31. Wyatt

Chapter 31

Wyatt

All I do is play soccer and use the translate app on my phone. I've been down here for three weeks and already got kicked out of my Spanish class because I kept getting lost and showing up late. I get that I can't be disrupting the other students. I've only got myself to blame.

There's one or two guys on the team who speak enough English to give me shit on the field and joke around a bit, but I miss my cousins. I miss Pittsburgh and being near water. This is the farthest I've ever been from a river for any real length of time. I had no idea how much it impacted my sense of place.

But the soccer is good. Really fucking good. And nothing compares to that feeling of hearing the announcer say my name—Wyatt Moyer—to a sold-out stadium full of rabid fans.

That's what I talk about when my parents call. I send them selfies of myself with kids who asked for my autograph. The first time it happened, I had this vivid memory of meeting my dad for the first time. Mom had gotten tickets to the Forge game, and he had just been signed. I wore that tiny, autographed jersey until I grew enough that the seams started to stretch.

By then, we lived together, and I could have had a thousand jerseys. But that first one felt so special. Someone famous took the time to talk to me. I try to keep that in mind, even if I can't understand half the words these kids say to me.

I'll get used to it.

I'm walking to my rental from the stadium after practice when my phone rings, and I see it's my Grand, so, of course, I pick it up. "I miss you so much," I blurt by way of greeting.

"Hey, guy, I miss you, too. Tell me, what trees you see?" Grand has a thing for hugging trees everywhere she goes, and she goes bonkers for species we don't see a lot in Pittsburgh.

I walk toward a leafy little guy and squint at it. "I don't know what half of these are called," I admit. "This one looks like … floppy?"

"Could it be a corn plant?" Grand sounds so curious, I can almost see her looking up the flora of my new city while we talk.

"I guess? I don't really know Grand."

"Well, you'll send me a picture later, I bet."

I chuckle. "Sure. I'm walking home from practice now."

"I took a guess you would be." I hear a tap turn on. "I had a nice meeting today with the LGBTQ faculty group. Lots of folks there from other departments."

"Oh yeah?" It's unusual for Grand to call me with these sorts of work specifics, even though I was a student at the school where she teaches.

"Mm hm. Professor Yoon was there."

I stop walking. "Is this about Fern?"

She hums. "Sort of. I did mention that they had had you as a student and that you're my grandson. They seemed surprised that you withdrew rather than take an incomplete to wrap up your degree after you get settled."

I adjust my bag to the other shoulder and switch the phone to my other ear. "Grand, I don't really care about the specifics of all that. I'll get it sorted eventually."

"I was wondering the same things as Jae-won, actually. I know we didn't get a chance to talk about school in all the hustle to get you to your new team."

I reach the hotel where I have a long-term rental set up while I'm supposed to be looking for apartments. I take the stairs up to my suite while Grand lists all the reasons a college education is important for everyone, especially when I'm just a few credits shy.

"Look," I tell her, clicking the door shut and flipping the deadbolt. "It was the easiest way for me to get on the road quickly," I lie. The truth is withdrawing from school was worlds easier for Fern. If I made it so I was no longer her student, there was no chance for repercussions from the BuzzTalk article.

Although, Brian tells me the writer and editor are getting slammed and someone from the university is in trouble for releasing information about me. Who knew I had federal rights to privacy about my enrollment?

"Well," Grand continues, "Jae-won and I also have a student in common. Fern."

"I forgot you had Fern in class this semester." I sink onto the edge of the bed, trying not to put my grandmother on speaker so I can look at photos of Fern on my phone.

"Yeah. She's doing some really cool interdisciplinary work with advanced pattern modeling and art forgery identification. I'm writing her a letter of introduction for someone at her graduate program in London."

My heart swells at that, the idea of Fern getting a leg up. I like that it's based on something she did with her own incredible brain and work ethic. Nothing to do with me pulling strings or swinging my family name around. Fern probably likes that, too. "I'm sure she's going to be a rockstar over there," I mutter.

Grand hums again. "Well, I'll let you go. I'm supposed to remind you that the Stag herd is flying down for your match against Cruz Azul, and your Uncle Tim wants to have a board game night afterward."

I scoff. "Sure. Let's sling colored tiles around while the fam is on vacation."

Grand laughs. "Azul is a fun game. But I think you're right that the beach would be a better choice."

"Are you and Lolly coming down with them?" I can't figure out if I hope she is or isn't … I want to grill her for more information about Fern but also avoid all discussion of her until she's settled into her fellowship and safely funded where she needs to be.

"Nah. Gotta get ready for finals. Love you, Wyatt."

"Love you, too."

The next few days are a blur of training, film, and trying to understand what Coach is asking of me. The team here has a very specific style of play, really aggressive offensively, and I'm up to the challenge. I just … am slow to process the strategy through the language barrier.

So, I'm mentally exhausted when I walk back to the hotel the night before the match and totally unprepared to find my family sprawled out in my suite.

"The hell?" I barely get the curse out before I'm bombarded by hugs and hair ruffles. Even my sister wedges herself in for a hug. "Shouldn't you be in Palo Alto? I thought you have camp?"

Birdie shakes her head. "You got your weeks messed up, dude. I had this next week off to be home for your senior night stuff …" She shrugs, and Mom gives her a side hug.

