Page 62 of Full Split

Pulling out a seat at the kitchen island, I offer Sid some water while I start the coffee maker.

“No thanks, I won’t be here that long. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you to talk about security at Worlds.”

“Security?”

“Yes. The venue has their own precautions, but I thought we should discuss if extra security measures need to be put in place. This trouble with Niles?—”

“The trouble has nothing to do with Niles,” I snap, sharper than I mean to. “It’s all Peter Trenton and the fucking drama-hungry press.”

Sid holds up his hands. “I know that. None of this is his fault. I just want to keep him safe.”

Letting out a long breath, I sit down and rub my eyes. “I’m sorry. All of this has the boys on edge, and me too.”

“I hate that this has become an issue. We have known Niles since he was little with Weston. I know he is like a son to you.”

I nearly choke and scramble for anything to say to negate that line of thinking.

Sid pauses. “Are you alright?”

“Define alright,” I say honestly. I just had the best night of my life, followed by the most amazing morning, and then I got dragged back down to earth by being reminded of just howfucked up my life is. How am I going to explain things if or when this comes out?

Sid sighs and nods understandably. He pats me on the shoulder, then wipes his hand on his pants. “I guess now I know why you didn’t answer my calls this morning. You must have been gone for a run or working out.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Right, well. Think about it. I can arrange to hire a security guard if we think?—”

“I doubt Peter Trenton will be at Worlds. And I won’t leave his side. Weston already guards the restroom when we’re gone.”

“Okay, I trust you to take good care of them both. Just let me know if anything happens and I will make some calls. I may have a bum leg, but I still have connections,” he says, sounding a bit like a mobster.

“Speaking of your leg, how did you get here?”Please tell me he didn’t drive with that boot on.

“Irina is waiting in the car for me.”

I give him an incredulous look and shuffle him towards the door. “You made your wife wait in the car?”

“Well, it’s a good thing I did. Look at you,” he says, gesturing to my overall condition. “You look like you went several rounds with a lover who wore you out,” he says, laughing. He must notice my discomfort, because he cuts his eyes towards my bedroom door and then back to me. His eyes widen.

“Right. Well, I will come for the last practice before you fly out.”

I wave at Irina when the door opens and Sid is hobbling down the short sidewalk to the driveway. Shaking my head, I shut the door and lock it for good measure.

Nowhere is safe from these lies. Nowhere.

CHAPTER 19

NILES

I should’ve expected the worst when Wyatt actually took his meds before the long flight. He hates the way they make him feel after he comes down, so he tries to avoid taking them. But with everything that’s been happening, the packed eight-hour flight, and travelling with a large portion of the USAG staff and teammates, he really didn’t have much of a choice. He’d end up getting sick on the plane and vomiting everywhere, not to mention the potential of a panic attack from the enclosed, pressurized death machine, as he calls it.

Weston and I basically made him take it. Weston rolled his eyes and called him a dumbass, and I blew him in the airport bathroom. Different tactics, positive results.

But now, halfway over the Atlantic, I’m dealing with the aftermath.

Wyatt Lincoln—stoic, guarded, responsible Wyatt Lincoln—has his arm slung lazily around my shoulders like we’re not wedged between his son and several of the USAG team trainers. His head tips against mine, his breath warm where it ghosts across my ear, and every few seconds he lets out this soft, content little hum that makes my whole body tense.

Weston keeps leaning forward and staring over at me like I’m the one behaving strangely. All I can do is shrug and try to push him off me.