Ivy L. James

Sep 1112 min read

The Winner Takes It All: Chapter One

Updated: Oct 29

TW: death of parents in the past in a car accident, resulting PTSD re: storms, on-page anxiety attack.

CHAPTER 1: IN WHICH THEIR PATHS CROSS WITHOUT THEM KNOWING IT

Yelena Montalban glared at the dark clouds overhead before slipping into her white Subaru hatchback. “Do not storm on me,” she told the skies as she started her car. “Don’t you dare.” She could’ve skipped the gym and headed straight home, but a good workout would give her some endorphins. Besides, the weather channel app on her phone promised the storm would pass right over her little Virginia town.

Still, her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel didn’t let up as she eased out of the high school teachers’ parking lot and onto the main road. “Don’t storm, don’t storm, don’t storm,” she chanted under her breath. Her nails dug into the leather. But the clouds remained benign, even as they followed her to the local gym. Maybe the weather channel was right after all. She tossed her workout bag over her shoulder and trotted inside.

The lobby held the welcome station and a smoothie bar. The main floor of the gym opened to a wide-open room, with a long free-weight section along the wall and three parallel rows of ellipticals, bikes, and treadmills. A thirty-minute circuit area had been blocked off in the far back, and glass-walled workout classrooms took up the other side. With tennis and basketball courts and the track upstairs, and the pool downstairs, it was a massive gym, especially for such a rural area, and she was grateful for it every day.

“Welcome to Riverside Fitness—oh, hey, Yelena!” The greeter beamed and waved at her. “How’s it going?”

Yelena forced a carefree brightness into her voice and smile as she scanned her membership tag. “Doing awesome. How ’bout you?”

“Hangin’ in there.” He inclined his head toward the row of classrooms. “Have fun, and don’t forget to log your visit!”

Yelena gave him a thumbs-up and strode past the welcome station toward the locker rooms. On her way, she stopped to look up at the screen on the wall that showed the participation leaderboard. It updated once a day, at eight in the morning, so it wasn’t fully current, but close enough. The gym awarded points for everything—customer referrals, classes attended, even social media interaction. And the prize at the end of the competition? One thousand dollars in cold, hard cash.

She checked her position in the ranking.

EMBRY	185
YELENA	185
KYLE	135
JESS	130
DYLAN	125

Yelena scowled.

Sure, Embry was cute, but she was also a pain in Yelena’s ass. How were they still tied for first? Well, maybe today’s spin class would push Yelena up to number one.

In her favorite changing stall, she donned a sports bra, tank top, and biker shorts. She pulled her strawberry-blonde hair into a high ponytail, removed her necklace with her parents’ wedding rings, tucked her purse and gym bag into a locker, and headed for Classroom Two. The wood floor gleamed under the fluorescent lights. No windows meant no visuals of the impending storm, allowing Yelena to breathe again. The familiar spin instructor, Hanna, was already at the front of the room; because the too-loud music discouraged conversation, Yelena only waved her fingers at her and picked the bike at her preferred spot. First row, front and center.

As the music blared from the speakers, Hanna turned on her mic and encouraged everyone to find their places so class could start. Yelena stretched but kept an eye on the door. She and Embry often attended the same classes; would she show up at this one?

Hanna announced the beginning of class with no sign of Embry. Somehow both pleased and disappointed, Yelena climbed onto her bike.

The bass thudded in her chest. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. As her legs pumped, she leaned into the exercise, letting it wash her thoughts away. She closed her eyes and simply felt. The power. The freedom. The endorphins swept over her, enveloping her in a high. Sweat slicked her face and body. Her muscles ached, but she pressed on, pushing herself, knowing she had more to give. Her lungs and legs burned beautifully.

Too soon, though: “And now it’s time for cooldown!” Hanna called out. “Good job, everyone—you made it through the workout!”

Yelena slowed to a more reasonable pace. A sense of accomplishment tingled under her skin. Panting, she followed Hanna’s instructions for the cooldown period. After wiping down her bike, she stopped to say bye to Hanna on the way out. “Good class today!”

Hanna beamed. “You did great! Really pushed yourself. Good job!” She high-fived Yelena, who soaked up the praise. “Too bad Embry couldn’t join us today though. Where is she?”

Yelena crinkled her nose. “I have no idea. I’ve never talked to her outside the gym.”

“Oh. My bad. Y’all are always in the same classes, so I figured it was intentional.”

“Nope.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Yelena left the classroom. Her phone was in the locker room, and she needed to log her class time in the online leaderboard tracker.

Yelena froze at the loud crack of thunder. In the windows, lightning flashed outside. Her blood running cold, Yelena gritted her teeth and stalked away.

