“Thank you for inviting me today. It was nice,” I say. “Your parents are really nice. It’s nice you’re so close with them.” And nice is the only adjective I’m capable of coming up with, apparently.

“You’re not close with your father.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“No,” I confirm. “My dad, he—he didn’t deal well with my mom leaving. None of us did, really. But Hallie and I were just kids. He was the adult. He was supposed to hold it all together, and instead he fell apart. By the time he started acting like a parent again, I didn’t need one. Or want one, at least.”

“And now?”

“He’s getting remarried.” I sigh. “He called the day I found out I got into Scholenberg. Not that he would have had any idea of what it even is. I’ve only met Sandra—his fiancée—once.”

“How long have they been together?”

“Three years,” I admit. “I don’t go back home much.”

“Why not?”

“It’s weird. There are all these memories of the past. Before my mom left. After. The last time I was home was for my sister’s wedding. She’s... forgiven him. She went through all the same shit I did, and now she’s just fine. Married with a kid, going over to his house for dinner like we were always one big happy family. I’m the resentful one stuck in the past, just getting more bitter as they move on with their lives.”

“Just because you had the same upbringing doesn’t mean you have to respond to things the same way. You’re not the same person as your sister. I mean, look at me and Sophia. She brought a guy to brunch who can spend ten minutes describing his song about feeding squirrels. I was sitting next to the ‘Future of Women’s Soccer.’”

A surprised laugh bursts out of my lips. “Where did you come up with that?”

“I may have researched more than just your conversion rate,” Beck admits.

I smile, but the amusement fades quickly. “Thank you,” I say quietly.

Unexpected warmth encompasses my left hand.

I turn my gaze to the German countryside flashing by, trying to shake the claustrophobia crawling over me. I just told Beck things I’ve never spoken aloud. Never told anyone. That disgusting fish must have had some truth serum in it.

I’ve always kept confessions and coitus separate. Mixing them seems an awful lot like a relationship, and a boyfriend will not get me to the Olympics. To the national team. On a professional team after graduation. Won’t help me accomplish any of the goals I’ve set for myself.