9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

S am stepped onto the edge of the field, the faint scent of freshly cut grass mixing with the earthy tang of the dirt beneath her shoes. The wide expanse of green stretched out beneath the mid-morning sun, its rays casting long shadows from the goalposts at either end.

A handful of women were scattered across the field, some jogging and kicking a ball back and forth, while others stood nearby in clusters, chatting and laughing.

Liz was easy to spot, with her bright red ponytail bobbing back and forth as she jogged after a ball.

“I don’t get the appeal,” Tiana muttered as she ambled up beside Sam, one hand raised to shield her eyes from the blinding sunlight. “Why would anyone want to run around chasing balls in this heat?”

Sam smirked as they walked toward the sidelines where a row of bags, water bottles, and spare gear lay strewn across the grass. “Maybe you’d get it if you had even a single ounce of coordination.”

“Oh, I’m coordinated,” Tiana mumbled. “Just not with—balls.” She made a disgusted face, and Sam burst into laughter.

When she looked up, she saw Jess looking at them from the sidelines, offering a small wave.

“Hey,” Sam said with a smile as they approached.

Jess smiled back at Sam before her gaze moved to Tiana. “Are you playing too?”

“Mm definitely not,” Tiana replied, scanning the field. “I’m just here for the free and—” Her gaze trailed over a woman with tattoos and short cropped hair as she walked by. “Very— hot —entertainment.”

Jess shot Sam a mildly surprised look.

Sam smirked, shrugging as she dropped to sit in the grass beside her.

“Hey,” Liz called, jogging toward them with a wide grin. “Was wondering if you’d actually show. I thought maybe you’d wuss out.”

Sam gave her a half-hearted glare as she began lacing up her cleats. “Someone had to come keep you humble.”

Liz’s grin grew, and she could almost see that same twelve-year-old best friend in her once again. And for the first time since they’d seen each other, it felt good. A reminder of the good times they’d shared.

And that, maybe, they could have those good times again. Eventually.

“You wanna play mid or forward?” Liz asked, leaning forward in a deep stretch.

“What are you playing?”

Liz lifted her head, and Sam immediately recognized the competitive glint in her eyes. “Whichever one will be defending you.”

Sam smirked to herself. That was the answer she’d been hoping for. “Midfield.”

Liz nodded once as she rose out of her stretch, rolling her shoulders back. “Hope you kept up your cardio. It won’t be fun if I can outrun you.”

“Even if I hadn’t,” Sam said as she stood, brushing the grass off her shorts, “you’d still never be able to outrun me.”

Liz hummed, the edges of her eyes tightening. “We’ll see.”

Sam grabbed her water off the ground. She took a long, steady sip, feeling the anticipation settle into her chest. It had been years since she’d played, but just being out there—the smell of fresh-cut grass, the sounds of cleats scraping turf—already brought everything rushing back.

Liz waved her to follow, leading her toward the others gathered near the center of the field. After quick introductions and handshakes, they split up into teams, falling easily into position.

Although it had been years since she’d last touched a soccer ball, everything came back to her at lightning speed. Within minutes, she adjusted to their faster pace and more physical style. And by the time they hit the half hour mark, every bit of rust had worn off.

“You sure you didn’t play in college?” One woman called out to her from a few feet away after she blocked one of Liz’s pass attempts and launched the ball down the field.

Sam grinned as Liz ran beside her, shoving her in the shoulder.

“I let you have that one,” she grumbled, the competitive playfulness clear in her tone.

With every play, Liz pushed harder, her movements sharp and unrelenting as they grappled for control of the ball. The tension between them escalated, each tackle becoming more aggressive than the last. And when the ball came sailing their way again, Liz grabbed a fistful of Sam’s jersey, yanking her sideways as she surged forward.

Sam stumbled, her footing slipping for just a second before she caught herself and bolted after her. Liz reached the ball first, but Sam was close behind.

Their hips collided hard as Sam leaned in. Liz grunted, throwing her weight against her, but Sam held her ground, refusing to give even an inch.

The ball sprang loose, rolling a few precious inches ahead.

And then Sam saw her opening.

She stepped forward, cutting across Liz’s path. But just as she moved, Liz shoved backwards, swinging an arm wildly as she tried to regain control.

Sam barely registered what happened before Liz’s elbow smashed into her brow with a sickening thud.

The pain was instant—sharp and blinding. It radiated through her face as her vision went white for a split second.

She staggered, instinctively lifting a hand to her right eye as she squeezed it shut against the sting.

“Shit,” she hissed as the dull throb rippled beneath her skin.

She heard a woman’s muffled yell somewhere nearby.“What the hell, Jacobs?”

Sam let herself pause for a moment, although she could see everyone around her continuing the play, with Liz running down the field after the ball.

She pulled her hand away, glancing at the smear of red stained against her fingertips.Luckily, it was less than she’d expected, which probably meant it was just a minor gash and wouldn’t need stitches.

She lifted her shirt, wiping the blood and sweat from her brow before jogging forward to rejoin the game.

Liz cut a quick pass to a teammate, the ball gliding seamlessly across the field as they started to connect a series of sharp, clean touches. Sam followed closely, shadowing Liz’s movements, her eye narrowing as the opposing player lined up for a shot.

