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“Are you coming over for dinner tonight?” I glance up at Bryce and he lets out a long sigh. “We’re having everyone over. Josie sent out a text.”

A quick glance at my phone confirms I did get a group message. Kat had already confirmed for both of them, Bryce made a stupid joke about already living there. Besides myself, Ronan was the only one who hadn’t answered. “Is Ronan going to be there?”

I know I’m not being fair to my friends by pushing them away in an effort to avoid Ronan, but what other choice do I have? The more we’re around one another, the greater the chance of the past coming up. I’ve kept it all quiet for this long; I’m not slipping up now.

He frowns at me. “You know he will.”

“Then you know I won’t be.”

“Are you going to make me tell your best friend, or can you be the one to disappoint her? Again.”

“Okay, ouch.” I frown. “But I’ll tell her.”

“This is getting old, Mia,” Bryce complains. “You need to find a way to let go of whatever happened. Both of you. He’s not going anywhere.”

“You know, I miss when you were still scared of me. ”

“I’m still scared shitless of you.” The admission makes me smile—at least I haven’t completely lost my edge. “But I’m also your friend and I know something happened. We all know it. The two of you got along, until you didn’t.”

Dread pools in the pit of my stomach. He’s calling out my lie, and he’s probably able to pinpoint exactly when the shift happened. I need to get away from this conversation. Mature, observant Bryce, is too good at figuring things out.

“You need to stop listening to your girlfriend, Bryce.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “Nothing dramatic happened. Things change. People change.”

But he’s not about to let it go. “What changed? Did he say or do something? If this is going to be a real probl—”

“It’s not a problem at all, Bryce. I’m capable of being professional around him.”

He’s not convinced. I can see it written all over his face. “I have no doubt about your professionalism, but I still think the two of you need to work this out. Whatever happened, communication is a two-way street.”

I bite back a sarcastic reply about therapy really working for him, because it’s a low blow.

Sarcasm has always been my shield—a way to hide my real feelings from the rest of the world—but I don’t need to project that onto Bryce.

Especially when he’s been working hard at things in his own life, and the life he shares with Josie.

I refuse to poke fun at that to protect myself from my own insecurities.

I pull my bag onto my shoulder, facing my friend. “We’ll figure it out. It just might take some time.”

He nods. “Just…let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course,” I assure him. “The same goes for you, you know? ”

I can see how uncomfortable the turn in the conversation has made him. A faint blush coats his cheeks and he’s refusing to look at me. “Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

There’s been something slightly off about him for a couple of weeks now.

Nothing that makes me worried about him and Josie, but he’s seemed lost in his own head.

If there was something to worry about, Carter would know.

And if Carter knew, I’d know. He has no problem calling Bryce out for being a dumbass.

So, for today, I continue to take pity on him. “I’m sure I’ll see you sometime this weekend. Have a good night, Bryce.”

“Yeah. You, too.”

On my way out, I stop by my office to grab the rest of my stuff.

In a true testament to our friendship, though, Josie and I have somehow managed to balance our different aesthetics and put together a cohesive space that works well for the small space.

It makes me smile every time I step through the door, like it’s real, tangible proof of our friendship.

It only takes me a couple of minutes to pack the rest of my stuff into my tote bag, but I quickly realize my water bottle is missing.

The last place I’d had it was on the pool deck while I was taking some photos.

Bryce had wanted to talk to me about marketing for an upcoming team fundraiser.

Somehow, that conversation moved to his office and turned into a full-blown meeting.

Apparently, I hadn’t remembered to grab the bottle.

I glance at the window overlooking the main pool and can barely make out Ronan, pacing the length of the pool while Emmie does a freestyle lap. Crap.

I don’t want to see Ronan right now. I’ve been doing my best to avoid him—especially since he got what he wanted and humbled me at the same time. I loathe his ability to do that .

For a moment, I consider leaving it there and getting it in the morning, but that would just make things worse. He knows it’s mine, the cute stickers done in the colors of the pan flag that cover it is a dead giveaway. If I don’t get it now, he’ll give me shit about it tomorrow.

It’d be ridiculous to endure his taunting about how I hate him so much I can’t get my water bottle. And, even worse, he’d be right.

With a groan, I gather the last of my things and trudge down the stairs. Ronan is sitting on the lowest bleacher now, elbows resting on his knees, stopwatch dangling from his neck, eyes trained on the water.

He barely glances away from his swimmer as he holds the water bottle out to me. I rapidly close the distance, taking it with a mumbled, “Thanks.” My eyes drift over to the pool, watching Emmie cover a couple of meters.

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.