn’t want rumors to overshadow the accomplishments of the national team.”

“I see,” Ms. Worth replies. “And how did that go for you?”