56. Fallon

We spend Sunday in Corey’s bed, stripped bare, revealing more than our skin—our vulnerabilities are on full display as he shares how terrified he was when Vic called and how difficult it had been to see Anna so sick again. I share my concerns about what will happen tomorrow at practice when I have to face Becca, and see Coach Mackenzie for the first time since being recruited. Despite the anxious knot in my stomach, I don’t regret leaving Spain. Not even for a second.

I wake up before my alarm goes off.

Despite two orgasms, a full belly of Greek takeout, and being nestled in Corey’s arms in his insanely comfortable bed, I slept restlessly, waking up multiple times and replaying the confrontation with Becca at the beach and how I could have handled it differently.

Corey rakes his fingers gently down my spine. “Do you want to try and get a little more rest?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.” His fingers are whispers over my skin, etching promises and declarations that I know I’ll be working to remember today.

“I’d know if they pulled me from the team, right? The coaching staff would have called or requested a meeting.”

“They won’t cut you. You’re going to kick ass today.” He kisses my shoulder. “Get dressed while I grab breakfast. How many carbs do you need? Will you be conditioning?”

“I’m assuming we will.”

“And that will cause adrenaline, which will make you run higher?”

“Theoretically…” Diabetes has too many nuances ever to be so cut and dry.

Corey runs his fingers along the length of my arm. “If you want to take a shower, washcloths and towels are in the hall closet. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and rolls out of bed before tugging on a pair of sweatpants and a clean tee.

I try to call on alternative Fallon as I push myself into autopilot and step into his shower, focusing on how many first practices I”ve had with a new coaching staff. I can do this.

Once showered, I braid my wet hair and get dressed. I’m wearing Camden colors today, and it has me itching with discomfort, wondering how many eye rolls I’ll receive before we start.

The front door opens and closes, followed by the rustle of bags, which distracts me from second-guessing whether I should change.

Corey turns as I enter the main room and his gaze skates down the front of me. A smile forms on his lips before he meets my eyes. “You look damn good as a Knight.”

I roll my eyes, but my heart doesn’t get the memo of sarcasm, racing as I approach the table.

“I got breakfast sandwiches, fruit, smoothies, and some stuff for you to take, in case you need it later, or don’t get a chance to come back here for lunch.” He moves a tray filled with drinks, placing a coffee in front of me.

I drink it first, convinced I’m too nervous to eat, but somehow, I force down the carbs I’ll need to sustain my blood sugar.

My stomach feels like it’s filled with rocks as Corey and I gather our bags and leave the safety of his dorm. We pass a couple of football players on our way to the stairs, who nod and give a tired greeting. We descend the stairs silently, but Corey turns to face me when we reach the bottom. “You’re going to kick ass, Fallon. Don’t hold back today.” His fingers wrap around my throat, and he pulls me toward him. He kisses me long and hard, then slowly releases me. “I love you, and I’ll see you in class.”

While I continue toward the fields, Corey cuts to the right, heading for Bia Stadium. I’m the first to arrive at the facility, aside from the trainer, who eyes me like a liability the second I introduce myself.

“You haven’t had any sugar today, right? I don’t want to have to worry about you having a seizure on me.” I can’t tell if she’s joking.

For the next twenty-five minutes, I explain diabetes, my pump, and CGM, and the assurance I’ve never passed out or needed a trainer to step in to assist me, only pass me a juice box on occasion.

She remains skeptical as she heads for her office, but that’s par for the course. I’ve had practicing nurses and doctors look at me with the same level of unease and doubt that I’m convinced comes with the territory of rare diseases.

Others have begun arriving, filling the small space.

“Hey,” Kelly says, stopping at my side. She twists her Camden tee between her fingers. “I know we texted, and you said things were fine, but I just want to apologize again. Also, I got your two hundred bucks back.” She pulls some folded bills from her pocket and hands them to me.

I take the cash and tuck it into my bag.

“I swear, I didn’t know they moved your car,” she tells me again.

I nod, and though the impulse to tell her all is forgiven and forgotten, the words don’t form.

“When we got back to the house that night, everyone was so freaked out. I think tempers and adrenaline just took over the next day. You know?” she continues when I don’t offer an assurance.

I think about that night at Corey’s beach house, with his group of friends—our friends—gathered in the dining room, and how we’d faced the most risk by staying the longest, ensuring everyone was out and safe, and still everyone was mostly calm, accepting, even understanding.

“Yeah, I get that. I just don’t quite understand how I became the fall person for everything,” I admit.

Kelly nods too quickly. “Pops pleaded your case, but I think that caused the opposite effect. He was pretty pissed at Becca and Aiko and refused to stay at the house. He and Aiko broke up.”

I don’t know either of them well enough to warrant my surprise.

“The football team is pretty tight, so it makes sense, especially since you’re with Callum. I heard some of the guys called Pops and laid into him.”

Her words hit me like a charge, nearly sweeping my feet out from under me.

“I need to tell you something,” I say.

Her light brows inch higher on her forehead.

“I’m not with Callum. I like Corey.”

She winces.

So do I. “I like him a lot. I actually met him back in May and liked him then, and have been trying not to since meeting you and you told me you had feelings for him. I’m really sorry. I never wanted to hurt you?—”

Kelly shakes her head, cutting me off. She looks slightly crestfallen but thankfully not homicidal. “I kind of assumed. No one does the work in Gaines’s class.”

