A Sprint To His Heart (21 page)

Chapter 22

Exhausted from the flight back to Chicago, I sat in the airport terminal waiting for Kelsi to pick me up. Four days since I’d texted Piran about the US. Anti-doping hearing and still no response from him. Gripping my suitcase handle, I stared at the gum blobs stuck to the stained tile floor. Sort of like the Big Dipper constellation.

Leaning back in the plastic chair, I closed my eyes, trying to relax. If I managed to get through this day without a meltdown, it would be a miracle. The last few days I’d focused solely on riding my bike, burning off energy and channeling my frustration into my training.

I kept a low profile during group rides though. Had nothing to prove to the Lady Spinners anymore. When I told Kate I needed to go home for a few days—family emergency—before I’d meet up with Team Ibsy in Silesia, I thought Celeste would at least care enough to ask why I was leaving, but apparently, envy had a weird way of skewing a friendship.

My pocket buzzed, and I jerked upright before dragging my phone to my ear.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” my sister drawled, waving at me through the glass doors. “We can go anytime now.”

I laughed. “Sorry, guess I lost track of the time.”

With my suitcase in hand, I strode to the glass doors and an uncertain future in cycling.

On the highway, the traffic zipped past us. Irritated with my far-too-tentative sister clinging to the slow lane, I pointed to an easy opening. “Go there.”

“No,” she said, glancing in her side mirror. “Not enough room.”

I rolled my eyes. A semi could’ve slipped through there. “Okay, move over now.”

Kelsi shook her head. “Shut up and let me drive.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I turned my head and stared out the window again. After several miles, the unfamiliar terrain finally registered. “Hey, you missed the exit.”

“Nope. We’re heading downtown first.”

“Why?” I peered at her.

She shrugged. “Curiosity, I guess.”

I waited for her to explain, but with the heavy traffic, her concentration remained on driving. After twenty minutes, I realized we were nearing Piran’s apartment. Would he be there?

Kelsi pulled into the underground garage and parked, and I wiped my palms on my jeans. We took the stairs to the lobby, and I ran my fingers down the doorbell array. No name next to Piran’s apartment number. Just a blank tag.

My sister approached the desk manager. “Apartment nine-sixteen. Can you tell me—”

“You wish to see the apartment?” the man interrupted, glancing up from the newspaper he was reading.

“The apartment is vacant?” I asked, unable to keep the tremble from my voice.

The man apparently didn’t notice my shock. He nodded and retrieved a key from his pocket. “This unit has an exceptional view of the lake.”

I halted, breaking out in a cold sweat. The lake view. The beautiful wood floors.

“No thanks,” my sister said to the manager. She grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the stairs.

“Oh Kelsi,” I whispered in the stairwell. “I kept hoping he’d come back, but this is so . . .” I chewed my lower lip until it felt as raw as my heart did.

She hugged me. “I’m sorry, Bay, but it’s over with Piran. You need to move on. Get through this anti-doping hearing today, and then focus on your upcoming race in Europe.” Kelsi rubbed my back. “I know you love him, but he isn’t who you thought he was.”

I shivered, not wanting to believe my sister’s stark dismissal of the man I loved, but a nagging voice in the back of mind mocked me. Piran had kept secrets. He’d lied about being a prince. He’d lied about being engaged.

Stubbornly, I pushed the voice aside. I wasn’t ready to give up on him yet. Pathetic or just stupid? Probably a little of both.

But Kelsi was right about one thing—today was about surviving the doping hearing.

My moment of reckoning. In the hearing room, I walked past a sea of faces. Mom, Dad, Kelsi, Shannon, Nick, Coach Vinson, Mia, Jose. Others I didn’t know.

But no Piran.

Dad gave me a thumbs-up. Mom fiddled with her purse, her lips set in a thin line.

When I took my seat, a man from the US Anti-Doping Agency, sitting front and center, announced my name. Without even looking at me, he stated the agency had charged me with the use of an illicit substance during a sanctioned federation race.

