Prologue

PROLOGUE

FIVE WEEKS AGO

HARLOW

Being nervous isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with.

I’ve had swim meets riding on me, on my wins. I’ve raced against national title holding swimmers. Over the last three years, my team has relied on me to uphold my own title as one of the highest ranked collegiate female swimmers in the southeast. And each time I’ve found myself in those situations, I’ve never faltered or choked. I thrived. I rose to the occasion.

Every. Single. Time.

But right now? Right now I can’t say the same. I can’t find that fearless swimmer inside of me. My nerves are so far from under control. I would dare say my nerves are controlling me.

I tap my foot while I wait for my coach to come into his office. I sent an email this morning letting him know we needed to meet as soon as possible. The last thing he’s probably expecting on this early Sunday morning is his top swimmer waiting with her arm in a sling.

The door swings open, startling me. “Sutherland! What can I do for y?—”

Coach Bradford stops in his tracks and the exact moment I was dreading begins to unfold before my eyes. His face is hardening. His eyes are narrowing. He glances at the sling, then back at me before sighing and walking over to his own chair. It creaks as he sits and leans back, crossing his arms. I’ve never seen him like this—so distant, cold, reserved.

“Well,” he starts, then stops to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a large exhale. He meets my gaze again. “What the hell happened?”

“I had an accident,” I barely mutter out. I can feel heat rushing into my cheeks. My ears are starting to ring and my chest is tightening.

“You…had an accident,” he repeats, doing absolutely nothing to mask his skepticism.

“Yes. Last night. I was with some of the team at the Chi Kappa house and I fell.” My words are coming out robotic as guilt starts to consume me.

I know I didn’t do anything wrong by being at the fraternity house, but I still feel all the blame in the world crushing me right now. As long as we don’t appear on social media with alcohol, the athletic director said it’s fine if we go out or to some parties. I’m not an idiot either to think he doesn’t know about the party so there’s no point in trying to hide where I was.

I didn’t even want to go to the stupid fucking thing, but my best friend, Lennon, wouldn’t stop telling me that we couldn’t break tradition and skip it. The back to school block party happens every August before classes start, and because we’re seniors this year, she said it was a requirement . Clearly I should've gone with my gut and screwed tradition this time around.

“The student health center did an X-ray and it’s dislocated. They were able to put it back in place though.” I shiver, trying not to recall the clunk sound it made. “It’s minor. But I know this means I can’t swim. ” The last few words leave my lips with a small croak and my eyes begin to sting.

“Minor?” He laughs sarcastically. “Minor my…Tell me something, Sutherland?”

My heart starts to thump loudly in my chest as my worst nightmare comes to life and Coach Bradford asks the question I knew he probably would.

“Were you drinking?” He sits up, resting his hands on the desk.

“I was, but—” He cuts me off mid-sentence by holding up a hand.

“That’s enough. Make an appointment with the athletic trainer to be evaluated. I want you to get X-rays from our sports medicine department, and when I get the scans and notes from your appointments, I’ll email you a plan. I estimate you’ll be out for at least six to eight weeks. You’re lucky you didn’t need surgery.”

Just when I think it’s over and I can breathe, he hits the desk with his hands, causing me to flinch in my chair. He stands up and starts pacing around his cold, gray office. Seems it’s not the only thing that’s had the life sucked out of it today.

“What the hell were you thinking? You’re my top athlete, Sutherland! And your shoulder ? I know you understand as a swimmer how devastating a shoulder injury is.” Stopping in his tracks, he turns and faces me. I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me with such disappointment.

“Coach, c’mon. It’s not like I did it on purpose!” I want to fight back. I want to stand up for myself but as he narrows his eyes, likely thinking I’m just feeding him some bullshit I lose my courage. “I’m sorry, but if you’d just let me explain—” I’m interrupted yet again.

“I don’t need your excuses. I need you to not be injured.” Sitting back down and burying his face in his hands, he lets out a groan. Then he reaches for his phone and starts to make a call. Is he calling the dean? Am I going to get in trouble? I’m about to say something when he starts talking.

“Hey, Tom…Yeah, I’m good. Well, I could be better.” He shoots me a glare.

I could be better too, Coach.

I have no idea who Tom is or why he needed to be brought into this uncomfortable conversation but I guess it’s better than the alternatives.

“Yeah, well listen, Tom, I need a favor. I’ve got an injured swimmer here who’s going to be starting rehab and physical therapy in the next two weeks, hopefully. You have a time during the day when I could trouble you to reserve a lane for her? It’ll be a Monday through Friday schedule, likely for six weeks.”

More garbled words come from the other side of the phone. I don’t even realize I’m craning forward, trying to make out the conversation. But Coach does and shoots me another glare as he leans away from me.

Once the call ends, his demeanor shifts to calm and collected. Honestly, it might be even scarier than when he was upset.

“Well, Sutherland, it’s settled. You’ll be doing your practices at the campus rec center for the next six weeks, starting the first week of September.”

“Wait, what?!” I shoot out of the chair, raising my voice. “The rec center?”

Nodding his head, he motions for me to sit back down. I ignore his stupid gesture and step closer to his desk. “Why can’t I do my rehab and PT at the student athlete center?”

“ Why? Do you really need me to answer that?” The curtness in his voice is making my blood boil. I’ve swam for Coach Bradford since I started at Everson University as a freshman. Our relationship has always been great, but now he’s treating me like some transfer who just started this year. Then it hits me.

“You don’t want me with the team. You think my injury will cast a bad light on our program because I got hurt at a party. So, what, you’re banishing me to the rec center?” I scoff as the words leave my mouth.

“You’re lucky I don’t just end your final season right now. You are the standard. You set the bar for the rest of your teammates. And this situation here?” He uses his pointer finger to draw circles in the air around my sling. “This ‘accident’ is unacceptable. Look, Sutherland, I’m sorry you’re injured, but I expected better from you.”

There it is. The final blow that has me cowering away from his desk towards the door. Coach doesn’t try to stop me, but makes one more remark before I’m bursting out of his office into the hallway.

“Check in with Pierce Harding at the training center going forward. He’ll be your point of contact, getting messages from me to you, and vice versa. I need some time to rework the upcoming meets.” He shakes his head, turning to his computer and dismissing me.

I make it into the hallway before turning the corner, colliding with a trash can I desperately need. As I empty the contents of my stomach, tears burn my eyes. I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know what’s happening to me.

How in the hell am I supposed to survive the next six weeks?