Page 106 of The Game

Have you seen what’s happened to Arty?

A photograph of a newspaper article lands in my phone:

DOWNHILL SKIER CHARGED WITH MONEY LAUNDERING

I guess he’s got bigger fish to fry than tormenting you, girl.

Oh God, no wonder he wanted money. I slide into my seat, pull up the newspaper website, and read the whole article. The implication is that it’s been going on for several years, but doesn’t seem to be connected to the tennisacademy. My skin crawls, but I can’t also help the tinge of relief creeping through my veins.

I stare out the window and watch the baggage handlers loading the hold. I’m still half expecting a couple of men to materialize at the front of the plane to slap handcuffs on me, or for an airline official to ask me to follow them back to the terminal, or for me to fall unexpectedly sick halfway across the Atlantic. But all that happens is another text appears on my phone as I’m staring at the flight attendant doing the security demonstration:

You know I can always bring you back, little one.

I close my eyes and offer up a silent prayer, and it’s not until I’m in a cab from JFK to NYU Langone that I’m convinced I’ve escaped.

Before I got on the plane, I spent most of the day texting Janus about Adam’s condition instead of concentrating on the tennis tournament. But that doesn’t prepare me for how my body swoops when I see Adam through the window in his hospital bed. His face is white, tawny lashes resting against his cheeks. I’m not really a crier. I’ve had so many injuries and lost so many important matches over the years that something inside me has settled into granite. You can’t be emotional when you have to fight tooth and nail for every point, every advantage, but in this moment my throat closes nonetheless. And as I gaze at Adam lying there, I know with a bone-deep conviction that he’s my person. There’s no one else I want. I want those evenings I keep thinking about with a desperation I’ve never felt before. It’s not sex or how cute he is; it’s him. Solid, loyal, everything I need. If he’ll even talk to me after this.

When I enter the room, Janus rises from where he’s sitting next to Adam’s bed alongside a guy with long dark hair and perhaps the most interesting set of tattoos I’ve ever seen—Fabian, I presume. Unfortunately, he’s scowling at me.

“I told you not to fucking go there!” is all he says in greeting, and Janus puts a hand on his forearm.

I step forward and take Adam’s pale hand where it’s resting against thebedclothes, trying to tamp down the nausea as guilt burns through me. “How is he?”

“Stable,” Janus says, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side, his warmth seeping into me. “I’m so pleased to see you, Anna. I was worried you wouldn’t get out of Russia.”

I turn toward him. “They wouldn’t do anything serious to a tennis star with a profile like mine. There would be too much publicity.”

Fabian lets out a low growl. “They could have done all sorts of stuff to you, Anna—rape, abuse, targeting members of your family. I can do lots of things from here that don’t involve putting you or anyone else in personal danger, and I …”

I hold up my hand to stop more words tumbling out of his mouth. “I know. I shouldn’t have gone there. I didn’t think they’d go as far as they did. I realized far too late that I was putting Adam in danger just by being associated with him.” I stare down at his gray face. “I can’t apologize enough. I’m …” My throat tightens unbearably again. Maybe I should be staying well away from him, but I had to come here,touch his hand. I rub my thumb over his skin.

Fabian’s still scowling but says, “Apology accepted.”

“They’ve looked at everything,” Janus says, glancing at his watch. “He’s been in a coma for eighteen maybe nineteen hours now. It’s all a wait-and-see game, and hoping his stats improve.”

“Oh God.” I sink into a chair by the bed and put my head in my hands.

Janus crouches down next to me and squeezes my knee. “The prognosis isn’t bad, Anna. He’s not getting worse, and he’s had more tests and examinations than you can shake a big stick at. Fabian’s other half, Kate, is a doctor, and she’s been here since it happened. He’s in good hands.”

When I headed here from the airport, all I wanted to do was reassure myself that Adam was still alive. Now that doesn’t seem like enough. What if he doesn’t recover? Or is permanently damaged somehow? How could I ever apologize to him enough?

A woman with blonde hair appears in the glass circle in the door, talking tosomeone over her shoulder. She smiles tightly as she enters the room.

“Hey, guys,” she says as her eyes meet mine, and she holds out her hand. “You’re Anna Talanova.”

“Yes, more’s the pity.” I grimace, but she tuts at me.

“I’m Kate Thurman. One of the doctors here and, unfortunately, also this guy’s other half.” She jerks her hand at Fabian.

“Any news?” Fabian says.

She tilts her head. “We’re wondering whether it might be insulin.”

“Insulin?” Janus says, looking over at Adam. “Is that bad?”

“It can be terrible if it’s administered in the right quantities. It will kill you quite fast if you get a sufficient dose.”

The room swims for a second. Kate leans forward and examines one of the machines. “The fact that he’s still alive means he wasn’t, for some reason or other, given enough to kill him.”

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