I nearly admit I would’ve even if Corey hadn’t been my partner but decide now isn’t the time to be literal. “I’m really sorry. I’ve felt terrible about it and wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how without you thinking I was a jerk.”

She pulls in a deep breath through her nose. “I should have known when I saw the way he looked at you.” She offers a tight-lipped smile. “You should pursue him. He’s a good guy and he deserves to be happy.”

It feels like a fifty-pound weight has been removed from my chest, but just as I’m able to breathe, Becca strides into the locker room and pins that weight back down with one scathing look.

Coach Mackenzie follows close behind her. My heart hammers painfully against the wall of my chest, fearing the worst and all the things Becca might have said.

Coach Mackenzie meets my gaze, and she walks directly toward me, drawing out each of my heavy pulses. She’s in her early forties, with dark hair that is beginning to streak gray and light brown eyes that crease when she smiles, which is most of the time.

“Glad to see you, Hale.” She offers me her hand, and I take it, entering a time-lapse, recalling the day I’d signed my contract to become a Knight. “As I’m sure you’ve realized, we handle things a little differently than Westfield. There’s no competition board here. I don’t want you to feel like you have to compete against anyone. Camden knows soccer’s a team sport, and individual talents can’t win a game.” The irony in her words has me speechless and wholly confused. At Westfield, we operated with a continuous scoreboard that often pitted team members against one another. Everything was a competition, and everyone was ranked. You fought for your position, and then you fought to keep it. She’s right; it didn’t do much for building unity and trust, but Becca’s been kneecapping me and keeping me on the outskirts of the team since day one, far more intense than the board ever had.

“I respect that,” I tell her.

Coach Mackenzie nods. “I’d like to meet with you and Becca after practice. We have some things to discuss.”

Panic encases my heart. I struggle to listen as Coach Mackenzie greets the team, offering a speech that’s likely filled with inspiration and goals for our upcoming season.

When we break, she dismisses us to the track for conditioning.

I focus on each step and breath, ignoring the unease that pulses through me whenever someone moves away from me.

No one seems to know how to interact with me today, whether because of what happened at the beach or because Becca’s ignoring me like I’m not here.

“There we go,” Coach Mackenzie says, looking up from where she’s speaking to our two assistant coaches. “Good hustle, Jones! Hale, way to set the pace.”

It’s the first time running that I don’t pace myself and stick to the middle of the group.

“Five minutes and we go again!” Taylor, the assistant coach who is running the stopwatch, warns us. We converge around the coolers, getting water and chilled towels in an attempt to abate the July sun that is currently telling June to hold its beer.

We’re too tired to talk and too hot and sweaty to stand together. I down half of a sports drink in one pull.

Soccer is a sprinting game, but it’s also about longevity. We have to train for endurance and bursts, which has us currently swapping between single-lap sprints and five-lap jogs.

I suck in a ragged breath and get back on the line, feeling the drag in my muscles. Aiko is a couple of feet away. I’ve barely seen her, and as she turns her swollen eyes away from me, it’s clear that’s been intentional.

“I’m dying,” Kelly says, getting into position next to me and staring at the clear sky like it’s her nemesis. “My sweat is sweating.”

I grin, but a hesitation exists between us that wasn’t there prior to the beach trip. I don’t know if it will ever go away entirely.

Taylor warns the others that it’s time to line up before I have to debate a reply, and then we’re running again. I’m relieved for conditioning because it allows me to focus on things I know how to do without question or thought for the next couple of hours.

My bones feel like rubber as I get out of the shower and dress once practice concludes. My dread of meeting with Coach Mackenzie and Becca is aided by the reminder that I’m seeing Corey in another hour in our last shared media class.

I knock twice on Coach’s office door.

“Come in,” she calls.

Becca is already seated across from her, wearing shorts and a clean Camden tee.

“Please have a seat.” Coach Mackenzie gestures to the empty seat beside Becca.

I try to read the room and their expressions as I take the empty chair.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks.

My stomach feels like it’s being squeezed in half.

“I hope that trip to Spain helped,” Coach Mackenzie adds.

I kind of wish the floor would open and swallow me whole.

Coach grins mirthlessly. “I heard you turned them down.”

“I wasn’t drafted.”

“By what I’ve heard, you would’ve been.”

My pride knocks on doubt’s door, questioning if I did the right thing by turning them down, but just as quickly, my heart offers an entire list of assurances.

“Why’d you come back?” Coach Mackenzie asks, sticking a chewed pen between her teeth.

“Because I want to learn everything you can teach me.” I know I sound like I’m kissing her ass. I kind of am, but I’m also being a hundred percent honest. Coach Mackenzie is a force and I realized there are things I still need to learn.

It takes everything inside of me not to glance at Becca.

Coach Mackenzie levels me with a stare. “You turn your back on them again, and you’re done. Understood?”

I nod. “I’ll be here until graduation.”

She places both hands on her desk and leans back. “Good, because we’re going to need you to win the College Cup.” She looks at Becca and then me. “You’re a damn good player, Hale. One of the best in the league. Hell, you’re one of the best players I’ve watched. Period. But you’ve been this team’s enemy for the past two years. So, the question is, how are you going to convince them to see you as a leader and their co-captain instead of their enemy?”

Co-captain.

The word echoes in my thoughts and has every muscle in my body contracting.

Without looking at Becca, I know Coach Mackenzie has just taped a bullseye on my back.