Page 64 of Clean Point

Nico’s brows furrowed, his arms crossing. ‘I won’t punch you.’

‘Just … tell us,’ I managed, despite a dry mouth.

Jon looked from Nico to me. One last hesitation in his voice before he delivered the blow. ‘Matteo is going to be at the competition.’

‘What?’ Nico snapped, standing up from his chair. His palms pressed into the marble surface, fingers spreading out. It was all I could focus on, the space right in front of me.

Jon paused monetarily, giving himself time to make sure that Nico wasn’t about to do something stupid. Again. ‘The rumour is that he’s attending as a coach. And my sources are pretty reliable.’

Nico swore, pacing across the kitchen, his hand rubbing at his face. I hadn’t heard the rest of their conversation, the words out of focus, a high-pitched noise drowning it all out. He was attending as a coach. My body had turned cold, my food turning into a brick in the pit of my stomach.

Finally, I managed a single question. ‘He’s been training somebody else?’

Jon nodded. ‘I didn’t expect it, either.’

‘I can’t believe he would show his face. He knows she’ll be there,’ Nico said, missing the point entirely.

I had known on some level that he’d try to crawl back. Tennis had been his world too after all. But what I had never predicted, stupid and self-centred as it was, was that he’d take somebody else on as a coach.

‘Do you know who?’ I asked.

‘No, I’ll try to find out more,’ Jon promised, his words weighing heavy on me. If I had told the truth of what Matteo had done instead of taking all the blame, this would be different. Revenge had been the only thing I had been concerned with, my judgement clouded by foolishness to think he’d never take on another person to train. Someone he could hurt like he hurt me.

I looked down at my bandaged hand, the pain across my palms burning like wildfire. He had been a loving father. I knew that. I had memories of that. He had been with me from the beginning of my career. We’d eat together, drill together, play together, train together. He’d smile at me, tell me that I could be the best in the sport, that we would do that together.

But when I got injured, maybe he got impatient, or his ego had been bruised one too many times. Or maybe I’d been too young and foolish to see how willing he was to break his daughter to keep his own legacy in tennis going.

But I should’ve seen he wouldn’t stop.

‘This is my fault.’

Nico’s head snapped to look at me, his eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘If I’d told people what he had done …’

Jon pulled out the chair next to me, softly placing a comforting hand on my shoulder as he shook his head. ‘There would always be somebody who would take him on.’

Nico took a step closer to the counter. ‘None of this is your fault, Scottie.’

I closed my eyes, trying to believe their words, trying to convince myself that whether I had spoken out, this all would’ve happened, anyway. Nobody would’ve believed me. They wouldn’t have listened. I had no proof, one witness at best. And despite years of being confident that would’ve been the case, I didn’t feel so sure anymore. Nico believed me. If he did … could everyone else?

I pushed up out of the chair, my thoughts overwhelming. ‘I need some air.’

They were silent for a moment, both sets of eyes assessing as I turned, walking around them to the double glass doors that led out into the garden.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ Jon asked.

I didn’t even turn, craving the fresh salt air of the beach. ‘Just find out who, if you can. And how long he’s been training them for.’

I watched the waves roll over the sand, listening to the seagulls, feeling the grit of the warm sand on the palm of my uninjured hand. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting out there, basking in the sun. He would be there. I would have to face him. And the entire world would watch. Would I have to play in front of him as well?

‘Scottie.’

I turned, and found Nico struggling up a dune, a grimace on his face as he battled the hard walk through the soft sand, his baseball cap backward on his head. I turned back to the waves as he sat down next to me, saying nothing else.

‘Did Jon send you out?’

‘He actually made me wait. Said you needed to be alone.’

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