The man called Mia to the front of the room. Strutting past me, she threw a glance over her shoulder, a smirk on her dark red lips.

I forced myself to breathe in and out my nose, trying to relax my clenched hands.

Mia took a seat at a small table next to the agency representative. He scribbled on a pad of paper. “Describe the events that led you to accuse Bailey Meyers of using an illicit substance.”

It was Mia?

I nearly choked. The cheating skeeze bag. She had some nerve accusing
me
of doping.

My nemesis crossed her legs and adjusted her skirt. “Before a race in Wisconsin, I saw Bailey buying dark Fae blood from Jose Arcañes.”

No, I didn’t!

Someone in the room coughed. The agency rep continued scribbling. “Did you witness Ms. Meyers inject the substance?”

Mia pursed her lips. “No. Her boyfriend confiscated the syringe.”

The rep lifted his head. “Is the boyfriend here?”

I glanced at the entry doors.
Come on, Piran. Please be here.

Mouth compressed, the rep tapped his pen against the pad of paper. After a few minutes, he began writing again. An ache lodged behind my breastbone. Had Piran abandoned me in my time of need? Was Kelsi right and my Guardian prince wasn’t the man I thought he was?

Or were his father’s henchmen keeping us apart? Guilt washed over me as I pictured Piran, isolated and miserable, tethered to Princess Chanel and paraded about like some captive monkey.

“Anything else?” the rep asked Mia.

“Yes,” she replied, smoothing her hair. “I had purchased five syringes from Jose that morning and tucked them in my bag, which I left in the team van.” She shrugged, clearly not bothered by the public admittance she doped. “After the women’s race, I saw Bailey enter the van. After she left, I checked my bag and a syringe was missing.”

Mia turned and glared at me, and I wanted to punch her right between her smug blue eyes. I never touched her damn bag.

“Thank you, Ms. Nordgren, you may return to your seat.” The man looked up. “Jose Arcañes, please come forward.”

Jose shuffled forward and sat down at the small table facing us. I noticed bruises on his cheek and jaw. He kept his gaze down.

“Mr. Arcañes, did Ms. Meyers purchase an illicit substance from you?”

I held my breath, waiting for his answer. Jose tucked his feet under the chair. Finally, he glanced at me, and his cheeks reddened.

“Mr. Arcañes?” the rep prompted.

“No,” Jose replied softly.

The rep cocked an eyebrow. Mia hissed.

“I’d planned to sell to her,” Jose said, tugging on his dress-shirt collar. “But I didn’t get the chance. That damn fairy boyfriend of hers stole my product.”

With a curt nod, the rep dismissed Jose and returned to his notes. Jose hobbled like an old man back to his seat. What the hell had happened to him?

“Don Vinson, please come forward.”

My former coach strode to the witness chair and sat down. He folded his arms across his chest, then lowered them to his lap.

“Mr. Vinson, did you ever witness Ms. Meyers in possession of an illicit substance?”

“Ah, not directly, but—”

“Did you ever witness Ms. Meyers remove a syringe from Ms. Nordgren’s team bag?”

Coach’s gaze darted. He cleared his throat. “No.”

“Did you request a urine or blood samples from Ms. Meyers for testing purposes after she won the Chicago women’s national road race?”

Coach shook his head.

The agency rep leaned back in his seat. “Mr. Vinson, when I first contacted you regarding the accusation against Ms. Meyers, you indicated your belief she was guilty.”

Coach rubbed his forehead, revealing a sweat-stained armpit.

“Do you have any evidence to bolster this belief?”

I clasped my knees together, rocking slightly. Coach had believed Mia?

Meeting my gaze for the first time since I’d arrived at the hearing, Coach thumped the sides of the witness chair as if struggling with a revelation he didn’t want to share. He cleared his throat again. “Bailey didn’t take Mia’s syringe from her team bag.”

“How do you know this?” the rep asked, eyes narrowing.

