He was still standing there when the call came in.
The noise hadn't settled yet. It never really did after a race. Voices layered over each other, footsteps cutting across wet concrete, laughter from one end, sharp instructions from officials on the other. Chlorine hung in the air, thick enough to taste. Towels dragged across shoulders, water dripping in uneven lines across the floor.
Jeffrey was saying something beside him—fast, animated, still riding whatever adrenaline hadn't left his body yet.
Dayo didn't catch most of it.
The phone vibrated in his hand first. Then again.
He glanced down.
Sharon.
He answered without stepping away yet.
"Yeah."
There was no greeting on her side. Just a slight shift in her breathing, like she had already been waiting for him to pick up.
"She's here."
For a second, nothing moved.
Not outside. Not inside.
