Page 112 of Clean Point

I looked to the crowd, saw the box, found my mum and Jon watching us in anticipation. I knew if Dylan could’ve made it, she’d be up there too. I re-focused ahead, finding our opponents, shifting from foot to foot. Ready to pounce, ready to play, ready to win. They were fierce, and just as bloodthirsty for this trophy as we were. But we were not out, not yet. Everything was on the line for this, and I was ready to give my entire body and soul to this court to make it happen.

To take this from them because I fucking wanted it. We wanted this win, and I would not let it slip through our fingers.

Everything that had happened – Matteo, Nico’s knee, the last few years of my life – it had brought me back, full circle. Centre Court. Because this was where I belonged. Where we both belonged. My feet on this grass. This racket in my hand. Nico Kotas by my side.

I took a deep breath in, filling deep into my lungs, as I waited for a cool opposite breeze of wind to die down. I threw the ball high in the air, the rest of the moment a second instinct, my body knowing exactly what to do. All I had to do was trust it.

On my exhale, I unleashed my full power, rocketing the ball over the net. With that, the comeback had truly begun.

And this time, we didn’t fail.

48

Scottie

The Alchemy – Taylor Swift

A glass of champagne in one hand, a trophy in the other, and Nico Kotas’s arms wrapped around my waist. The July sunset with an explosion of pink and orange across a London skyline. I could barely remember a life before him. A lonely life falling out of clubs and burning down yachts and two hot men in red suits.

‘You doing okay?’ Nico broke the silence, his head nuzzled into my shoulder, a soft breeze blowing in the garden. We had been at my mum’s house, a small party to celebrate our win, and the end of another Wimbledon. Inside, the house was full of friends, both Nico’s and mine, the loud buzz of the party filled the evening air as we hid in the temporary escape.

‘I’m good.’ I turned in his arms, placing the champagne down on the table to free one hand up. The trophy was glued to me. But still, I pushed slightly up on my toes, my lips easily reaching his. ‘You taste like champagne.’

‘That might have something to do with all the Laurent-Perrier your mom has been serving all night.’ He grinned, his face barely pulled back from mine. I’d never seen his eyes so clear, so bright.

We have everything.

‘Are you going to put that trophy down anytime soon?’ His gaze dipped momentarily to the left, the piece of silverware still tucked safely under my arm.

I grinned wildly, hugging it tighter. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Afraid somebody’s going to steal it?’ The sound of his laugh warmed my blood.

I somehow managed to tear myself from him for a second, stealing a peek inside the kitchen at the packed crowd, loud music and conversation mixing in the air. ‘Dylan is just inside.’

It was easy to spot her, cornered by Inés, wearing her usual scowl, her arms folded. I couldn’t blame her. I hadn’t expected her to stop by. She’d lost yesterday, another final. I’d still be recovering, but it was a good surprise when Inés had shown up with her in tow.

‘It was nice of you to invite her,’ he hummed, his lips pressing against the right side of my forehead.

So much had changed in the last few days. Starting with a knock on my hotel door and ending with a press conference where we put everything on the line. The ITIA had announced it was investigating Matteo, and the other coaches that had faced similar allegations from fellow players who’d come forward since.

There was a weird ease that came with the news. I’d convinced myself for two years nobody would believe me, and now that it was happening, I hadn’t quite let myself trust it. Not just yet. But I wasn’t on edge, waiting to turn around a corner and run into him. He didn’t have that power anymore.

‘I have this weird feeling like we might be friends now,’ I admitted.

‘Is she aware?’

‘I like to call it trauma bonding.’ I met his gaze again. ‘You know, I couldn’t have done this without you.’

‘You mean, you couldn’t have won doubles without your mixed partner?’ he teased, his arms tightening around my waist, holding me close to his body.

‘You know what I mean.’ I rolled my eyes at him, only for a moment, before I was back on him. Nico, the grumpy player who’d refused to shake my hand the first time we’d met. Who’d played and trained with me on the court from sunrise to sunset. Who’d always had my back.

The one who had stolen my heart completely.

‘Are you two just going to spend the rest of the evening out here?’ I looked over Nico’s shoulder, finding my mum hanging out of the open patio door. ‘You’re missing all the canapés.’

I smiled back, grateful that she had been there with me every step of the way.

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