Page 73 of The Unfinished Line

How did her father not realize there was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep him as her coach? Whatever the cost, she was willing to pay the price. She’d already paid it, and she’d continue to pay it—whatever it took to win.

“You’re my daughter! And I know this person he’s turned you into—this person isn’t you! That man’s a monster—”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not the one who pushed me to train with him!” Her voice was hoarse with tears as she flung away the hand he reached to set on her shoulder, aware of Henrik watching from the window of his second-story bedroom.

“Dillon!” The despair in his voice crippled her. “I didn’t know!”

She kept her eyes on the river, on the freezing water she swam in every morning. Tomorrow, Henrik would make her life miserable.Swim to the light tower, he’d tell her.Again. Again.

But she couldn’t leave him. In her sixteen-year-old mind, she was certain she couldn’t do this without him. And her dad’s midnight intrusion was going to ruin everything.

“You’re just afraid I’ll achieve more with him than I ever did with you,” she snapped, whirling to shove past him. It was the cruelest thing she could think to say. The only thing she could think of to make him leave. “Stay away from me. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

And it was the last thing she ever said to him.

The minute hand on the vintage clock ticked forward and Dillon realized she’d been silent too long. Kam had slid from the arm of the couch to settle on the cushions, waiting for her to go on.

“To make a long story short, I cut off my family and stayed in Hamburg for three more years. For a while, my father wrote to me, but I never answered. I was afraid Henrik would find out. Then, when I made the Olympic team, he wrote to me again—telling me how proud he was, asking if he could meet me at the finish line. I told Henrik. Some idiotic part of me thought I could gain his approval. Iwantedto see my dad, but I knew I couldn’t do it without Henrik’s blessing. I don’t know why I ever thought things would change. Henrik told me to write back to him—to reiterate that I didn’t want him in my life. And so I did.”

Dillon forced herself to go on. “A week later, my dad hung himself in his study. On his desk they found my letter. He didn’t leave a note. Seren called me that evening. I quit Henrik and finally went home.”

Pulling out the dining room chair, she finally sat, looking over at Kam. “As I mentioned before, I still competed that summer. I didn’t know what else to do. My dad was dead. I no longer had a coach. My entire life was upside down. All I had was that race. Somehow, I felt like I owed it to my dad to run. My mam and Seren supported my decision. I’d gotten a lot of press because of my age and the qualification, but we’d managed to keep my dad’s death quiet. It wasn’t something I felt like I could deal with publicly at the time.

“So of course, a few days before my start, Henrik posted a notice on his training page, claiming it was his decision to part ways with me as an athlete. He stated that while he sympathized with my family for our heartache after my father’s suicide, he felt it best to end our partnership due to my ‘blurred conception of understanding between professional and personal boundaries.’ He went on to say that he wished me well in my future endeavors, and hoped I would take some time off to get the mental health help I needed.”

Dillon laughed, the sound strangled in her throat. “I didn’t even know about the post at the time. I was already in the seclusion of the Athletes’ Village and had kept myself sheltered from everything circulating online. It wasn’t until after the race, when a reporter in the media tent extended her condolences about the loss of my dad, that I knew his death had been made public.”

Taking another breath, Dillon continued. “I was actually relieved, despite the hurtfulness of his comments. I was just glad it was over. He’d gotten the last punch, I’d managed to finish my race, and I just wanted to go home and hide until it all blew over. But the hopes of that ended quickly. A few days after the Closing Ceremonies, a sports reporter asked Henrik if he regretted his decision to part professional ways with me after I’d put out such a solid performance in my Olympic debut. Surely, she said, I was a loss as his star student. Henrik didn’t miss a beat. He said,” Dillon paused, still able to hear his voice verbatim. “He said:If I had to deal with Dillon Sinclair for one more minute, I’d have killed myself, also. And for the second time in as many months, my life crumbled. The soundbite went viral—well beyond the sports community. Most people were outraged by his comment, but it didn’t stop the dialogue, or the fingers pointed in my direction. I was criticized for competing so shortly after my dad’s death. I was called a narcissist. A head case. I was accused of being aLolita. I felt like I was living in a glass house. I was already overwhelmed with guilt. Overwhelmed with grief. Overwhelmed with what I’d put my family through. I didn’t handle it well, being in the center of the media scrutiny—my life being dissected online by total strangers. I…” Again, she hesitated. It felt impossible to explain how her life felt like it was over at just nineteen years old. “It was a rough couple of years after he died. Seren, and my best mate, Sam, got me through it. And by the time Rio rolled around, things were better. I’drebuilt a relationship with my mam and sister. I’d established myself under a new coach and won my first professional World Triathlon Championship as an adult. For the first time in my life, I was head-over-heels in love, happy in a stable partnership. Everything finally seemed to be coming together.

“And then Kelsey and her team won the Euros. She’d always been a national team favorite, but suddenly she was a star—a household name throughout the country. People became interested in everything about her—onandoff the pitch. And therefore, started taking interest in me. They created fan accounts, YouTube compilations, wrote fan fiction—publishing it all on the football forums with the tag #eclair. I was suddenly, very reluctantly, back in the spotlight—worse than ever before. And it scared me. I didn’t want to go through that again. By the time England blazed into the World Cup semifinals, I couldn’t take it anymore. I called it off in the middle of her tournament. I hurt her—very unfairly.”

Releasing a long exhale, she looked away from Kameryn. “I’m only telling you all this because I didn’t know any other way to explain my reaction to your casting. I’m not making an excuse. I should have found a way to talk to you without leaving. And I know it doesn’t make things right—but it was worth it to me to fly here to apologize to you in person—even if you decide you’d rather not see me again.”

Kameryn was quiet. After a moment she stood and went to her window, peeking through the blinds. It was almost eleven. Cars were driving by blasting music and in the distance there were muffled explosions of fireworks.

“And if I do want to see you again?” Kam turned.

“I’d like that,” Dillon said simply.

“What happens if it gets as bad as it was with you and Kelsey?”

“This could be much worse than it ever was with Kelsey. I already know that.”

Kam leaned against the wall. “Then why come back?”

Dillon finally felt the glimmer of a smile. “Because I really like you, Kam-Kameryn. And I’d like to earn a second chance.”

Scene 27

When I started the year three hundred and sixty-five days earlier, I hadn’t expected to end it having sex on my dining room table.

At least not stone-cold sober.

Nor with a billion-dollar movie script serving as an impromptu pillow.

And definitely not with a woman.

But then again, I always had been a fan of third-act plot twists.

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