A Sprint To His Heart (19 page)

Chapter 19

As if on autopilot, I staggered into my living room. Numbed didn’t even begin to describe my feelings. Curling into a ball on the couch, I slumped over and lay my head on the couch arm, tears wetting my cheeks. For a moment, I clutched my cell phone to my chest, then tossed it aside. No point in calling Piran and asking more questions.

Except all I had were questions. Why did he have to marry a princess? Would he really be able to get out of it or was he nothing more than a pawn in his father’s agenda?

A weight lodged in my chest . . . my mother’s words.
Do you honestly believe he’d marry you someday? You’re not Fae, much less a Guardian Fae.

And Piran was much more than a mere Guardian Fae. He was a prince. I wiped my nose against the back of my hand. And a prince needed a princess, not some barbaric American girl who lacked grace and elegance, who felt more comfortable charging down a hill after a competitor than wearing heels and a fancy dress. A girl who hadn’t even attended her high-school prom because there’d been a bike race that weekend.

A loud buzz jerked me from my pity-induced state, and I lurched onto my side and fell off the couch. Flopping on the living-room floor like a fish gasping for air, I greedily snatched up my phone.
Piran, tell me you’re not leaving. Please. Please. Please.

Coach Vinson. Disappointment settled over me like a heavy cloud, and I sank back against the couch. Finally, I thumbed the Answer key. “Hello?”

“Bailey,” he said. “Got your message. Listen, the doping investigation is standard procedure considering Mia had been caught doping around the same time you won the women’s nationals race in Chicago.”

I scowled. Stupid Mia. And stupid Jose with his stupid syringes of dark Fae blood. Had someone seen me that day by his team van and reported me?

“Should I should tell the director of the Lady Spinners about the investigation?”

Coach cleared his throat. “No. This is a preliminary investigation. You haven’t been formally charged. The U.S. Anti-Doping Agency hasn’t even scheduled a hearing.”

“Um . . . okay.” I chewed my lip.

He must have sensed my hesitation. “Don’t worry about the letter, Bailey.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t facing sanctions. My former coach’s words didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. There was something off about his voice. Something I couldn’t pinpoint. Was he just trying to pacify me or did he know something else?

Either way, I couldn’t deal with this doping investigation hanging over my head. Not when my nerves were fried just thinking about Piran with that party princess. Not to mention worrying about my parent’s jobs and my friendship with Nick.

And in four days, I was supposed to be on a plane to Colorado Springs.

During my remaining time in Evanston, I goofed off with Kelsi, hung out at the bike shop, and went for bike rides with Shannon.

And sometimes my smile even felt real.

When Mom found out how much it would cost to fly my bike to Colorado, she went berserk, so I sold my car to reimburse her for the airfare and moving expenses. Except now I had no way to get around.

The day before my flight, I asked Kelsi to take me shopping so I could buy a couple of inexpensive suitcases, considering the travel case I needed for my bike had cost me a fortune.

I still hadn’t told her about Piran’s arranged engagement to Princess Chanel. Something stopped me. Embarrassment. Completely irrational, since I had no reason to be embarrassed. It wasn’t as if Piran chose to leave me. But I didn’t want to say out loud that the man I loved would never be mine. Somehow, that made it too real, too final. Too over.

Except holding it all inside was killing me. I wished I could trust Nick with my feelings, but I couldn’t. Over the past few days, hanging out with him seemed just like old times. No weirdness between us. And I wanted to keep it that way. Leave Evanston with our friendship intact. Telling Nick about Piran’s engagement would only open a door I didn’t want opened.

That night, as Kelsi helped me pack, she sat on my bedroom floor, sorting through my shirts. “I love this one,” she said. “So sparkly and not you.”

I grabbed the shirt and tossed it back into the closet. “Part of a Halloween costume from when I was in high school.”

“Should have suspected that,” Kelsi said with a laugh. She retrieved the sparkly shirt and held it against her chest. “Hey, this would look great over my black mini dress.”

“Be my guest. Maybe you can wear it on your next date with Tolmin.”

Her expression changed, and a slight frown creased her mouth.

“You and Tolmin aren’t hot and heavy anymore?”

She shrugged and handed me another shirt to pack. “We were never serious.”

I wanted to smack my forehead. Of course Tolmin would have returned to Sava with Piran. I kept my thoughts to myself though. I had a feeling Kelsi felt more for Tolmin than she cared to admit.

We finished packing in silence.

Finally, I took one final scan of my bedroom. Remote-controlled helicopter, yes. Laptop, yes. Guitar clock? No. Pegasus poster, definitely not.

