“I know. I've heard the lecture before.”
"It's different this time. I'm serious, Elliot," his dad said. "We can't afford rumours about Chris."
"What makes it so different?" Elliot asked.
“Jennings was clean,” he whispered. “No one believed it, not really.”
The anger building in Elliot’s gut boiled over. “They did. He lost sponsors, it set him back years.”
"So you understand what this could do to Chris."
"Because he isn't clean?" Elliot asked. His dad’s silence felt like confirmation. Confirmation that burned hot and painful, like the worst betrayal imaginable. "Because you let him run, take the spot I've worked for my whole life, on a lie?"
“That is not what happened.”
“Well then, explain it to me like I’m a fucking child, because you’ve been treating me like one. I made one mistake, years ago, and you’ve used it to control my whole life. But it hasn’t helped. My spot, which should have been guaranteed, has been handed off to your little pet prodigy, and whether he’s doping or notis almost irrelevant at this point, because you backed him over your own son.”
His father’s voice was quieter now, clipped, defensive but unsteady. “I…I wanted to make sure you stayed on track. You don’t understand. There are things in this sport, things I’ve… dealt with, that you’re not ready for.”
“I’m not a kid,” Elliot said firmly, leaning back against the sofa. “I’ve watched Chris. I’ve seen the inconsistencies, the spikes, the gaps. I can piece things together, and so can everyone else. You don’t get to hide from me anymore.”
Another pause, longer this time. Elliot’s heart was hammering with anticipation.
“Everything I’ve done has been to protect you, Elliot.”
“From what?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if he wanted a confession, denial, or silence.
“From me,” his father said, almost whispering. “I didn’t want you to… When my career ended. It wasn’t injury.”
“I know that,” Elliot snapped. “I know it was because of what happened with me and Andrew.”
“What?” His father sounded surprised. “No, Elliot. That wasn’t…” He broke off, swallowed. “I wasn’t…clean.”
Elliot blinked. “You… What?”
“I…I doped,” his father said, the words almost strangled. “They caught me. Quietly. No scandal. No headlines. We all knew my career was on its last legs anyway, and they, well, they let me keep the legacy I’d built.” He paused, his breathing laboured. “I thought if you never knew, you’d be safe. Focused. Not…distracted.”
Elliot felt a strange mix of clarity and disorientation. Every inconsistency, every guarded word, every obsessive check-in was being reframed in his mind. “So…all those years, all the guilt I carried,” he said slowly, “thinking I’d ruined your life or your career… None of it was about me at all.”
The line went silent. His father’s breathing was shallow. “I thought it was, but not like that,” he admitted. “I thought I was protecting you the only way I knew how. I didn’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
"You let me believe I let you down, that I owed you a legacy."
"Elliot, no. That was never…"
Elliot didn't wait for the excuse. He let the phone fall to his lap, his dad’s voice still audible through the speaker, but the words didn’t register as the truth settled in his mind. It wasn’t cathartic, but for the first time, he felt a shift. The rules, the secrets, the invisible leash his father had maintained were not absolute. It should have felt freeing, but it just made his heart clench harder. He shook himself and put the phone on speaker.
"So what's going on with Green?" he asked. "And I want the truth this time."
“I saw the pattern in Green before London,” his father said, "but I didn't know for sure. I don’t want him to throw his career down the drain like I did. He’s so young. Then, when you were injured and he had a shot at the Olympics, I spoke to him. I honestly thought he’d listened. That he’d heard me.”
Elliot froze. His next words were measured. “I think he may have, but it’s too little too late sometimes.” Elliot paused. “It’s too little too late for a lot of things.”
Chapter 23
Jackson
St. Moritz, Switzerland, 5 weeks to the Olympic Marathon
