Page 54 of Last Line of Defense

I feel an uncomfortable, heavy, suffocating knot settling in my stomach. And it’s not because of me—after all, I couldn’t care less what people say about my private life. It’s because of Clara. She’s the vulnerable one in this situation because I know full well that none of this would affect me the way it would affect her. After all, I’ve spent my whole life dealing with rumors about myself, but Clara has an impeccable career.

“Be careful,” Alba murmurs again, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder before standing up. “Because when something starts to become that obvious to the outside world, it stops belonging solely to the two of you.”

I don’t have time to answer her. The glass doors of the gym slide open, and Clara’s figure appears in my field of vision. My breath catches automatically, as if someone had cut off my oxygen supply.

She’s wearing the club’s official tracksuit, and her dark hair—still visibly damp from the shower—is pulled back into a low, tight ponytail that looks absolutely stunning on her. She walks with a firm stride as she reviews some medical reports on her tablet alongside one of the fitness trainers, with a completely professional, serious, and composed air. But then, as if she had a magnet drawing her toward me, she looks up and finds me on the floor, staring intently at her. I feel that immediate, violent, familiar flutter in my chest.

Clara must notice something strange in my expression because she furrows her brow ever so slightly, says something quickly to the trainer before parting ways with her, and heads straight toward me.

“Everything okay over here?” she asks with impeccable nonchalance in front of the rest of the girls, though her eyes betray a restrained concern that I can read instantly.

I swallow hard, feeling my throat go dry.

“Yeah, everything’s perfect.”

Alba shakes out her hands and slowly gets up from the mat next to me.

“Well, I’m going to let you two work and talk quietly about that knee,” she says, shooting me one last warning glance before turning around and walking away with the rest of the group.

Clara watches her go for a few seconds, analyzing the situation with that analytical mind of hers, and then turns her full attention back to me, taking a step forward.

“What happened, Alicia?” she insists, lowering her voice to a barely audible whisper.

I shake my head too quickly, trying to cover it up.

“Nothing, really. Just training stuff.”

She stares at me in absolute silence, with that intensity that always manages to draw out of me everything I try to keep bottled up inside.

“Alicia… don’t lie to me. I know you.”

Her voice drops just a notch, becoming strangely intimate, and I’m overcome by an absurd, overwhelming, and extremely dangerous urge to grab her hand, pull myself up from the mat, and drag her to some dark corner of the gym so we can talk alone. But the gym is packed with people: teammates gossiping, staff members swarming around, physical therapists… Eyes. Too many eyes fixed on me.

“Alba knows what happened last night,” I finally whisper, looking down at my sneakers so no one notices my lips trembling as I speak.

The physical change in Clara is immediate and drastic. Tension stiffens her shoulders in an instant, her jawline tightens as she clenches her teeth, and she crosses her arms, pressing the tablet firmly against her chest, using it as if it were a real shield against the world.

“What exactly does she know?” she asks, making a visible effort to keep her voice calm and maintain her professional composure.

“I don’t know,” I confess. I do know, actually, but admitting it out loud in front of her makes the whole situation seem even more real and dangerous. “Enough to put us in a bind, I suppose. She mentioned the pool and that damn echo of voices at night.”

Clara looks down for just a moment, fixing her gaze on the rubber floor, before exhaling slowly and heavily through her mouth.

“Shit. Damn it.”

Her reaction worries me far more than what Alba said. I know she’s afraid—afraid for our relationship, the consequences, her position at the club, my reputation, and everything in her life that could fall apart if this comes to light.

“Hey, she didn’t say anything serious or mean-spirited,” I add quickly, trying by any means necessary to lighten the mood and downplay the situation. “It was just a couple of hints. She warned us to be very careful—that’s all. She’s not going to go telling anyone about it.”

Clara runs a hand over the back of her neck, tousling the strands of hair that have escaped from her ponytail. It’s a nervous, intimate, vulnerable gesture that she almost never lets anyone at the club see in public.

“There are already more than enough insinuations in this locker room, Alicia. One misplaced word or an unfounded rumor, and everything spirals out of control.” Her eyes seek mine with an urgency that makes my heart sink. “Are you okay? Tell me the truth, please.”

I nod, though the lump in my throat is still there, tightening.

“I’m perfectly fine, Clara. But… what really worries me is that all this will affect you. You’re the team’s head physical therapist, the face of the medical staff. If this comes to light and the board starts making a fuss about the code of conduct…”

She takes another step forward, reducing our personal space to a minimum, defying the risk of prying eyes.