Table of Contents
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
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Copyright
Here Comes the Flood
By Kate McMurray
An Elite Athletes Novel
Two years ago, swimmer Isaac Flood hit rock bottom. His alcoholism caught up with him, landing him in jail with a DUI. After facing his demons in rehab, he’s ready to get back in the pool. He stuns everyone at the US Olympic Trials, and now he’s back at his fourth Olympics with something to prove.
Diver Tim Swan made headlines for snatching a surprise gold medal four years ago, and then making a viral coming-out video with his actor boyfriend, the subject of splashy tabloid headlines. Now his relationship is over and Tim just wants to focus on winning gold again, but reporters in Madrid threaten to overshadow Tim’s skill on the platform.
When Isaac and Tim meet, they recognize each other as kindred spirits—they are both dodging media pressure while devoting their lives to the sports they love. As they get to know each other—and try to one-up each other with their respective medal counts—they realize they’re becoming more than friends. But will the relationship burn bright for just sixteen days, or can it last past the Closing Ceremony?
Prologue
Two years ago
Olympian Gets DUI
RALEIGH, NC, July 18—Retired Olympic swimming phenom Isaac Flood was arrested Thursday for driving under the influence after a night out at Mercury, a dance club in Raleigh. Police pulled Flood over after swerving across a yellow line. He had a blood alcohol count of 0.15, just under twice the legal limit.
Flood is one of the most decorated Olympians of all time, winning a total of nine medals in three Olympic Games. He retired two years ago, after his last Olympics, and has since cultivated a reputation as a party boy….
Olympic Diver Comes Out in Video
BOULDER, CO, August 2—Olympic gold medalist Timothy Swan announced he was gay in a video he posted on his website last night. In the video, Swan, 22, stated he’s dating Patterson Wood, an actor on teen soap Oak Hills. “I’ve never been in love like this before,” Swan proclaims on the video, with Wood sitting beside him….
January, this year
“WHAT THE hell was that?”
Adam stared down at Isaac as he treaded water. Isaac found Adam’s stare unnerving. He was tempted to dunk his head back under to avoid it.
Instead, he grabbed the edge of the pool and kicked his legs out. “What the hell was what?”
“Your flip turns. You’re doing this weird thing with your kick. I think it’s slowing you down.”
“Oh.” Isaac tried to mentally replay what he’d done. He didn’t think he’d changed his kick.
“I don’t know how I never noticed it before. Have you been doing it this whole time? Jesus. Okay. So, when you flip, straighten out your legs right away to push off. None of that fluttery stuff.”
“I’m doing fluttery stuff?”
Adam sighed. “Think about it this time instead of going on autopilot.” He took a step back from the pool. “Do it slow so you can think it through. Don’t worry about your time. I’m gonna watch on the camera, okay?” He picked up his tablet from where he’d left it on a chair near the side of the pool.
“Okay.”
At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, after being out of competitive swimming for three years, Isaac’s body didn’t function the way it used to. In a lot of ways, swimming felt like habit, as easy as walking. But in others, it was entirely new. He couldn’t just hop in a pool and swim speedy laps the way he used to. So Isaac swam slowly, mindful of his strokes. He got to the end and did the flip turn, and thought about where his legs were as he came out of it. He returned to Adam and lifted his head out of the water. “Did I fix it?” he asked.
“Yeah, that was better. But let’s try it again. Get out.”
Isaac pushed himself out of the pool and got back up on the block, knowing what came next. Adam said, “Do it at speed now. Same thing. Straight legs. No fluttering.”
Isaac waited for Adam to get his stopwatch ready. When Adam blew his whistle, Isaac launched himself off the block. He put everything into his strokes, thought about the flip turn, came back. He grabbed the edge of the pool and looked up at Adam expectantly.
“You shaved six-tenths off your one-hundred-meter time. Do it again.”
Isaac climbed out of the pool.
An hour later, once Isaac’s limbs had turned completely to jelly, he was headed toward the locker room when a guy in a polo shirt snagged him. The insignia on the breast of his shirt indicated he worked for the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency.
Drug test. Great.
Not that Isaac had anything to hide. His heart rate spiked just the same.
“Test his BAC too,” Adam said.
Isaac gaped at him. “Coach.”
“It’s for your own good.”
Isaac frowned. Did Adam not trust him? “I’ve been sober for eleven months and eighteen days.”
Adam patted Isaac’s shoulder. “I know. We’re going to prove it.”
The anti-doping guy held up his case full of testing equipment and pointed toward the locker room. Isaac let out a sigh and followed him, resigned. This was his life now, an endless series of tests to prove that he’d dried out and gotten his shit together. No one would ever believe or trust him on that score again, which he supposed he deserved.
Luke Rogers—another swimmer Adam coached, one Isaac considered his chief competition for a spot on the Olympic team—stood near the entrance to the locker room, looking at his phone. “You see this bullshit?” he asked.
