Page 24 of Rivals and Liars

She sent that this morning, and Kate exhaled with a quiet ache, because to her it's the same as saying she wants to see her in a hotel room to fuck.

"Sweetheart, lunch is ready," Diane announces.

Kate turns and sees her walking toward the pool, where she's been sitting on the edge with her feet in the water, staring at the blue line where the chlorinated pool ends and the ocean begins in the distance.

She gets up carefully because, even though her back doesn't hurt right now, she woke up this morning with her left side seized up and it took her several seconds to straighten herself out.

She follows Diane in silence, thinking about how grateful she is to have her here, because her coach is the one making sure she eats and leaves the house. She's so apathetic that if it were up to her, she wouldn't get out of bed.

"A woman is coming this afternoon," Diane says, serving food onto Kate's plate like it's nothing.

Kate snaps her head up so fast she hurts her neck.

"What woman?"

"Her name is Rachel Collins. She was an Olympic swimmer back in the day—you might know her."

The redhead doesn't even bother thinking about it. Swimming isn't a sport that interests her, and the only thing she cares about is why this woman is coming to her house while she's on vacation.

"What's she coming for?"

"She retired at thirty because of an injury." Diane ignores her question, fills her own plate, and sits down. "She didn't handle retirement well—suffered anxiety attacks for months. But she recovered, went back to school, and found a new calling helping elite athletes who went through the same thing she did. She guides them, supports them, and answers all the questions you've probably been carrying around in your head."

"I don't need a goddamn shrink, Diane," Kate snaps, pushing back from the table.

Diane slams her hand on the table hard enough to make everything rattle, and Kate freezes halfway out of her chair.

"Damn it, Kate, you need someone to help you! You've been walking around here like a ghost, and if I can't help you with the Leire situation, I'll help you with this. So Rachel is coming, and you're going to sit down with her and listen. That's how it's going to be until we leave."

"What? Every day?"

"Yes." Her coach's fury surprises her. "Actually, she'll be staying in one of the guest rooms. Don't worry—you won't have to see her for more than a couple of hours in the afternoon."

Kate is rattled, not even sure what to ask, but she's never seen Diane this angry before—and after everything this woman does for her, the least she owes her is to try.

"Okay."

"That's what I want to hear. Now eat, please."

Diane points at Kate's plate and she scoots her chair back to the table. They finish the rest of the meal in silence until they're in the kitchen washing dishes and Diane comes to stand beside her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart—I didn't want to talk to you like that, but I'm worried about you and I'm losing my mind."

"I'm sorry for worrying you." Kate wraps her arms around her, and Diane holds her tight, the way you hold someone who might as well be the daughter you never had.

"You'll get through this, Kate—this and whatever comes next. Okay?"

Kate nods, unable to answer.

Rachel Collins arrives at six o'clock sharp, brought directly from the port by a driver. Kate is standing in the entryway, watching Diane walk over to greet her as she gets out of the car. The woman isn't what Kate expected. She'd pictured someone older, bitter, enduring her own frustration by listening to everyone else's—but Collins seems like neither of those things. Kate puts her at around forty. Dark-haired, tall, with a swimmer's broad shoulders and an easygoing presence that throws Kate completely off. She doesn't look like a psychologist or a mentor or whatever she is. She looks like someone you'd sit down with and crack open a beer, the kind of friend you tell your day to.

The redhead watches her walk alongside Diane. She has a bag over her shoulder and a carry-on that Diane has taken from her. She's wearing jeans and a blouse, her dark hair cut just above her shoulders. There's something quietly attractive about her—something that makes you look. And when Rachel is standing right in front of her, Kate realizes what it is: the woman is warm. The kind of person who makes you feel at ease before they've said a word.

"Hi, Katherine, it's great to meet you," the woman says, extending her hand.

"Just Kate," she replies, and hugs herself once she lets go of Rachel's hand.

"Here, give me that," Diane says, reaching for the bag on Rachel's shoulder. "I'll take these to your room and show you around—I'll leave you two to it."