On top of everything else, I was punishing myself for how I’d treated Olivia, the ways I’d folded away when she reached for me. I kept thinking about the little lies of omission“I’m fine”that added up until I sounded like someone I didn’t even like. I told myself I didn’t want to drag my mess into her season but that excuse felt hollow in the dark.
But the truth was uglier: I didn’t open up because I was afraid. Afraid she’d see how badly I was spiraling. Afraid she’d think less of me.
I was sabotaging myself, feeding the doubts I’d tried so hard to bury. It was like I was tearing down everything I’d built, brick by brick, and I couldn’t stop.
She didn’t need someone busy setting fire to themselves. I thought keeping distance was protecting her, doing what was best for her. But lying awake at night, that excuse felt hollow. If anything, avoiding her, shutting her out, pretending I was fine…
It made me exactly what I didn’t want to become.
An asshole.
The door clicked open. Archer stepped in, suitcase still in hand, hair still a mess from the flight.
“You didn’t think I’d stay in Budapest when I heard you pulled out, did you?” he said, voice low but edged with something sharper.
“You flew in?”
“Straight from the airport,” he muttered, setting his bag against the wall. “Dad told me what happened.”
Bobby cleared his throat from the corner, already moving. “I’ll give you two a minute,” he said quietly, and slipped out before either of us could protest.
“I’m fine, Arch. Just… tired,” I said, sinking back against the pillows.
He dragged a chair closer, sat down, and gave me that look. “No, you’re not fine. You’re stubborn. Same as always. And I’m sick of watching you drive yourself into the ground because you’re too damn proud to admit you need help.”
I exhaled, frustration spilling out. “Because maybe I do need to keep pushing. Maybe that’s the only way. Everyone’s counting on me, the triathlon community, sponsors, Dad, Liv, the whole country and if I fail...”
“Alex.” His voice cracked sharply like a whip. “You’re doing it again. Putting the weight of the world on your back and then acting like collapsing is some kind of personal failure. And right now, you’re burning yourself alive just to keep other people warm.”
My throat tightened, words tangling. “I don’t know how to stop.”
He leaned forward, eyes locked with mine, the steady anchor I hated and needed all at once. “Then let us help you stop. That’s what families are for. That’s what Liv’s for. She’s not here to watch you crash and hide it behind a fake smile. She deserves the truth. You can’t keep her out of this.”
I flinched, the guilt landing heavy. “She doesn’t need more to worry about.”
“Yes, she does,” Archer shot back, voice firm. “Because she loves you, idiot. And because you’re not fooling her anyway. Twins know lies, you can’t even fool me, so what makes you think you can fool her?”
I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. “You’re so annoying.”
“And you’re so damn stubborn,” he fired back instantly. “But that’s why I’m here. To tell you what you don’t want to hear.”
He reached into his jacket then and held something out. A new phone.
“Dad wanted me to give you this,” he said. “Your phone was beyond saving.”
He paused, then added, softer, “He thought you’d want to call Olivia. Explain what happened. He knows she’s worried.”
I took the phone, but not right away. My fingers hesitated, like it might weigh more than it looked. Archer clocked it immediately. He always did.
“Just talk to her, Lex,” he said quietly. “So she can stop worrying about you.”
I nodded once, staring down at the blank screen. I stayed quiet, my chest aching, because for once I couldn’t argue with him.
•••••
Therapy wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. Sitting there, saying things out loud I’d rather keep locked in my chest, felt like peeling off armor with shaking hands. But Dad insisted, and deep down I knew he was right. He was watching me like a hawk now too, timing my sessions, making sure I didn’t sneak in extra mileage when no one was looking.
And Cassandra, of all people, had become another layer of protection. She’d catch me trying to tack on an extra rep in the pool, and she’d cut me off. Brutal honesty, zero tolerance for my bullshit. “You’re not going to win if you kill yourself in training,” she’d said once, arms crossed, daring me to argue but I didn’t.
