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My already overloaded brain tilts slightly as I try to make sense of what she’s saying. “Mom, I’ve been planning to quit swimming since freshman year. I just didn’t know how to break it to you. It has absolutely nothing to do with Lane.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She sniffs. “That boy is bad news. He always has been.”

“You know nothing about him!” The words come out way too loud, but it’s too late. Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “Lane is a great coach and a wonderful man. Whatever you think you know about him from your baseless snap judgment, you need to let it go.”

My mom arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow, completely unruffled by my outburst. “Wonderful?”

“Yes,” I say emphatically. “He’s kind, generous, funny, and loyal. And he loves me.”

I don’t mean to admit that, but I’m grasping at anything and everything to try and make her understand. He might have been fired from Franklin West, but he’s very much still in my life and she’s going to need to accept that.

“If he loved you,” she says, reaching out and taking hold of my elbow, her eyes filling with what looks like pity. “He would have thought twice before accepting money to walk out of your life.”

I tug out of her grip. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Language, Joy.” Mom tuts and reaches for my arm again. “Didn’t you wonder why he disappeared when he went off to college? Why you never heard from him again?”

The world stops. The noise of people chatting as they eat their meals in the building behind us. The soft music of the playlist I left running. The water from the fountain in the center of the common. My heart.

My words are little more than a whisper. “What did you do, Mom?”

“He was distracting you from swimming,” she says with a small shrug. “From reaching your full potential. I was worried you’d run off and follow him to Minnesota or something ridiculous. I could already see his progress slowing during his senior year. He was never cut out to be a professional swimmer. An Olympian.”

When I swallow, my throat is so dry it hurts. “I’m going to ask you again, Mom. What did you do?”

“I told him that if he walked out of your life and never contacted you again, I’d pay his college fees.” She lifts her shoulder as though what she’s saying is normal. “Lane was already in danger of losing his scholarship and I knew his family wouldn’t be able to afford where he wanted to go. He practically bit my hand off.”

My mom blurs, and when I blink, a tear falls. “No.”

“Yes,” she says softly, squeezing my arm. “What I didn’t count on was him worming his way back into your life after graduation. So, once again, I did what needed to be done. Hopefully, this time, he’ll get the message.”

My hand flies to my mouth, my stomach lurching, and I’m glad I haven’t eaten since breakfast as I swallow down the bitter bile. Shrugging out of her touch, I stare at her in disbelief, my mouth open with a million words I want to say, but none seem to find their way to my lips.

She’s the reason I’m losing Doug, and Lane—the reason I lost Lane in the first place. But he accepted. He chose to take her tainted money and break my heart.

My eyes burning and my jaw clenched tight, I turn and walk away. Not back toward Rosalind Hall, but toward the Hive. My car. Kicking off my heels and hiking up my dress, I break into a run, my mom’s shouts growing fainter with every furious stride. Lane is currently staking out Doug’s apartment and I have questions. So many fucking questions.

As I wince at the bite of gravel on my bare feet, however, I’m not sure any answer he can give me will be enough.

ALDO

When I arrive at Doug’s place, Lane is sitting in his car on the driveway, his head resting on the steering wheel, and when I park alongside him, he doesn’t move. My heart is heavy in my chest as I climb out and rap on his window briefly before opening his door.

“It’s not your fault,” I say, running my fingers through his disheveled blond hair before squeezing his shoulder.

He groans, tilting his head to look up at me. “It feels like it.”

“He was totally waiting for you to leave,” I reassure him. “You couldn’t have stayed here on an indefinite stakeout.”

Lane sighs and sits back in his seat. “Is this it, then? Do we give up on him now? I don’t want to, but this just isn’t fucking sustainable.”

“I know.” I exhale my own sigh and move around his silver Golf to sit in the passenger side.

“I can make rent ‘til the end of June, but then I’ll have to head back home.”

Lane’s words sink like stones in my gut. “Like hell you’re going to Montana. You’re coming to the City with me and Joy.”

He raises his eyebrows with a half-smile. “And what would I do in San Francisco? Be your rent boy?”

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