"We're all excited to spend time with you here and see you play, babe." Mom stretches up to kiss my cheek, and I bend over to let her.

My cousin Wes and his girlfriend, Cara, are sprawled on my sofa, watching a British Premier League match on the television on mute. "We've both got a bye week," he says without looking away from the screen.

I grin, happy to see my space full of family, even if it's a little shady that someone from the staff let them in here. I guess my parents have sway with fans of La Liga. Dad pushes off the wall, waiting until everyone peels off me to give me one of his crushing hugs, lifting me in the air with a grunt. "Wow. I keep forgetting you're big now."

I grin, wrapping my arms around his waist and lifting him easily. We both laugh as I set him down, and he says, "All right, all right. Show off."

I show them the view from my window—boring apart from the trees Grand cooed over. I show them my gear, feeling a swell of pride just seeing the name MOYER in glossy white vinyl on the back of my practice jersey. My game kit will be hanging in my locker when I get to the stadium, and I like that they'll see that, too.

But Mom looks wistful, and Wes barely glances away from the game. Which, to be fair, is tied with just a few minutes of injury time remaining. Birdie tells me she ordered room service since she and my cousins are on a meal plan. I am supposed to be, too, but I've been slipping a little now that I have access to incredible street tacos.

We cram around the table, and my family is oddly quiet and polite. "You guys are acting weird," I tell them around a mouth full of corn.

Dad and Mom exchange a glance and she sighs, reaching for my hand. "We talked to Grand, you know. We hadn't realized you withdrew from school."

I point at Wes, who never even finished his senior year. "We already went through all this with him last year. My body only has so many years to do this kind of work. Dad, you didn't finish school, either!"

He nods. "You're right. But I also never dropped out to protect someone from a publicity scandal incited by a criminal in violation of his no-contact order."

"Wait, what? Nick was behind this?" I throw my napkin across the table, feeling nauseated at the thought of that man somehow determining my life path in any way.

Mom closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "He tipped off the reporter. He was able to speak with the admissions office, too, since he had your personal information." She points a finger at the ceiling. "But your Aunt Juniper and your dad's foundation are mandating training for any public-facing university employees, reminding them about the rules and who is allowed to access student data."

I rock back on my chair, tugging on my hair. I thought I was past all this mess. The stress of it creeps up and over me, not quite to the level where I had that panic attack back in Pittsburgh…but not far from it.

Dad squeezes my arm. "I want to say a few things, okay? First of all, you know I started my career in the UK. The competition is excellent, the coaching is world-class, and there's no language barrier for you."

I bristle at his mention of the UK. I stare at him and Mom, wondering how much they know about Fern and if it's weird to feel excited about this suggestion.

Dad folds his hands on the table and continues. "The shared language would be really useful when you're working on your mental game." He points to his head. "Your mother and I feel sick that we didn't check in with you about your past, what you've been through."

I growl. "I'm over all that. You did your part. I had therapy for years." I'm not really over it … I'm just distracted by thoughts of moving closer to Fern without any risks to her career. But she hasn't reached out, and she told me she wanted space. She might not appreciate me showing up in town with my caravan of issues.

Wes snorts. "Dude, I'm in therapy now. I don't know how anyone would deal with the pressure of pro-sports without therapy, and that's without someone trying to sabotage my life."

Cara smiles sadly and nods. "Also, in therapy. And, you know, someone did try to sabotage my life. So, I'm here if you ever want to talk about that."

"I definitely don't want to talk about it. I came here to forget about all of that. Look, I appreciate that you're all concerned about school, and I definitely appreciate that you're behind me with legal resources. I can't wait to play tomorrow with you here. Family is everything to me. You all know that."

Dad crosses his arms, and Mom leans her head on his shoulder. "You can't run away from those challenges, Wyatt. They're faster than you, and they have more endurance. The only way to slay those dragons is to sit down with them and talk through it. With professional support."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Coach." I leave the table and head into my bedroom, slamming the door.

Eventually, I hear my family head out of my room, leaving me alone with the clawing, sickening realization that they're right. About all of it. I fucking know I need to get my head straight about all this stuff with Nick, and I have no idea why I'm reeling at the thought of starting up therapy again.

That's a lie. I know it's hard work and exhausting, and they're right that I'm using all my extensive energy on my game and navigating a new space where I can't even read the menus at restaurants. If I'm honest, I'm not trying too hard to assimilate here. At least half of my sour mood stems from missing the competent, kind, and sexy-as-hell math genius whose life I almost blew up. I pull out my phone and stare at a picture I snapped of us at the ski house. My heart lurches in my chest, missing her. Is it even possible for me to transfer to the same city as Fern without pissing her off?

I search her name online and smile, reading the profile her university put up about her interests in … advanced math words I don't know how to pronounce. London is a big place, and I'll be traveling fifty percent of the time. If she tells me to fuck off, I can disappear from her life just as easily there as I can here. But what if she's happy to see me? What if things could be better once both of us have a stronger foundation?

I wait a few hours to see if any of this starts to feel ridiculous, but the opposite happens. I start to get excited about the potential of a transfer. Of a change in plans that might bring me near the best woman I've ever met.

I text Brian to see if there's space in my contract to put me on loan.