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I swallowed hard. "Okay."
Dad pulled up a chair to my bedside. I glanced toward Sophia standing by herself near the window watching me.
"Aside from the dislocation, and some small cuts and scratches, you have a concussion." He clenched his eyes shut. "Adrianna, you will take the proper time to recover from that, which is around three to five days, and no sooner." Dad lowered his voice to a warning. "I will not take no for an answer."
"I'll take a few days for my head and elbow. I can't really miss more practice time than that."
I knew not to be too defiant when I was still very much in the wrong. I could work through pain, but a concussion was serious. I didn't have a death wish, despite everything.
Dad remained quiet for a long minute, which did nothing to ease the anxiety mounting in my veins. He exhaled a weary huff and leveled a stare at me that made my stomach twist.
"Adrianna," he said, and I knew what was coming next. "You'll be coming home with me."
I didn't respond.
"You'll get the proper rest and recovery there where I can watch over you."
I had no leg to stand on to defend my actions, but this wasn't just any situation where I was caught red-handed and had to pay the price. There were too many separate lives involved that could be ruined if one wrong thing was said. This was entirely different, and I was sure none of us knew what to do next.
"No, Dad, I'm not." His eyes rounded. I spoke low and slow, making sure I made my case clear despite my shaky voice. "I have the Olympic Trials in less than two weeks. I'm not going home. I'm staying here and I'm preparing for it. I didn't come this far just to walk away because of a little elbow issue."
He looked right through me. "I've already made arrangements to have the condo cleaned out and your car returned home. Once you’re discharged, you're coming back to Savannah with me. End of discussion."
My throat was tight, I could barely swallow. I'd resent him for the rest of my life if he made me go home now and forfeit a once-in-a-lifetime chance at the Olympic Games. My pulse was pounding so hard it was going to explode. I didn't have much to barter with, so I had to play my cards right. I couldn't let him take this away from me.
"Do you want me to have a personal bodyguard to watche over me and takes me to and from practice? Live with me? I'll do that. Anything you want. But I am staying here and I am going to practice." When he didn't say anything and continued to stare right through me, my jaw began to wobble in despair. "Can you please at least consider the consequences after this competition? We're talking about the Olympic Trials, Dad. Let that sink in for a second."
I began to feel frantic. There was an underlying tremble in the pads of my fingers. Didn't he understand how huge this was? That every single practice mattered?
Dad's silence simmered like little bubbles of tension in the air. He let out an unnerving huff. His eyes hardened, even though I saw the empathy in them.
"Imagine my shock when that— When he—" Dad’s body trembled. "When I learned you were pregnant. Then we get here and the doctor tells me you had a miscarriage and would need to have a procedure done." My cheeks flushed and I looked down in embarrassment. "Do you know they had to use some type of vacuum device to get the baby out?" He paused until I looked back up at him. "And you want to tell me what to do? That's not how it works in the real world, Adrianna."
I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the warm tears fall down my cheeks. My lips were firmly sealed together as I silently cried to myself.
A fucking vacuum? The visual made me nauseous. I hadn't known that was how an abortion was done. Not that it mattered now. I knew in my heart I'd had a miscarriage before he’d confirmed it. But hearing it from my father first and in such a way broke me. There was no compassion. Just stone-cold truth that seeped into my bones like black tar and embedded into me forever.
"Was it his?"
No. Why'd he have to ask that?
I squeezed my eyes tighter, tears filling them once again. The machine spiked behind me.
"Was the baby Konstantin's?"
I pressed my lips together and my cheeks flushed. There was no way I would answer that question honestly.
"I'm going to ask you one last time." Dad’s voice was controlled and quiet, alarming. "Was the baby his?"
Holding my breath, I exhaled through my nose and shook my head.
Three
I knew how it looked.
And I knew what Dad was thinking.
I denied the obvious truth, which made me look foolish.
