because her hero says it’s the right thing to do?” His lips quirked at the image of the two blondies bonding over the opportunity to save his soul. God help him.
“Actually, she told me to go to hell.”
“Really?” Dalton’s eyes popped open. He couldn’t imagine the Jessi he remembered saying anything like that, ever .
“Her vocabulary has expanded exponentially in the last eight years,” Sawyer said dryly.
“Well, Coach, it looks like you have your answer. There are plenty of butterflyers on your team, and plenty of people to coach them. Find someone else to help Pruitt. She doesn’t want it, and neither do I.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Jesus! Give it up already.”
“Dalton, you need this, damn it!”
“Um...thank you, Dr. Phil? Seriously, Sawyer—how many times do we have to go over this? I needed out of swimming. I got out, and I don’t want to go back. I’ve messed up here and there, and then picked myself up. You should be proud of me, not lecturing me. I’m a goddamn Hallmark story.”
“God. Be serious for once, okay?”
“I am. I’m not cut out for swimming.” It wasn’t just because of Jessi. Oh, she was one of the reasons he wouldn’t go near a competitive event again, but there was more to it than an old relationship gone bad.
“Why? Because you couldn’t beat me at the Olympics? Big fucking deal, Dalton. You beat me plenty at trials. Who cares if you didn’t win a gold medal? It was years ago.”
“Says the man who wears twenty of them.”
“It’s not quite twenty—”
“Don’t be an ass.” Dalton stood and put his hands on his hips. Head hanging, he glanced up at Sawyer. “For the last time, man, I had to get out. It was killing me. I didn’t know who I was anymore.” That last Olympics had broken him. He’d trained relentlessly for three and a half years just to finally beat Sawyer at the Olympic Games. He’d crushed every record at trials, only to have Sawyer win almost all of them back.
“Come on, man, you never knew who you were. You never had the chance. Besides, you were twenty-five. Who knows who they are at twenty-five?”
“You did.”
“Yeah, but I’m a phenom.”
Goddamn it. Dalton looked away, trying not to laugh. The man could always make him laugh when he didn’t want to.
Giving up, Dalton punched Sawyer playfully in the shoulder. God, he hated the bastard...and loved him. He’d never understood exactly why, but when he’d done his damnedest to kill himself on a country road, Sawyer had shown up at the hospital. It didn’t make sense, considering they’d hated each other for most of their lives. The politics of amateur sports made them bitter enemies. But in a way, Dalton supposed, they needed each other.
At first, he’d been pissed as hell to see Golden Boy’s face next to his hospital bed. Then, as the days went by and the asshole didn’t leave, he learned to like him...and eventually love him like a brother.
Problematically, as Dalton was beginning to learn, brothers had the annoying habit of attempting to blackmail the people they loved into doing things they didn’t want to. “All right. Other than wanting to drudge up old, painful, and embarrassing memories and experience rejection, why are you here? You had to know I wouldn’t say yes to this thing.”
“They’re doing an expo.”
Now that got Dalton’s attention.
“What? Who?”
“The U.S. Olympics. In honor of my new position as head coach, they’re doing an expo on my career, and focusing on our rivalry.”
Dalton stayed mute. It was supremely satisfying to see Sawyer squirm, but it didn’t come anywhere near to satiating the rage that was boiling up inside him.
“Say something, damn it.” Sawyer kicked the ground with his shoe, looking just as nervous as he should.
“No.”
“Dalton. Man, come on. Just listen—”
“How much of this was their idea, and how much of it was your plan—in your obscene tendency to think you know what is
“Actually, she told me to go to hell.”
“Really?” Dalton’s eyes popped open. He couldn’t imagine the Jessi he remembered saying anything like that, ever .
“Her vocabulary has expanded exponentially in the last eight years,” Sawyer said dryly.
“Well, Coach, it looks like you have your answer. There are plenty of butterflyers on your team, and plenty of people to coach them. Find someone else to help Pruitt. She doesn’t want it, and neither do I.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Jesus! Give it up already.”
“Dalton, you need this, damn it!”
“Um...thank you, Dr. Phil? Seriously, Sawyer—how many times do we have to go over this? I needed out of swimming. I got out, and I don’t want to go back. I’ve messed up here and there, and then picked myself up. You should be proud of me, not lecturing me. I’m a goddamn Hallmark story.”
“God. Be serious for once, okay?”
“I am. I’m not cut out for swimming.” It wasn’t just because of Jessi. Oh, she was one of the reasons he wouldn’t go near a competitive event again, but there was more to it than an old relationship gone bad.
“Why? Because you couldn’t beat me at the Olympics? Big fucking deal, Dalton. You beat me plenty at trials. Who cares if you didn’t win a gold medal? It was years ago.”
“Says the man who wears twenty of them.”
“It’s not quite twenty—”
“Don’t be an ass.” Dalton stood and put his hands on his hips. Head hanging, he glanced up at Sawyer. “For the last time, man, I had to get out. It was killing me. I didn’t know who I was anymore.” That last Olympics had broken him. He’d trained relentlessly for three and a half years just to finally beat Sawyer at the Olympic Games. He’d crushed every record at trials, only to have Sawyer win almost all of them back.
“Come on, man, you never knew who you were. You never had the chance. Besides, you were twenty-five. Who knows who they are at twenty-five?”
“You did.”
“Yeah, but I’m a phenom.”
Goddamn it. Dalton looked away, trying not to laugh. The man could always make him laugh when he didn’t want to.
Giving up, Dalton punched Sawyer playfully in the shoulder. God, he hated the bastard...and loved him. He’d never understood exactly why, but when he’d done his damnedest to kill himself on a country road, Sawyer had shown up at the hospital. It didn’t make sense, considering they’d hated each other for most of their lives. The politics of amateur sports made them bitter enemies. But in a way, Dalton supposed, they needed each other.
At first, he’d been pissed as hell to see Golden Boy’s face next to his hospital bed. Then, as the days went by and the asshole didn’t leave, he learned to like him...and eventually love him like a brother.
Problematically, as Dalton was beginning to learn, brothers had the annoying habit of attempting to blackmail the people they loved into doing things they didn’t want to. “All right. Other than wanting to drudge up old, painful, and embarrassing memories and experience rejection, why are you here? You had to know I wouldn’t say yes to this thing.”
“They’re doing an expo.”
Now that got Dalton’s attention.
“What? Who?”
“The U.S. Olympics. In honor of my new position as head coach, they’re doing an expo on my career, and focusing on our rivalry.”
Dalton stayed mute. It was supremely satisfying to see Sawyer squirm, but it didn’t come anywhere near to satiating the rage that was boiling up inside him.
“Say something, damn it.” Sawyer kicked the ground with his shoe, looking just as nervous as he should.
“No.”
“Dalton. Man, come on. Just listen—”
“How much of this was their idea, and how much of it was your plan—in your obscene tendency to think you know what is
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