Echo Coulter looked down at the letter in her hands for the millionth time. You can do this.
She'd already memorized every word of the acceptance letter, but couldn't help checking it once more, just to be sure she wasn't dreaming.
Her application to San Diego Design and Fashion had been accepted. She'd received the letter last week, and she still couldn't believe it was happening. She hadn't dared apply for a design degree for undergrad, as they had no athletics department at any of the design schools. And everyone would have flipped out. But how would they take it now?
She could hardly wait to enroll in her classes, shop for supplies. She'd need to find a place closer to campus, of course… But first, she'd need to tell her family. Any other family would be thrilled she was going to graduate school. Not hers, though. Sports was the family business. But she wanted no part of it.
As she trembled, the paper made a rustling sound in her hand. She stood outside her father's library, trying to force herself to take that step through the doors and deliver the speech she'd been practicing for days. She was going to explain that while she appreciated everything they'd done for her over the years—driving her to meets, finding the tutors when she needed help to keep her grades up, sitting through every one of her races—she had other dreams for herself. Wait, had she been planning to say 'other' or 'more'?
Come on. Rip off the bandage and don't let anything they say stop you from taking charge of your own life and future.
"Are you coming or going, Echo?" her father's voice called to her from where he was seated behind his desk. "We can see you hovering in the crack of the doorway." Her mother stood just behind him, a hand on his shoulder, as they both read through some paperwork.
Now or never. She pushed the door open.
"I'm—I wanted to talk to you. Both of you, actually." She spoke up, stepping forward. In her life, a lot of things came easily, but speaking up for herself wasn't one of them.
"Oh, good." Her mother said. "We had been hoping to find a moment alone to discuss something with you as well."
Echo's brow furrowed as she stepped forward and refolded her acceptance letter. Her father sighed as her mother squeezed his shoulder.
"There's something we've been keeping from you and the boys," he began carefully. "It's nothing you should be worried about, and that's part of why we haven't said anything to you sooner."
She frowned. "What is it? What's wrong?" She'd known something was off with her father for a while.
"I've been feeling…under the weather for some time now. I'd been putting off going to the doctor for a while, trying to make adjustments to my diet and exercising more again," her father said, holding her gaze.
"We figured the stress from Bryce's wedding was making things worse, and once it was over, he would improve," her mother added. "But it's been a while now…"
"And there's been no improvement," Brent finished. "I went to my primary care guy, but he can't seem to find anything to explain it, so he wants me to have tests run and see a few specialists. I can't even imagine how many pills they're going to make me swallow, or scans of things I'm going to have to lie still for, and it'll probably turn out to be something simple, like a vitamin imbalance," he continued. His assertions sounded less like genuine frustration and more like wishful thinking. Echo couldn't tell whether he was trying to reassure her or himself that everything would turn out fine.
"So…you want me to tell the others?" she asked, unsure how to respond or what to say. Her stomach knotted. What if everything wasn't okay? There was no way she could leave home. And did they expect her to have to break that kind of news to the guys?
"No," they both insisted, with a synchronized calm that gave her a chill.
"I don't want to tell everyone until we have something concrete to say," her father insisted. "No need worrying everyone, when it'll probably turn out to be nothing."
Just me, Echo thought. I'm the only one who's allowed to worry with them. The weight of that knowledge rooted her to the spot, as if a pile of rubble had landed on her.
"What we need you to help with is making sure they don't start to suspect anything until we know there is actually something to worry about. The last thing we want is for any of them to get distracted. Bryce and Tami deserve to enjoy being married for a while, and Dax has been doing so well this season. And you know how your twin is. One little thing could derail him. Sure, he has Asha, but still. Fox is, well, he's always focused on getting into the majors. As for Gage, he's having a fantastic senior year, but picking where to go next year for college isn't going to be easy. I don't want him to be thinking about anything but keeping those grades up and his basketball season." Her mother nodded from behind her husband's chair.
Echo looked down. Of course. The boys. All with professional careers and the accompanying pressures. More important. She was disappointed, but not entirely surprised, that they couldn't think of any reason why she might not need the additional responsibility or distraction of this news.
She winced at the thought. She was being selfish. Her father needed her. Her parents came to her because they trusted her, valued her, because they could count on her.
They didn't think of it as a burden. And they didn't know about design school, because she hadn't told them. She had applied secretly. Hell, she'd always kept her sketches hidden, assuming they wouldn't approve. She only had herself to blame on that front. But still, forcing her to hold on to this knowledge was too much to ask.