“What bullshit?” Isaac said, scrubbing his hair with a towel, still annoyed about the test.
“That gay diver, Timmy Swan? Apparently he and the actor from that CW show got engaged.”
“And I care because…?”
Luke shrugged. “I don’t know. In case you thought you were the only aquatics athlete who could snag gossipy headlines.”
“Apparently not.”
“Jealous?”
“Not even a little.” He pointed at the anti-doping guy. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
TIM SLID into the shimmery silk robe. It felt strange on his skin, not like the old terry cloth robe he wore at home. “Are you sure about this?”
“Of course, babe,” said Pat, who wore a pair of pajama pants made from the same fabric.
Tim didn’t know how to articulate how deeply uncomfortable this whole production made him. He’d never been a big fan of having his picture taken, let alone in these ridiculous clothes. And he didn’t like that everyone on set was staring at him, and the whole boudoir theme made it feel like they were inviting the entire world into their bedroom. On top of that, he was missing practice—crucial with the Olympic Trials j
ust a few months away—in order to do this dumb photo shoot.
“It’s romantic!” Pat insisted.
Tim sighed. He didn’t think there was anything romantic about a froufrou photo shoot for an LGBT magazine. He tugged on the cuffs of the robe. “I feel so naked.”
“Really, Timmy? There are literally hundreds of photos of you on the internet wearing nothing but a tiny Speedo. You’re more covered up now than you are when you compete.”
Tim wanted to make an argument about context, but he knew it would be futile. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
They were on a set dressed to look like a bedroom, and everything was gray. The photographer had insisted all the gray made the bright green color of their silky pajamas pop.
“This is good visibility for us,” Pat insisted, positioning himself on the bed. He motioned for Tim to sit next to him.
Tim crossed his arms over his chest. “Who cares? Whether or not people know my name won’t affect my chances of winning a gold medal. It won’t help me do three and a half somersaults off the platform.”
Pat rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a pill. Come here.”
It all felt like a mistake. Just a week ago Pat had come to him with a ring box containing two platinum bands, and Tim had felt so overwhelmed by the gesture that he’d said yes. Every time he looked at the ring on his hand now, though, all he felt was uncertainty. Tim was only twenty-four. Pat was his first boyfriend. He loved Pat, but it felt like this was happening too fast. He needed more time to live his life, to work on his diving, and he wanted to do that outside of the spotlight. Marriage felt like a period at the end of a sentence Tim wasn’t ready to finish—a sentence in giant type on a billboard on a major highway that everyone saw on their way to work. And now Pat wanted to do this splashy photo shoot, showing off their love to the world, but Tim only wanted to vomit.
Still, he slid onto the bed next to Pat and let Pat hug him from behind. He closed his eyes, savoring Pat’s touch, his big hands, his warm skin.
Then he saw the flash from behind his eyelids.
“That’s beautiful,” said the photographer.
Tim barely managed to stop himself from running away.
June, two months before the Olympics
Transcript from TBC broadcast of USA Swimming Olympic Trials
DAVIS: I’ll tell you, Jim, I never expected to see Isaac Flood again, at least not in a pool.
O’TOOLE: I agree, and yet here we are. For the last eighteen months, Flood has been working with coach Adam Vreeland at the Southeast Aquatic Center in North Carolina. He’s coming out of retirement, but I gotta say, he looks better than ever. His strokes are cleaner, he’s in great shape. I think he’s got a solid shot at making this team.
DAVIS: All right. Well, here we are at the start of the 400-meter freestyle final. There’s Flood in Lane Three.
O’TOOLE: And they’re off. Flood is off to a little bit of a slow start. There’s Reggie Stevens in Lane Eight. He’s always fast out of the gate. And then in Lane Four, right next to Flood, is Luke Rogers. Luke is the favorite to win this event at the Olympics. He’s the reigning world champion and has been swimming at world-record pace all season. There, Rogers is pulling ahead. Here they are at the turn. And… Rogers is ahead with Stevens right at his tail. But look at Flood!
DAVIS: This is really a remarkable race.
O’TOOLE: Hard to say how it will shake out. These guys aren’t going to put their all into it until the end. But oh, Flood is pulling ahead of Rogers. I don’t believe it!
DAVIS: Fourth turn. If you see the line, you can see that Flood and Rogers are both moving ahead of the world record set by Rogers last year. I don’t believe it. How great does Flood look?
O’TOOLE: It’s a remarkable story. I don’t believe it either.
DAVIS: Does this change the makeup of Team USA?
O’TOOLE: I think it might. I didn’t think Flood had a chance, but now…. Last turn! And here’s Rogers. And Flood. They’re neck and neck in the last stretch. Who knew Flood could do this anymore? Rogers is in the lead, but oh my God, Flood is gaining on him again! And it’s…. Flood wins the race! I don’t believe it!
DAVIS: Well, there you have it. Isaac Flood is headed to his fourth Olympics. And he looks thrilled….