Piran’s painting glowed as if challenging me. Almost by instinct, I gripped the frame, needing a reminder of him, then stepped back, a lump forming in my throat.

Kelsi rummaged in my closet. “Where’s the canvas carrying case?”

I swallowed hard, unable to look at her.

“Bailey?”

My eyes closed.
Piran, why did you have to leave me?

My sister’s hand rubbed across my shoulder. “I know you’re going to miss him, Bay, but you’ll see him again on breaks, right?”

The muscles in my chest tightened. Why couldn’t I tell her the truth? Kelsi was more than a sister, she was my best friend. I always told her everything. Why would I let stupid shame come between us?

“He left me,” I said quietly.

“You broke up?”

“No. I mean, sort of.” My hands clenched of their own accord. “He returned to Sava.”

“Ohhh . . . I guess that explains why Tolmin hasn’t returned my texts. For how long?”

I exhaled deeply. “Doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean?” She took hold of my elbow and turned me around. Her eyes narrowed. “Bailey, what happened?”

“Piran’s father decided to marry him off to a Fae princess.”

Her grip on my arm tightened. “Seriously? Why?”

I eased out from beneath Kelsi’s razor-sharp fingernails before they punctured my skin. “Piran says there are Fae who have challenged his father’s leadership because of the King’s stance on human-Fae relations since the Revealing. So his father is making a point of having Piran marry a Fae princess, Chanel von Casimir.”

Kelsi whipped out her phone and brought up a picture of a platinum-blonde in a nearly see-through mesh dress. “This skank? Eww. STD alert.”

I laughed in spite of my mixed emotions. “Yes, the very one.” Fatigue catching up to me, I sat on my bed and rubbed my eyes. “But Piran doesn’t have a choice.” My words slurred slightly. “He’s a prince and has a duty to his country or realm or whatever they call it.”

“Enough talk.” Kelsi turned down my bed covers. “Come on, Bay, you need sleep. We have to leave . . .” She glanced at the clock on my desk and groaned. “In less than six hours.”

I crawled under the sheet, and she draped the coverlet over my shoulders.

“I love you, Kelsi,” I mumbled into my pillow. “You’re the best.”

Soft laughter drifted from my bedroom doorway. “Love you too.”

One last goodbye. Dad’s bear hug lifted me off the ground, his signature scent of Old Spice and coffee strangely comforting. Mom smoothed my hair while I reassured her I’d text her the moment the plane touched down in Colorado Springs. Kelsi slipped a beaded charm bracelet with a silver bicycle onto my wrist, and I choked up so much I started coughing. With a laugh, she patted my back then waved and climbed into the back seat of Dad’s car.

I stood and watched the Subaru exit the drop-off area before turning around. Glass doors zipped open, and I found my way to the gate.

Five in the morning. An ungodly time to be at the airport. Yawning, I stood in line, waiting for my suitcases and bike travel case to be tagged.

“Miss Bailey Meyers,” a man called from behind me.

The timber in his voice sent a chill through me even before I turned around to see unnaturally pale eyes in a thin face and white hair pulled back so tight, the Fae’s overly lifted eyebrows gave his expression a traumatized impression. Or maybe he really was afraid of me.

“Yes?” I replied tentatively.

He handed me an envelope then jerked back as if worried I’d give him some sort of disease. I slid open the flap and withdrew a note.

My sweet Bailey,

I love you more than anything in the world and I will do everything in my power to return to your side. Even these few days apart from you have tortured my soul. You possess my every waking thought. At night, I hear your voice in my dreams and touch your beautiful face.

But sadly, my father has been most stubborn in his insistence of my betrothal to Princess Chanel. He fears an uprising in our land among the Resistant. I believed I found an ally in my uncle, but after an argument with my father, my uncle left the Savan realm.

Under watchful eyes, I remain alone in my room, frustrated, yet determined to seek solutions to both my father’s problem and my own.

With deepest affection,

Prince Piran of Sava, son of Maribor, and most in awe of the amazing, beautiful, and talented Bailey Meyers

My cheeks dampening, I returned the letter to the envelope with trembling fingers. Something brushed against my hair.

“Bailey,” a familiar voice breathed in my ear.

My heart stopped.

Piran’s gorgeous face emerged through my haze of tears . . . the chiseled jaw, full lips, high cheekbones. And those ethereal eyes, flashing bright teal.

He grinned. “Miss me?”

I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. “How did you get here?”

“I slipped away from my keepers. I could not let you go to Colorado without saying goodbye.”

“What about the engagement? What about Princess Chanel and—”

“Shh,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “I still have a card up my leg.”