"It isn't that we want you to lie to anyone," her mother insisted. "But if you can drive Gage to and from practice every now and then if he has car problems, or just keep an eye on things around the house, deal with the cook and cleaning service people when I can't, help arrange the company functions. Those kinds of things. It will be a huge weight off our shoulders."
And onto mine.
"As things progress and we figure out what is going on, we'll get a better idea of what exactly we'll need from you. We know we can rely on you. We always have, and you've never let us down." Her mother smiled with a pride that sent warmth through Echo. "You have no idea the relief you are. That we know how well you handle yourself."
"And we know that this is going to inconvenience you and affect your training," her father continued. "The Olympics has always been something we wanted to help you with when the time came, and we think you're ready, so we've hired a coach for you. He's young, and looking to build his reputation, but he's promising and dedicated. He'll be able to adjust to all our needs in a way that older and more experienced coaches might not be willing or able. We'll be meeting with him next week, and you'll start your training immediately."
Oh, right. That little thing. The other thing she'd been avoiding telling them. She didn't want to go to the Olympics. But really, who in the Coulter family ever said such a thing?
"We don't want you to lose whatever momentum you've built up on your own, but we figure it will help you out to have someone like him to take care of you," Julia agreed. "We don't want you to have to worry about anything we can help you with. We'll pay for whatever he says you need, or whatever you feel you need, to get you on that podium."
Echo stood blinking, uncertainty keeping her from opening her mouth. She wanted to scream, but knew that wouldn't be appropriate. They needed her, and they knew they were imposing, so they were doing what they could to make up for it. She appreciated the gesture, but the Olympics… It wasn't something she'd ever been particularly enthusiastic about. That was Gramps' dream. Their dream. Not hers. Yes, she could run, but it hadn't been her passion. Just a gift.
Gramps was the one who always brought it up, telling anyone and everyone that someday she'd follow in his footsteps and represent their country on the world stage. He loved the fact that he was known internationally for having competed in the Olympic games. Though most people forgot he hadn't medaled. His romance with her grandmother and the role he played in her defection were the reasons he was forever linked to the Olympics.
"Well, what do you think?" her mother asked. Both her parents were looking at her, waiting for her to say something. Something that wasn't a scream.
"I'm sorry," she stalled. "It's…a lot to process."
The acceptance letter crumpled in her hand as she gripped it tighter and tighter, as though letting go of the paper would mean letting go of her dream. It wasn't what she wanted, but it wasn't as though her father wanted to be sick or wanted to get poked and prodded while the doctors figured out what was wrong with him. They needed her, and the last thing she wanted was for them to feel like she was abandoning them. And they were trying to make up for it with this coach, even if she'd rather they pay for supplies and classes.
"Just…let me know what you need and when you need it," she said, slipping the acceptance letter behind her back and out of sight. "What matters most is that you get this all figured out and start feeling better."
"Thanks, sweetheart," Brent said with a warm smile. "We'll take you to breakfast next Tuesday before we go to meet your new coach. No telling what kind of diet he'll put you on, so enjoy the bacon while you can." He winked and she fought for a smile even though the waiting tears made her eyes sting.
"I'm guessing you're the one who's going to need to worry about dull diets," she tried to joke. "Anyway, I'll…uh…I'll see you guys tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? You're not going to be home for dinner?" Julia asked with a furrowed brow.
"No, I'm staying over at Jen's tonight," Echo stammered over the lie. "It's…what I wanted to tell you when I came in."
"All right, honey. We'll see you tomorrow, then." Her mother smiled.
"Yeah," she responded with a half—assed wave, and walked carefully out of the room.
She headed for her bedroom, pulling her cell phone out to text Jen and let her know she was coming over. She managed to hold back the tears until she was safely in her bedroom. She knew she needed to keep moving, otherwise she'd become an immobile, crying heap on the floor, so she grabbed a duffel bag and began throwing some clothes and overnight things into it. While she packed, she pushed her mind to think of anything but the things that could be wrong with her father.
Cancer? An undiagnosed heart condition? Something less dangerous or more manageable, like a recently developed allergy or an autoimmune disorder?
The bag fell to the carpet with a dull thud as Echo slipped to the floor, pulling her knees towards her chest. The numbness that filled her expanded until she felt like she could explode at any minute. Like she just needed to run. If she ran, she didn't have to think. It was her escape. Trapped between emotional extremes, between her parents and her dreams, between who she'd always been and who she wanted to be, she just needed a break. To just be Echo for a night. Or maybe even be someone else.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket with a message from Jen. Come over.