The thunder shook the building, and Yelena burst into the locker room, almost knocking into another woman. “Sorry,” she muttered, but she didn’t stop. She rushed to her changing stall and locked herself inside. Pressing her back against the wall, Yelena interlocked her fingers around the nape of her neck and ducked her head between her knees. Her breaths came too fast even as she tried to slow them, time them. The high from spin class was long gone.

I’m safe in here. I’m safe.

Yelena had had a therapist once, many years ago now. The therapist had been more concerned with being right than with helping her, so she’d pretty much let him talk his way through the mandated sessions. Then, when she’d finally been free of him, she heaved a sigh of relief and gone right back to her tried-and-true methods such as “hiding in closets” and “never talking about her feelings.”

Yelena hated that she still, at twenty-eight years old, had these anxiety attacks over storms. It was stupid. It was childish. But whenever a storm threatened, she reverted to that twelve-year-old girl, trapped in an overturned car with two dead parents in the front seats. She couldn’t go home either. Couldn’t drive in the lashing rain, cracking thunder, startling lightning. Couldn’t put herself in that danger.

But her roommate, Alexandria Hudson, knew the basics of her storm anxiety, and maybe she could—

The phone buzzed in Yelena’s pocket.

She fumbled for it with trembling hands and eventually managed to bring up the incoming text.

Alex: Are you still at the gym?

Yelena: Yes. In the locker room

Alex: Do you want me to come sit with you?

Yelena: You don’t have to if you’re busy

Alex: On my way.

So, Yelena huddled, sweaty in a way that had nothing to do with the exercise class she’d just finished, and tried desperately to drown out the sounds of the storm thrashing the building as she waited for her roommate to show up so she wouldn’t be alone.

*****

“And finally, we have the annual award for MVP. The best of the best here at Masterwork Accounting.” The CEO laid on the praise heavily, going on and on.

Come on. Get over yourself. Who is it? Embry leaned forward in her uncomfortable chair. She’d sat through the company’s entire awards ceremony, and so far, she was empty-handed. This was it. It had to be. If she hadn’t earned any recognition at all in the last year…

Her once-favorite high-school teacher’s voice whispered in the back of her head.

It’s hard to see her going anywhere.

Then the CEO called her up to the front and handed her the brass-and-glass plaque, her name stamped on the metal. Embry beamed as she posed for a photo. Outside, thunder rolled. The reassuring sound left her happier than ever, and after the ceremony wrapped up, she hustled out the door, barely managing to greet everyone who wanted to congratulate her. She ran through the storm to her navy-blue SUV, covering her goddess braids so the rain wouldn’t ruin them. She climbed up into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, cranked up the ABBA tunes, and wheeled out of the parking lot. She’d missed spin class for this ceremony, but at least she had an award to show for it. The award, really. The number-one available choice.

Before Embry went to the gym, though, she stopped by the Masterwork headquarters. Unlocking the side door, she entered her office. On the east wall, she evaluated her options for where to place the new award. The wall was already smattered with diplomas, certificates, and plaques. Everything Embry could amass to prove her worth over thirty-two years.

In the end, she moved a graduate certificate in advanced business analytics over with the diplomas so she could hang this plaque next to last year’s. And, well, next to the one for the year before that as well. It was a busy wall, but she treasured it. No one could say she hadn’t made something of herself now.

Embry snapped a quick photo on her phone and glanced at the clock on her desk. Yeah, spin class was over by now, but another class would take its place, and she could slide into that one. Quickly, she registered online for whatever was available—Pilates, as it turned out—and tucked her cell back into her purse. She sped to the gym so she wouldn’t be late. With so few spaces in the nearly full lot, she had to park in the far back corner. Ah well, it was extra exercise to warm her up.

Gym bag hanging from her elbow, Embry scanned her tag and nodded briskly at the greeter before hightailing it to the women’s locker room. She headed for her preferred changing stall…and found it closed. Taken. For just sitting, apparently. Someone was on the bench inside it, but not moving. The initial irritation faded into concern.

Embry knocked lightly.

“Taken!”

“You okay in there?”

“Fine, thanks.” The woman sounded stressed and vaguely familiar, but her voice was so thin Embry couldn’t place her.

Embry pressed again anyway. “D’you need anything? An employee?”

“I’m good.” But the woman made no move to leave the stall.

Begrudgingly, Embry opened another stall and yanked on her workout clothes and gym shoes. As she shoved her gym bag and purse into a locker, the locker room door opened, and a tall, athletic white woman entered. She wore her blonde hair in a pixie cut and had a slit in her right brow. Rain spattered her hoodie and jeans. If the eyebrow slit weren’t gay-signally enough, her rainbow low-top sneakers drew the eye.

“You in here?” the woman called.

The stressed voice from Embry’s preferred stall replied faintly, “First stall, Alex.” The door lock clicked open.

Rainbow Shoes strode to the stall and joined the person inside, though Embry didn’t catch a glimpse of whoever it was. Embry wasn’t trying to listen in, but it was hard to avoid hearing Rainbow Shoes ask, “How are you feeling?”