The ball sailed through the air, a little too high, cutting an arc a few feet above the crossbar.

The play halted as one of the defenders broke off to chase the ball down. Sam slowed to a stop, exhaling through her nose as she wiped her face again.

“Halftime?” one person called out to the rest of the players on the field, and they all nodded or offered breathless, mumbled responses.

Sam braced her hands on her knees, breathing hard. A light tickle traced her cheek, and she swiped a hand up to brush away the thin line of blood trailing down toward her jaw.

She straightened up, ignoring the sting as she turned and ambled off the field to where she’d left her backpack and water bottle.

As she neared the sideline, she caught sight of Jess striding toward her.

“Let me see,” she commanded, her face set in a stony expression.

Sam resisted the urge to laugh at her intensity. “It’s nothing,” she said, grabbing her water off the ground.

Jess stepped up to her, lifting a hand. Then it paused in midair, as she seemed to catch herself before dropping it back down to her side.

Instead, she moved to Sam’s side, leaning in to inspect her brow.

“Sorry,” Liz’s voice cut through the moment, jogging toward them with an unapologetic grin. “I forgot you’re not used to the way we play.”

Sam hummed, taking a sip of her water.

She didn’t mind the hard play. If anything, she actually preferred it. She enjoyed having a clear goal and fighting brutally to get it. And she enjoyed having Liz to play against. Someone who wouldn’t give her any easy breaks.

“If that’s the most you learned playing in college,” Sam said, “then I don’t think I missed out on much.”

Liz laughed as she sprayed water into her mouth. “Oh, that’s nothing. I was just warming up.”

Sam smirked, taking another drink of her water as Jess looked back and forth between them, not one ounce of amusement adorning her face.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You wanna sit out the second half?”

Sam shot her a flat look.

“Just saying,” Jess mumbled, although her tone still held a sharp edge. “That’s not gonna stop bleeding if you keep running around out there.”

Sam grunted a laugh. “Don’t try to pretend like you wouldn’t keep playing if that happened to you.”

Jess’ mouth pressed into a firm line as she glanced out at the field. “You could have a concussion.”

This time, it was Liz who laughed. “If she did, it wouldn’t be anything new.”

Jess looked back at her, eyes questioning.

Liz swallowed down another gulp of water before continuing. “You think I’m too physical when I play, but you should’ve seen this one,” she threw a nod at Sam, “when we were kids.”

Sam averted her gaze, already knowing which memories Liz was recalling. And they weren’t the ones she was particularly keen on sharing.

Liz laughed again, shaking her head. “Wasn’t just on the field either. Man, I can’t even count how many times she picked fights with the kids at the school down the street from ours.” Liz snorted another laugh that grated on her nerves. “My mom would get so pissed at us every time we got home and Sam had some new injury that was bad enough she’d have to take her to urgent care to get checked out.”

Sam swallowed, heat rising in her cheeks.

She’d more or less blocked out those particular memories. The ones that would’ve probably made her hard for any parent to want.

Liz was right. Maybe she really could understand why her parents hadn’t wanted to take her in after her mom died.

“Guess that’s one thing that’s changed,” Liz said with a dry chuckle. “You don’t seem as pissed off as you were back then.”

Sam looked up finally, forcing a small smile of acknowledgment on her lips. “Guess so.”

She avoided looking at Jess as Liz stepped away, talking to some of the other players. A few yards behind her stood Tiana, completely absorbed in conversation with the woman who’d walked by them before the game.

“Looks like she’s having fun,” Sam muttered with a chuckle, trying to break through the leftover air of the prior conversation.

Jess hummed in acknowledgment, but kept her serious demeanor.

A twinge of anxiety ran through Sam’s chest, and she shifted the weight on her feet as a distraction. The thought of Jess imagining her as some rage-filled burden of a kid—the worst version of herself—was enough to send her brain reeling for a distraction.

She scratched the back of her neck, opening her mouth to say something—anything. But Jess beat her to it.

“I have something for you,” she said, her face completely neutral as she turned, stepping toward a backpack on the ground.

Sam waited as Jess unzipped it and pulled a manilla folder out of the pocket before turning back around.

She held it out, nodding once. “I can email this all to you too, if that’s easier.”

Sam took the folder and flipped it open, scanning over the neatly organized pages inside.

“It’s a more detailed breakdown of some of the stuff we went over last week.”

She skimmed over the first page, quickly reading the headings.

“Look it over whenever you have time,” Jess continued. “Then when you’re ready, let me know and we can meet about it and finalize everything.”

Sam nodded, raising her shirt to wipe away a trickle of blood that rolled down onto her cheek.

“Ready, Hayes?” a woman on her team called out. She looked up to see her walking back out onto the field, along with most of the others.

She nodded, then turned back to Jess with an appreciative smile. “Thank you for doing this.”

Jess gave her a tight nod, her eyes locking once more on the cut on her brow.

Sam crouched, tucking the folder carefully into her backpack before dropping her water bottle beside it. She swiped a hand over her face, wiping away the last trace of blood and sweat.

Jess cleared her throat beside her. “Try not to get hurt in the second half,” she said, not meeting her eyes. “Otherwise the bloods gonna stain your shirt.”