the lift. Not paying them any attention. That would probably change if she gave him the dressing down that he one hundred percent deserved.
He dropped his bag onto the wooden hall floor with a thump. “Do you want to come in?” He opened the door a bit wider.
“Not really. But I probably should.” Her mouth was tight. As long as he had known her, Sabine had always had a laser focus on her goals. But a new toughness shimmered around her now, like invisible Kevlar.
Victor stepped back and opened the door wider, letting her pass him. “First door on the right.” He followed Sabine into his small living area.
She paused, casting her gaze across the Ikea furniture and complete lack of any attempt to make his mark. He knew what she was probably expecting. His medal from winning the Boat Race. Some photos or news articles celebrating what many would regard as his only life achievement. A few token family photos.
Guilt twisted his gut. He hadn’t spoken to Sabine in years. Hadn’t had any contact at all. He’d been stupid enough to think that even if Sabine got his letter, she’d prefer to leave the status quo alone. He’d been giddy on hope, believing maybe he deserved another chance.
And now his greatest mistake was standing in front of him, about to destroy everything he had tried to build over the last three years. Every attempt to prove he was different. He could feel it.
Step 9: “Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.”
He should never have sent the letter. Should have torn it up and burned it. Should have left Sabine alone. Should have known that contacting Sabine would injure her, just like he had a history of doing.
“Do you want a seat?” Victor gestured to his couch. “Some water?” He had hardly any food in the house, so he couldn’t offer her a snack. Not that she would accept it. She was in a peak training regime. Every calorie counted. Every carb and protein gram logged.
His knees almost gave out. She would be based in Caversham. With Peter. He hadn’t thought of that. She’d have seen his brother a lot. On the water. In the mess hall. The gym. Would probably see him almost every day between now and the end of the world champs. How could he have been so stupid as to send that letter now?
“No, thanks.” She shook her head, her blonde ponytail bouncing against her shoulders.
Okay, then. Victor shoved his hands into the pockets, walked further into the room. “I’m sorry if sending the letter was the wrong thing to do.”
Maybe he could salvage this. Maybe they could say whatever words needed to be said, and no one would have to know.
Peter would never forgive him. Never. This would wipe out the long list of grudges and misdeeds Peter had catalogued like a nuclear event.
“The wrong thing to do?” Sabine’s voice was tight. “It’s been years, Victor. What happened? Did you find it under your bed? Go, whoops! Forgot to post my Step Nine letter to my brother’s ex-girlfriend. Drop it in a postbox and tally ho! Maybe she won’t notice it’s over three years late.”
Victor stayed silent as her voice rose. She was both right and wrong. The truth was it had taken him months just to face writing the letter. He had written so many Step Nine letters in rehab he’d had to ask for extra paper. He couldn’t deliver most of them because he didn’t even have names to put to blurry hazy faces.
They had been easy to write.
Teammates that he’d let down. Harder.
His parents. Peter. Emelia. Even harder.
But Sabine? That had been impossible. Sleeping with his brother’s ex-girlfriend had been the lowest of the low. It didn’t matter that they’d already broken up. It didn’t matter that she was the one who had made the first move. It didn’t matter that they’d both had too much to drink. Standard for him, almost unheard of for her. None of it mattered.
“I’m sorry.” They were feeble words that didn’t come even close to the grievous wound he had caused. “I should have done it sooner.”
Her hands were clenched at her sides. If she took a swing, he’d take it. Heck, he’d get on his knees to give her a good shot if that was what she wanted.
“When I heard you were in rehab, I thought one of these might be coming. Every day