No audible answer.

“That’s okay. We can sit.”

Embry locked her things up and rushed to Classroom C, managing to slide in right before the instructor got started. She worried, still, about the woman in the stall, but she’d offered help and been turned down. There was nothing more to do about it. She let herself get lost in the class.

After an hour of mat Pilates, Embry showered (oh, that felt good after sweating her ass off), dressed, and checked the leaderboard. First place. Her lips curved. But the refreshing feeling from the shower evaporated when she saw Yelena’s name beneath hers with the exact same number of points. Tied for first? No. No way. This would not stand.

Embry drove home peeved about that, but she plastered a big grin on her face when she walked into her house, a two-story open-concept cottage she’d shared with her college roommate for nine years. Her family was visiting for dinner, and she didn’t want them to ask about her mood.

Her housemate, Rhiannon Bordeaux, shot her a smile from the kitchen as she slipped Embry’s sisters, sixteen-year-old Charity and six-year-old Joy, tortilla chips and a bowl of queso. They stole away to the dining table to dig into the appetizers. Rhiannon wore a crisp powder-blue blouse that flattered her fair skin and blonde hair, which was weaved into an intricate braid. Her wire-frame glasses sat perfectly straight.

“How was the awards ceremony?” asked her dad, Jamal, before popping a cheese-covered chip into his mouth. He’d offered to bring the family to the work party, but no one else was inviting their parents and siblings; it’d been implied “partner or spouse only” for the plus-ones, so Embry had turned him down, even though it would’ve been nice to have an audience for her win.

Embry pointed to herself. “Guess who got MVP for the third year in a row!”

“Oh!” Her mom, Connie, rushed over and hugged her. “Congratulations! There was no doubt in my mind you’d earn it again.”

Jamal got up and squeezed Embry’s shoulder. “You deserve it.”

Embry beamed at them, but again, she heard Ms. Takahashi: It’s a nice dream and all, but… After all the effort of getting into Wharton, of graduating top of her class, of moving back to rural Virginia to be a big fish in a small pond for nine years? She’d had a good reason, but was she doing enough? Was Ms. Takahashi right about her after all?

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Rhiannon said from the kitchen, her quiet voice nearly inaudible over the clamor of Charity and Joy shoveling chips into their mouths and arguing over who had to set the table.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Embry disentangled herself from her parents and started setting the table around her bickering sisters. “Arms up,” she said to Joy, who raised her hands obediently so Embry could slide a placemat and plate in front of her. When she got to Charity, though, she furrowed her brow. “Weren’t you supposed to be at that SAT study group tonight?”

Charity shrugged. “They’re boring. I’m fine.”

Distress, frustration, and worry welled inside Embry. As the successful oldest sister, it was her duty to help both her younger sisters get on the right path and stay on it. Joy was young still, but Charity was old enough now; her choices would start affecting her life long-term. What if she couldn’t get into a good college because she hadn’t tried hard enough? What if she didn’t go to college at all? Their parents tried, to little avail, but Embry held out hope that she might be a good influence.

If only Charity gave two shits what she had to say.

“The SAT’s coming up sooner than later,” Embry reminded her.

Charity rolled her eyes. “I’m aware, thanks.”

“Doesn’t Wharton recommend a 1500? A 1570? You’ll need to—”

“I haven’t even decided yet if I want to go to Wharton,” Charity grumbled. “Just because you went—”

“It’s not about me going. It’s one of the best schools in the country, and you could qualify if you applied yourself.” You’re so smart, but it’s like you don’t want anyone to know. “Or, if Wharton’s not for you, then MIT. Stanford. Harvard. Yale. You have options.”

“Wow, what options,” Charity drawled sarcastically. “Such variety. Thanks.”

Embry scowled and dropped silverware on either side of her sister’s plate. “You aren’t listening to me—”

“Coming up behind you,” Rhiannon murmured as she reached around Embry to set a big serving bowl of spicy taco meat on a trivet in the center of the table. Connie and Jamal brought the toppings bowls from the kitchen, Rhiannon set a few side dishes on trivets as well, and then they all sat down together. Connie said grace, and they dug in.

Embry had to shovel bite after bite of food into her mouth to keep from continuing the argument with Charity, to keep from calling their parents into it too. It wasn’t technically her business, but it was. She wanted Charity to do well. To succeed. She had the brains for it; she just needed to try.

And Embry was determined to lead her down the straight and narrow. Drag her kicking and screaming, even.

Charity would live her best life if Embry had anything to say about it.

Watch and see.

The Winner Takes It All is a steamy sapphic rivals-to-lovers romance. It released on 29 October 2024.

It is book 2 in the Virginia Is For All Lovers series. (Book 1 is Border Ctrl+Esc.) However, it can be read as a standalone.

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