Isaac walked into the Aquatics Center a few minutes later, an unholy racket echoed through the whole interior. “What the hell is that?” he asked Adam, who stood near the entrance of the locker room.
“They’re screwing the chairs into the stands.”
“Oh good God.”
“You stop noticing it after a while. I have your suits. USOC apologized about thirty-six times for the delay.”
Isaac grimaced. Officially sanctioned team swimsuits irked him. Usually they were state-of-the-art, so he shouldn’t have complained. But new racing suits were so… confining. Still, all kinds of ridiculous things could shave tenths of a second off his times, so he’d take whatever advantage he could get.
When he’d shown up at the Trials, he’d only been hoping to prove he could still swim well enough to make this team. But now that he was here, in the actual Olympic venue, he suddenly realized he wanted to win.
The competitive spirit still burned in him, it turned out. Clawing his way out from the bottle had been one of the greatest challenges of his life, and he’d been telling himself for weeks that he didn’t need to win. He just needed to prove to himself that he was still vital, that he could still do the thing he’d been training his body to do for more than two decades. Everyone in his life had been treating his making the Olympic team as a miracle. That he stood here in Madrid should have been enough.
But no, he needed to win. He’d gotten this far, hadn’t he? Why not push himself to be more, to be better?
Adam handed him a duffel bag. “Try the new suits. There are two of each style in there, plus the warm-up suit you have to wear during all broadcast races—which is all of them, basically. I do not care even a little which suit you wear as long as you’re comfortable. Lane Four is yours after you change. Luke’s got Lane Five.”
“Thanks.”
Isaac supposed official gear wasn’t so bad. He’d been seated behind a couple of synchronized swimmers on the plane, who had told him their official suits each had hundreds of Swarovski crystals sewn on. “That’s ridiculous,” Isaac had said. One of the gymnasts told him to shut up, but the other had nodded gravely.
He changed into a new suit and pulled on the waistband. It was snug, but not problematically so. He walked over to a mirror and examined himself. He’d had his whole body waxed the previous day, but he’d likely have to do some touch-up work before his first race.
He’d let his hair grow wild during his brief retirement. It had felt odd. Unnatural even.
He ran a hand over his smooth chest. He turned sideways in front of the mirror and admired his body. He didn’t look half-bad for a recovering alcoholic. He was thinner than he had been four years ago, and not as muscular. Sleeker, maybe. Adam had put him on a tough diet, making the legitimate argument that he no longer had the metabolism of a twenty-two-year-old.
Isaac walked back out to the pool. Adam made him do some warm-up stretches. He closed his eyes and listened to his body as he moved.
The thing was, he felt good. Better than he’d felt in a long time. Four years ago he’d shown up expecting to win, as if it was his due. He’d reigned as the best swimmer in the world. He had nine Olympic medals and twenty world championship medals. He was the most decorated swimmer since Michael Phelps. He’d walked into the previous Olympics expecting them to drape medals around his neck. And he’d won a silver medal in the 400-meter freestyle with almost zero prep. He’d swum the 4 x 100 relay with a hangover.
He’d been a cocky asshole. And he’d felt like shit the whole time, physically. Constantly nauseous and achy. Not to mention, everyone kept telling him it was over. He wasn’t as fast as he’d been at seventeen, at twenty-one. This would be his last Olympics. It was time to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life.
That was where his trouble began.
But now that trouble was behind him. He was here. He was in the best shape of his life. He was still swimming. He was sober. He felt good.
“Get in the water,” Adam said. “See how you feel.”
Isaac dove in and swam four laps without putting a lot of oomph into it, just to get used to the water temperature,