“I came to see how you’re feeling. I’ve got a doctor on call if you need to get checked out. Apparently, two athletes tested positive for strep throat,” he added, and I could see the concern.
He wanted me to perform at my best. This sport was tough on a good day. But when you weren’t feeling well, it could be brutal.
“I’m feeling okay at the moment. I think I’m just going to go upstairs and rest for a little bit,” I said before hugging everyone goodbye as Coach walked with me to the elevators.
“I’m going to have the doctor come swab your throat just to be safe, all right? If it’s strep, we want to get you on antibiotics as quickly as possible,” he insisted as he pulled out his phone and texted someone who I assumed was the doctor.
“Okay. I’ll be in my room.”
I didn’t have a sore throat, and I didn’t think I had strep, but I wasn’t going to fight him on it, because he could be relentless when he wanted something done.
But I suddenly felt very anxious about taking the test that Jillian had gotten me. She sent me a text to let me know she’d tucked it in my backpack, as we’d agreed.
I got to the room and pulled it out, then quickly read the instructions.
I peed on the stick before pacing around in a circle nervously. I shoved the box in my backpack to hide it, just in case anyone came to our room while we were here. It was the longest three minutes of my life.
The timer on my phone went off and I read the results, and my chest tightened as I looked down at the stick in my hand.
A knock on the door startled me, and I quickly wrapped the stick in several layers of toilet paper and dropped it in the trash can.
I hurried to the door and let the doctor in to swab my throat.
But my mind was reeling as I sat in the chair and opened my mouth as wide as I could, while he ran a long Q-tip around the back of my throat in a circular motion.
I realized in that moment that my life had already changed.
I wasn’t the same girl who’d left for Rosewood River just a few months ago.
My future was finally starting to come into focus.
thirty-four
. . .
Axel
I’d stoodup for Easton today in a beautiful ceremony, and the entire time, I thought about Wren. I thought about our future. I thought about how I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.
I’d gotten a text from her after the dressage portion of the competition. She said it had gone okay, and she was sitting in fourth place after day one. I’d called her before I went into the reception, and she didn’t sound like herself. She said that Coach Sharky had been upset with her performance, and her father barely spoke to her after she’d put Wrax in the stall for the day. She was back in the room with Jillian, and she said she was going to try to rest up for tomorrow.
But something was off with Wren, and I felt uneasy about it.
“You look like you’re a million miles away. What’s going on?” Bridger asked as he pulled up a chair beside me at the table where I was sipping my beer.
“Everything’s fine. Great wedding. It was nice of you to let them throw their wedding here.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stop bullshitting me and tell me what’s going on,” he said, just as my brother walked over and sat on the other side of me.
“Yeah, something is off with you tonight. Have you heard from Wren? How’d she do on day one?” Archer asked.
I blew out a breath. “She’s been off. I don’t know what it is. She said today didn’t go great, but she’s sitting in fourth place, which is fucking amazing! But she’s got a coach and a dad who both ride her ass, and I just feel bad that I’m not there to support her, you know?”
“So go there,” Bridger said.
“Dude. We’re in the middle of Easton’s wedding.”
“Dude. They’re married,” Archer said. “Fly there tonight and you’ll be there for the last two days of her competition. If you think she needs you, then you should trust your gut.”
