“Fuck that,” Sulli cringes. “Jane is right. You didn’t tell me because I’m the one person who chose a sport over a childhood and I’m the one person who can tell you fuck your excuses.” Beckett shoots to his feet. “What about you? The second you retire from swimming you’re all of a sudden drinking alcohol and passing out—at least I’m not pointlessly destroying my body.” I wince. “Cold, brother,” Eliot says sadly. Sulli grits her teeth. “Fuck you.” “No, fuck you,” Beckett snaps.