A giggle escaped between sniffs. “Up your sleeve.” I glanced at the note in my hand. “Who, or what, are the Resistant?”

“Guardians who wish for segregation. They have not been happy since the Revealing.” His expression tightened. Then he shook his head as if clearing his mind or deciding he couldn’t share more, and glanced over his shoulder. “I must return to Sava before they realize I am gone.”

I tried not to show my desperation and cling to his arms, but all I wanted was to drag him back to my bedroom and never let him go. “Will . . . will I ever see you again?”

A faint smile on his face, he brushed his fingers across my lips. “Yes, I promise.”

But deep down, I knew this wasn’t a promise he could make nor one I would force him to keep. After pressing a light kiss to my forehead, he turned and jogged toward the men’s bathroom. A pang of guilt twisted my heart. He’d hid from his father’s men and resorted to using illegal magic just to see me.

I covered my face with my hands. Oh, how I had corrupted my noble prince.

A tinge of laughter swirled in the air around me. Or maybe I just imagined it.

Gripping my luggage, I took a deep breath and headed toward the airport gate and my new beginning.

Chapter 20

In the Colorado airport lobby stood a woman with spiked red hair, holding up a sign with my name. I waved, and she trotted over. “There you are.” She held out her hand. “I’m Kate Wilcox, director of the Lady Spinners.”

Shaking her hand, I squelched a yelp from her overly firm grip. “Nice to meet you, Kate. Thanks so much for picking me up.” Noticing the buffness of her arms, I squared my shoulders. “Can’t wait to get on my bike and ride. I’m ready to attack some real hills.”

She gave me a knowing smile. “I appreciate your dedication, Bailey, but the elevation here in Colorado Springs is about ten times higher than in the Midwest. You’ll need at least a week of downtime to acclimate. We can’t have you suffering oxygen deprivation.”

A week of downtime?
Damn it. A week to do nothing but dwell on Piran and a relationship that hinged on a Fae king dealing with an anti-human fraction.

Right. No biggie.

Kate cocked a pierced eyebrow. “Are you feeling light-headed? Can’t seem to take a deep breath?”

“Yeah. I thought it was just the after-effects of flying.”

She patted me on the back. “You’ll adjust, and then you can start training, but slowly at first. Before you know it, you’ll be cross-training with the rest of us.”

“Um…cross-training?”

Kate flexed a formidable bicep. “Strength-training along with hiking and swimming. We even play basketball and football to help improve coordination and cardiovascular fitness.”

I managed a weak smile. “Sounds fun.”

She threw out a laugh. “You have a terrible poker face, Bailey. But don’t worry, we’ll be easy on you.” Her expression turned impish. “For the first few weeks, at least.”

“Gee, thanks,” I replied, although I laughed along with her. Oh man. What had I gotten myself into?

The director helped me retrieve my luggage from the airport carousel and we loaded up her van. After a half-hour drive over winding roads, we passed through wrought-iron gates. Stone pillars marked each side of a private drive.

“Welcome to Liverpool Ranch,” Kate announced.

When a cedar and stone mansion came into view, my jaw dropped. I would be living here? Crazy. The front porch alone was bigger than my entire house.

The director parked the van on a circular driveway in front of double wood doors. “Let’s go inside and I’ll introduce you to your roommate.”

She opened the van’s cargo doors, and a twenty-something guy with thick sideburns straight out of the seventies exited the house. “Need help?”

“Nope,” Kate replied, hoisting my bike case. She grinned at him. “But thanks.”

I grabbed the handle of my bigger suitcase and rolled it up the stone path. “Hi, I’m Bailey,” I said as he held open the door.

“Alex Contador.”

I did a double take, noting the familiar narrow chin and wide smile. “Contador? You’re not related to—”

“Nah.” He laughed. “Sometimes I tell cyclists that Alberto is my older brother just to see the expression on their faces.”

Bike case in hand, Kate strode past us. “Bailey,” she said over her shoulder, “your room is on the first floor, down the hall to the left. Hustle girl, there’s much to do.”

I said goodbye to Alex and followed my director down the hallway. Even considering the required downtime, I had a feeling my days here would not be slacking.

Kate veered around a doorway. “Here we are.” She eased my bike case inside the room. “Let’s see. Bathroom’s across the hall. Game room’s in the basement. And dinner’s at five. Don’t be late.”

I nodded, toying with the strap on my suitcase. So much to comprehend at once. Would I find a job? Would I fit in and make friends? Would I be a good enough rider?

“You’ll do fine,” the director said in response to my obvious fidgeting. “Get settled in and I’ll see you at dinner.”