Transcript from the TBC broadcast of USA Diving Olympic Trials
GREGORIUS: Timothy Swan will perform a back three-and-a-half pike, an incredibly difficult dive.
MICHAELS: He’s made quite a few headlines lately.
GREGORIUS: True, but not for his diving.
MICHAELS: Still, he’s one of the most beautiful divers in the world. He’s been doing well in international competition, but there’s a lot of competition, especially from the Chinese and Mexican divers.
GREGORIUS: Do you think he can repeat his gold medal from four years ago?
MICHAELS: Not sure. He really came out of nowhere to win that gold medal. No one expected him to even be in the running. He just had a great day. It remains to be seen if lightning can strike twice. But he’s my favorite of the American divers to do well in Madrid.
GREGORIUS: And he’s a favorite of the tabloids too.
MICHAELS: A very public breakup will do that.
GREGORIUS: Not to mention he’s one of the few out gay Olympians. That’s gotta be tough for him.
MICHAELS: Let’s watch him dive. And… beautiful! Just beautiful.
GREGORIUS: I only hope he can keep his personal life out of the news going into the Olympics. I’d hate to see that affect his performance. Otherwise, he’s guaranteed a spot on the team….
Chapter 1
August, five days before the Olympics
ISAAC HAD done this three times before, so it probably shouldn’t have surprised him that his room in the Olympic Village remained unfinished. It smelled of fresh paint and plaster, the bedding had been left in a haphazard pile on the bare mattress, and the bathroom had neither a shower curtain nor any paper products.
The previous Olympics had been this way too, although that building had also featured shoddy construction. Everything here at least seemed structurally sound. Just… not quite ready for people yet.
He sighed and dropped his luggage on the bed. As a senior member of the American team, he’d managed to score his own room, due to his need for quiet and focus or whatever bullshit Adam had fed the US Olympic Committee. Singles were rare; Luke had told him on the plane that his jealousy was intense because he’d be bunking with a wide-eyed nineteen-year-old new to international competition. Isaac had laughed.
But the joke was on him. This room was a shithole. Bare white walls, a single dresser that seemed to be made of particleboard, a thin mattress on a cheap frame, and the most bare-bones bathroom he’d ever seen. Although maybe the other rooms weren’t much better.
His phone chimed with a text from Adam: Pool time in 30 mins.
And that was another thing. He’d been in this godforsaken city all of an hour, and Adam wanted him in the pool already.
At least the location itself wasn’t so bad. Madrid boasted a certain Old World beauty as the host city. Isaac had never been here before; the only city in Spain he’d ever visited previously was Barcelona. This, at least, was not one of those countries with an authoritarian regime that didn’t care much for—or actively condemned—men such as himself who occasionally liked to be with men.
A headache blossomed behind his eyes. Probably dehydration.
He dug his water bottle out of his backpack and walked over to the bathroom sink, only there was no water when he turned the knob. Of fucking course.
The Aquatics Center would have showers, though. Isaac quickly moved stuff around in his bags, changed into warm-up pants and a T-shirt, and hoisted his duffel bag onto his shoulder.
When Isaac walked into the Aquatics Center a few minutes later, an unholy racket echoed through the whole interior. “What the hell is that?” he asked Adam, who stood near the entrance of the locker room.
“They’re screwing the chairs into the stands.”
“Oh good God.”
“You stop noticing it after a while. I have your suits. USOC apologized about thirty-six times for the delay.”
Isaac grimaced. Officially sanctioned team swimsuits irked him. Usually they were state-of-the-art, so he shouldn’t have complained. But new racing suits were so… confining. Still, all kinds of ridiculous things could shave tenths of a second off his times, so he’d take whatever advantage he could get.
When he’d shown up at the Trials, he’d only been hoping to prove he could still swim well enough to make this team. But now that he was here, in the actual Olympic venue, he suddenly realized he wanted to win.
The competitive spirit still burned in him, it turned out. Clawing his way out from the bottle had been one of the greatest challenges of his life, and he’d been telling himself for weeks that he didn’t need to win. He just needed to prove to himself that he was still vital, that he could still do the thing he’d been training his body to do for more than two decades. Everyone in his life had been treating his making the Olympic team as a miracle. That he stood here in Madrid should have been enough.
But no, he needed to win. He’d gotten this far, hadn’t he? Why not push himself to be more, to be better?
Adam handed him a duffel bag. “Try the new suits. There are two of each style in there, plus the warm-up suit you have to wear during all broadcast races—which is all of them, basically. I do not care even a little which suit you wear as long as you’re comfortable. Lane Four is yours after you change. Luke’s got Lane Five.”
“Thanks.”
Isaac supposed official gear wasn’t so bad. He’d been seated behind a couple of synchronized swimmers on the plane, who had told him their official suits each had hundreds of Swarovski crystals sewn on. “That’s ridiculous,” Isaac had said. One of the gymnasts told him to shut up, but the other had nodded gravely.
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