message from my mom.
Mom: When Meemaw asked for a photo, she didn’t mean that kind of photo. (Is it too soon to joke?) I’m sorry, sweetie. This will all pass. We love you. Call me.
There were dozens more from her, but I dropped my phone on the table behind me just as I caught sight of someone walking into the training center out of the corner of my eye.
I glanced up and my breath caught in my throat. Freddie stood in the middle of the doorway, frozen and staring at me. His chocolate-brown hair was damp and a few strands had fallen down across his forehead. His eyes were a dark mixture of shame and desire. I got the two mixed up as he stepped closer, tugging the headphones from around his neck and dropping them on top of his workout bag. He was in his swimming clothes, the warm-up outfit that made him look even more the part of the powerful Olympian.
He stopped when he was right in front of me, but I pulled my gaze away from his eyes and focused on the center of his broad chest. I felt safe there, staring at that red, white, and blue jacket covering up his powerful body.
“Andie, look at me.”
I hadn’t expected the tears. Jesus, I’d cried all day. Couldn’t the world cut me a break at some point?
“Andie…”
He bent down to level his gaze with mine, and this time I didn’t look away. I let him see it all; the horrors of the day were written across my face, plain to see.
“I can’t do this, Freddie.”
He shook his head and reached out for me, but thought better of it and tucked his hands back by his sides. His full bottom lip was between his teeth. He was trying to think of a solution, but there was no way to fix this.
“Jesus, she’s probably watching us right now for all we know.”
Just the thought sent a shiver down my spine.
He raked his hand through his damp hair and stood back to his full height. “She’s not here. Only athletes are allowed to enter these facilities.”
“I’ve already made the mistake of underestimating her. I’m not doing it again.”
“I’m taking care of it, Andie. Just don’t give up on me.”
Too late.
“I was falling for you, Freddie, but I can’t do this. It’s not worth it. The stories paint you as a sexy playboy, juggling two girls and your Olympic dreams, but do you have any idea what I’ve been called today?”
He shook his head, wanting me to stop, but I didn’t.
“Whore…slut...bitch.” He inhaled a sharp breath listening to the words as they slipped off my tongue. “That’s just page one. I’ve heard it all, and not just from the media. I can’t walk out of my room without someone whispering behind my back.”
“Stop, Andie.”
Was it hard for him to stomach? Poor Freddie.
He reached forward to pull me off the table. I let him drag me out of the main training room and into a dim hallway before I stopped short and pulled out of his grasp.
“You know what, Freddie? I came to Rio to win gold, not hearts. You know best of all what the Olympic village is supposed to be like. I wanted to have fun and focus on soccer, but you pushed and you pushed and you pushed and I let you…” My gaze swept across his features, across the high cheekbones that had seduced me, across the jaw that had made my knees weak, across the eyes I’d assumed always told the truth. I could read him like an open book if only I stared into those dark eyes. I was breaking his heart.
He pushed open a door off the hallway and pulled me in after him. He flipped on the lights and I blinked as my eyes adjusted. He’d pulled me into a messy supply closet.
“I can’t let you leave, Andie. Not now…”
I let out an exhausted laugh.
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Freddie
I RAKED MY hands through my hair and spun around to look at Andie. The effects of the day were etched across her features. Her red, puffy eyes. Her splotchy cheeks and messy hair. She’d been through hell and back and now she was pulling away from me. Of course she was pulling away. She wanted her old life back, she wanted the stories and articles to disappear, but that wouldn’t happen. Leaving me wouldn’t make that happen.
I stepped forward and tilted her chin up.