The room contained two twin beds, one strewn with sweat clothes and gym shoes. The mess reminded me of Kelsi and something tugged inside me. I missed her already.

“Hiya,” said a deep voice behind me.

I turned, stifling a surprised yip. My roommate
was my height with caramel skin, freckles across her cheeks, and a cascade of dreads over her shoulders. I let out a breath of relief. From her voice, I thought I’d be rooming with a guy.

“I’m Celeste Green. You must be Bailey.” She looked me up and down, hands on her hips, before nodding in approval. “Finally, someone my size to share clothes with!”

I laughed and gestured to my luggage. “Be my guest.”

“I’ll help you put your stuff away,” she offered. “Don’t worry, there’s a ton of room in the closet.” She unzipped and opened my smaller suitcase. Her forehead creased, and her gaze shifted to meet mine. “Damn, girl. There are more bike parts in here than clothes.”

“Um, well . . .” I scratched the back of my neck. “I’m not really a girly girl.”

She grinned at me. “I am liking you already.”

Returning the grin, the knot of tension in my chest eased. Yes. I could do this. Make friends. Fit in. I was going to be okay.

Until Celeste found Piran’s painting.

I wanted to grab her hands and yell, “Leave it!”

But I stood motionless, as if paralyzed, while she unzipped the canvas case and removed the painting. The artwork came to life, and the wheels on my bike whirred, the wind blowing through my hair, my legs pumping up and down on the pedals.

Celeste held the painting’s frame gingerly, perhaps fearing it might turn her into stone. “Jesus,” she rasped. “I’ve only seen Fae art at a museum. Where’d you get this?”

My fingernails bit into my fisted palms. Somehow, telling her my Fae prince of a boyfriend had painted me smacked of arrogance . . . and rang hollow, since he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore.

“A friend,” I said quietly, biting down so hard on my bottom lip that I drew blood.

“Wait a minute,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Is this you?”

She turned to stare at me, and I shrugged. “It could be any rider.”

I grabbed the painting and shoved it back into the carrying case. I didn’t want to talk about the painting. Mostly, I didn’t want to talk about Piran. What was the point? He would never be mine. I tossed the canvas case into the closet. He never really was.

The view out the window caught my attention. Something about the stark brown and gray mountains in the distance spoke to me. Matched my mood. Those mountains would prepare me for racing in Europe. There lay my future, my destiny. Racer. Rider. Hill-climber. Winner.

“I love training here,” Celeste said over my shoulder.

My muscles tensed. No surprise she saw herself out there as well. She was not just my roommate, but my competitor as well. And from the growl in her voice, a tough competitor. I pressed my lips together. Good thing we rode for the same team.

While Celeste helped me put away my belongings, I caught her glancing again at the canvas case. I braced myself for more questions, but she seemed to sense the painting was off-limits. I opened the window and welcomed the cool breeze, trying to fill my shrunken lungs.

“Not used to the lack of oxygen, eh?”

I shook my head. “Kate says I have a week to wait before I can ride.”

“Most athletes acclimate soon enough. It might help to drink more water though.” She shrugged. “Some people never adjust to the high altitude.”

Arggh. I
sooo
did not want to hear that.

My roomy leaned against the doorframe. “Look, I’m gonna hit up the dining room before dinner and hang out with the other riders. You game?”

“Not yet. But I’ll see you at dinner, okay?” I pressed the heels of my palms into my temples, not sure whether to blame my developing headache on the high altitude or the stress from thinking about Piran. Probably both.

After the bedroom door closed, I dropped onto my bed and rummaged for a painkiller from my overnight bag, then slid my phone from my pocket and stared at the blank screen for a full minute. Heaviness built in my chest. With a sigh, I tossed the phone aside. Cell phone technology didn’t exactly extend into Fae realms. What did I expect—he’d sneak away to call me? Pathetic.

I closed my eyes and sank into my pillow for a few minutes of rest . . . just a few minutes. Until I awoke with a start and checked the time. Damn it.

Late for dinner, I rushed into the dining room table and threw myself onto a chair, knocking silverware onto the floor in the process. I pretended not to hear the laughter around me as I picked up my knife and fork.

The oversized plate dwarfed the small portion of salmon and spray of asparagus and carrots. This was it? Sighing, I poked at the salmon. My nose wrinkled. I hated the way fish smelled. I ate the asparagus and carrots, but since the veggies barely made a dent in my hunger, I forced a bite of salmon between my teeth.

Then I noticed the serving bowl of spaghetti and a basket of rolls. Now we were talking.

