Page 61 of Crew Girl

Ryder shoved the lid on the box and put his coat on it, hackles up. “Rolling up at the end of practice. That’s a choice.”

“Dentist appointment,” Josh shot back in the same combative tone. “I cleared it with Coach.”

“I call bullshit. Which scout were you with? Princeton? Harvard?”

Josh’s eyebrows went up but his voice stayed even. “Dartmouth.” He put out his hand when Ryder took a step forward. “Take a chill pill, cuz. Like I said, I was at the dentist.”

Ryder clearly didn’t believe him, but thankfully decided against pounding the truth out of Josh. He stormed out, the guys following behind him.

“I’ll catch up with you outside,” Teagan said to Cam, flicking a thumb at Josh, who was strapping his feet into an erg.

She walked over to him, arms crossed, waiting for her explanation.

“Okay,” he said when it was clear she wasn’t going to move. “Let’s talk.”

“Yeah.” She nodded as if they were about to have an earnest discussion about calculating wind factor into scull speed. “You want to explain your sudden pivot from being friends?”

Josh’s smile flickered. “I thought that part was pretty clear.”

“And I thought we were going to let this go.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“What if you just made yourself do it anyway, Josh?”

“If I didn’t have a girlfriend, would that change things for you?”

“What? No! Why?”

Another crack appeared in the perfect veneer that was Josh Regis’s life. “… I don’t know if I’m supposed to be with Britney.”

Now, that was absurd. “C’mon. You’re perfect for each other.” She popped on a cheeky grin. “You’re both the worst people I know.”

She got an eye roll. Fair. A slump of his straight-as-an-arrow shoulder line followed. Was he… serious?

“I don’t even know what’s real in my life anymore.”

His blue eyes were a wash of confusion. This was not the Josh Regis she knew and loved to hate. “Hey.” She squatted down so she didn’t feel like she was lording it over him anymore. “What’s going on with you?”

“I…” He shook his head, decided against whatever it was he was about to say. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

She pushed herself back up. Why did she even bother? “Whatever’s happening in your life? Don’t use me as an excuse to run away from it. I’m not an option.” She made sure he got that. “If you want to break up with Britney? Don’t do it because of me. Do it for yourself. It’s your life, Josh.”

He huffed out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah. Right.”

“Hey!” This really wasn’t like him. “You have so much going for you, Josh. Before you throw it all away? Take a look at what you’re really willing to lose.”

She turned and left. She really needed a taco.

JOSH

Josh pressed out a fast two kilometers. A test.

He set the bar higher for the next round, felt the familiar twist of pain grip his chest, and stopped.

What was he trying to prove anyway? That he could drop dead like all the other promising young athletes whose careers had ended on a stretcher with a sheet over their head?

Whoever had given hypertrophic cardiomyopathy the nickname “Athlete’s Heart” had been a sick bastard. Because the condition threatened real athletes with sudden death.