Coach Vinson let out a deep breath. “Because I took the syringe.”

“What?” Mia jumped to her feet. “Why?”

“Ms. Nordgren,” the rep said, rapidly tapping his pen. “Please sit down.”

“You need to understand,” Coach continued, ignoring Mia’s outburst. “I’m just a regional coach. Small potatoes. When Mia began dominating the women’s races, I thought the endorsements and offers would come rolling in.” His expression turned rueful. “Didn’t happen. Anyway, after Jose was turned in for doping, I suspected Mia was using drugs. I found the syringes in her team bag and sent one to a lab for testing.”

“And?” the rep prodded when Coach Vinson fell silent.

“I kept the report to myself because I didn’t want to admit that Mia’s success had nothing to do with my coaching.” He stared at his feet.

Next to me, Kelsi clasped my hand and gave me an encouraging smile.

The doping rep laid his pen on his note pad. “What made you suspect Ms. Meyers?”

“Her win at the Chicago nationals. Sure she’d been steadily improving, but . . .” Coach rubbed the back of his neck. “After finding out about Mia, I wasn’t feeling too good about my leadership skills. Guess I chalked up Bailey’s success to doping as well.”

The agency rep leaned forward and planted his elbows on the table. “Based on the testimony presented in this hearing, I am concluding that there lacks sufficient evidence to continue pursuing a case against Ms. Bailey Meyers for the use of an illicit substance in a sanctioned race.”

He turned to me. “Ms. Meyers, the charges are hereby dropped.”

“Yes,” Kelsi squealed, thrusting her hands into the air.

“Thank God, kiddo,” Dad said, getting to his feet. He patted his stomach. “I’m starving. How about some pizza?”

“Todd!” my mother exclaimed. “Give Bailey a moment first.”

“That’s okay, Mom. I’m hungry too.” I grinned.

Shannon threw her arms around me and squeezed me tight. “So glad that’s over. Can I join your family for dinner?”

Laughing, I returned the hug. “That’d be great.”

Mom set her hand on Nick’s arm and smiled. “You too, young man.”

He threw me a questioning look.

“Of course,” I replied.

Winking, Mom elbowed me, and I rolled my eyes. She’d have me dating Nick in a heartbeat. “Sweetie,” she said. “Can you ride with Nick to the restaurant? Your father and I have an errand to run first.”

“Uh, sure, I guess.” I stood on the sidewalk as my parents hustled off to find their car.

“Your mom’s not too subtle,” Nick said with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No prob. I think it’s funny.” He opened the passenger-side door of his car.

I settled inside and buckled up. “Hey, thanks for coming to the doping hearing.”

“Hell, yeah,” he replied, starting the engine. “I was ready to testify on your behalf.” He turned to face me and cocked his head. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”

We pulled away from the curb, and I spotted Shannon on the sidewalk talking with Jose. Interesting. Were they back together?

Once at the restaurant, everyone kept asking me about Colorado and my upcoming race in Europe. Everyone except Shannon. Quiet, she kept checking her phone. Something was up. Why was she seeing Jose again? And why did he look like he’d been run over by a truck? I couldn’t wait to get her alone to find out.

When Nick finished eating, he leaned over. “Wanna see a movie later?”

“Um . . .” I glanced at Shannon, hoping to catch her eye, but she was texting. “Well, I should probably spend some time with my parents.”

“Pfft,” my mother said. “Don’t worry about us. You kids have fun.”

Nick arched an eyebrow at me, as if daring me to say no in front of my mom.

I turned to Kelsi. “You interested in seeing a movie?”

“Nah, I have an art project I need to work on tonight.”

A coy smile crept over her face, and I groaned inside. My family had a serious agenda. Now they all gaped at me with expectant expressions. Damn it. No way out.

I smiled at Nick. “Sure. Do you want to see anything in particular?”

“A new Transformers movie is playing.”

“Sounds good.” Better than good, actually. An action-packed movie meant no weird, awkward moments during love scenes on the screen.