Kate snatched the basket of rolls from my hand and set it down. “No carbs unless you’re actively racing or training. “We need to work on sliming you down, Bailey. You can’t race in the mountains carrying that extra weight.”

Extra weight?

Holy hell. Did the director just call me fat with a capital F in front of everyone? My cheeks burning, I clenched my jaw to keep the last bite of my paltry dinner from dribbling out my mouth, while Kate continued to blather on about food choices and optimal nutrition.

Trying not to gag on the salmon now stuck in my throat, I wanted to run off to my room and bawl my eyes out. But I refused to give in to my bruised ego. No way would I start my training here a wimp.

After swallowing the fish and hoping the lump wasn’t a bone, I raised my head and met my director’s steely gaze head-on. I even managed to plaster a smile on my face as I forked off another bite of salmon. “Are there any more veggies? The asparagus was particularly good.”

Celeste rose from her chair and headed into the kitchen. She returned with a grill pan. “Anybody else want more?”

No one else seemed interested. Yay, more asparagus for me. I scraped the olive green spears onto my plate. My pee tomorrow would stink, a small price to pay for not starving.

Kate leaned back in her seat and studied me with an arched brow, but this time I kept my cool. Did she expect me to argue about her plan to turn me into a lean, mean, racing machine? Nuh-uh. The Lady Spinners were my ticket to the pros and if losing ten pounds would give me the needed edge, I could forego junk food. I mean, how hard could that be?

A lot harder than I thought.

That night in bed, I tossed and turned, my stomach growling. What I would have given right then for a slice of deep-dish pizza, a Chicago hot dog, or my mother’s chicken and rice casserole. I gripped my pillow as visions of chocolate cake danced before my eyes.

How many hours until breakfast?

I awoke to counting.
Seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-one . . .

Planked on the floor, Celeste was pumping her arms up and down. Nothing like a hundred push-ups to start the day. But she wasn’t done. Dip. Clap. Dip. Clap. Was this girl for real? I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling rafters as an ominous feeling wormed into my gut. This wasn’t a training team. This was a fucking boot camp.

Celeste sprung to her feet. Sheesh. Who had that much energy in the morning?

“Come on,” she said, pointing at me. “Get moving, girl.” A sheen of sweat on her skin highlighted her prominent muscles. “Good to get your blood pumping.”

I climbed out of bed and groped for the bedroom door, shaking my head. The only thing I wanted to pump was the handle on a toilet. After returning from the bathroom, I grabbed my shower bag, wanting hot water and hot coffee. In that order.

Celeste gestured to my shower bag. “You might want to hold off. Breakfast ends in five minutes.”

Without a second thought, I tossed the bag back onto my bed. I was so not missing breakfast.

“Wait!” She plucked her fingers through my hair. “There’s bed head, and then there’s just a hot mess.” She also tucked in the tag on my T-shirt.

“Thanks.” I gave her a sheepish grin before bolting for the dining room, skidding along the polished wood floor in my socks. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted down the hallway. My mouth watered and my stomach growled.

Reaching the dining room table, I spied a serving platter with two omelets oozing cheese and picked up a spatula, silently praising the egg gods for such delicious gooeyness.

Except another hand snatched my intended breakfast from beneath my plate.
Noooo!
I stared at the now empty serving platter, not knowing whether to cry or scream. Maybe both. Instead, I slumped into a chair.

Fixing me with a cold stare, the blonde thief slid both omelets onto one plate and passed it to another girl. What the hell? I munched on a couple pieces of bacon in silence. More and more, I was starting to think this place sucked.

“Here,” said a soft voice next to me.

A girl with long, black hair and waifish eyes sliced off half of her omelet. I’d already forgotten her name. Ally? Abby?

“I’m not very hungry,” she said, fiddling with a piece of toast.

“Are you sure?” I asked, dragging the offered half-omelet onto my dish. Was there some reason they didn’t make enough food here? Maybe Kate wanted us to fight for our rations. Toughen us up or something like on Survivor.

The waifish girl placed a hand over her mouth. “Excuse me. My stomach is doing somersaults. Has been for over a week.”

“Abby, maybe you should see a doctor,” someone said to her. “Could be stomach flu.”

“Or maybe you’re pregnant,” the nasty blonde said with a smirk.

Abby’s eyes widened. She gripped the table with white knuckles.

“Shut up, Natalie,” someone said to the blonde. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

“I’m gonna lie down,” Abby said, pushing her chair away from the table. She slid her plate with her untouched breakfast toward me. “You can have the rest.” After a moment’s hesitation, she leaned over my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Be careful.”