The next few heats blur past. I’ve still got the relays to go, but my head’s clearer now. I just need to keep my pace and not overthink it. Let my body take over.
At the break, I towel off quickly and shrug into my parka, the fleece lining warm against my back. I grab my water, still riding the adrenaline. It’s a good kind of buzz, the kind that leaves your skin tight and your pulse running just a little too fast.
But then I hear a crash, followed by a few loud, slurred words. They rise over the chatter and the splash of the pool, ringing in my ears until everything else fades.
“Warren! Warren, you in here?”
I freeze, water bottle halfway to my mouth.You can’t be fucking serious.
I turn, and there he is. My dad, leaning hard on his walker as he limps along the pool deck. He’s hunched forward, mouth slack, face blotchy and red. His shirt’s half-tucked, one shoe untied.
My gut twists.
“Warren!”
Laughter rings out from the bleachers. Someone points. My stomach bottoms out.
Coach Voss steps forward, already heading toward him. But I’m moving, too, faster than I can even think.
“Coach,” I say, catching him by the arm. “It’s okay. He’s—that’s my dad. Let me handle it, please?”
I jog across the rest of the deck, heart pounding in my ears. I don’t normally like to be the center of attention, and now, every set of eyes is on me. Every stare on my back. Every breath loud in my throat.
“Dad,” I say under my breath, grabbing his arm. “What are you doing here?”
“Had to see you,” he slurs. “They’re keeping me locked up in that place—said I can’t even have a goddamn beer! Bullshit, Warren.” His fingers grip my wrist too tight. “I needed to see you. You’re my son, damn it.”
I gulp. His breath is sharp and sour, cutting through the chlorine-heavy air. “How did—how did you know I’d be here?”
“Got your meet schedule from the school’s website. Why?” He squints at me, swaying slightly. “You embarrassed?”
I pull back, trying to ease my arm free without making a scene. “Let’s just—let’s get you outside, okay?”
“I’m fine,” he snaps. “I just needed to—”
“Dad, please. Come on.”
“Don’t you pull that crap,” he barks. “Actin’ like you’re too good for me now? Too busy with your little girlfriend and your fancy school?”
He wrenches away from me, stumbling back a step. And his slurred, too-loud voice? It echoes off the tile walls, loud enough that the crowd noise quiets, people starting to turn their heads.
“Dad. Let’s go.”
“You’re just like your mother,” he sneers. “Think you’re smarter than me, better than me.”
“Stop.” My pulse jumps. My voice is low, pleading. “Please. Don’t do this.”
“You know what your problem is?” His arm flies up, finger jabbing too close to my face. “You’re too goddamn proud. Think you don’t need me? I’m the reason you’re even here. I’m the one who kept you in the water! Taught you to swim, damn it! And you just—just—”
“Fuckin’ hell,” someone mutters from the crowd.
An opposing swimmer whistles low under their breath, and I wince.
“Dad,” I try again. “Please.”
It seems someone’s already called security. Probably a pearl-clutching mom from the stands who thinks she’s witnessing a domestic crisis.
Two guys in bright blue polos push their way toward us from the back of the pool deck. My dad doesn’t see them at first, but the second they reach him, he jerks away from me like I’m the one dragging him off.
