58. Fallon

As I step outside for practice, rain falls by the bucketful. The humidity is so high that it’s difficult to breathe. However, it won’t shorten our practice. I head to the track, where we hold our morning conditioning to build our stamina.

It’s been two weeks since our coaching staff returned, and we only have nine practices until our first game. Our practices are untimed, guaranteeing entire days at the field.

A few of the women on the team acknowledge me, but most seem content with pretending I’m not here.

Becca leads that party. I can’t tell if she’s waiting to get revenge or waiting to see if I’ll crack as the team continues to freeze me out of plays.

Zoe and Stacy on the other hand, still despise me and make no effort to hide it.

Through our first hour of conditioning, I exert every ounce of my energy, working to prove I’m better than they want to admit—good enough to be the damn co-captain Coach has named me.

When they announce we’re scrimmaging today, excitement percolates through my muscles. We haven’t scrimmaged since before the beach.

This time, Coach Mackenzie and Taylor split the teams.

Zoe’s eyes shine with anticipation. Like me, she thrives on competition. “I hope you don’t break an ankle,” she whispers menacingly.

Her cloaked threat erases my plans to play a chivalrous game. Instead, I ensure she doesn’t keep pace with me—can’t. I become a one-person team, taking control of the ball and the field, playing my game, and not giving a single fuck what any of them think. If they want to pretend like I’m not here, I’ll return the favor.

My first goal is off a steal, and my second has the ball flying so fast that our keeper doesn’t have time to block it.

I don’t slow down.

I refuse to stop.

Zoe isn’t even in my shadow when I score my third goal, and I taunt her with my ball-handling skills on the fourth just to remind her I could dominate her any goddamn day.

The whistle blows, and despite my heavy breaths and sweat-slickened hair, I don’t want to stop. I want to keep playing and show Zoe—show them all—that they can’t beat me. After nearly two months, I’m still here, still working my ass off.

Coach Mackenzie walks over to me, eyebrows raised under her baseball hat as the sun blazes down on us. “I think they get it.”

I turn in the direction of my team, scanning over their expressions that range from shocked, to curious, to infuriated.

“When I said to prove yourself to them, I was referring to trust, not dominance,” Coach adds.

Injustice rings in my blood. I want to yell that I am the only one making an effort to be on this team, and they’re the ones who refuse to accept me.

I want to laugh.

I want to freaking cry.

But I nod and try to embody the studious and gracious player I’ve been trained to be, regardless of the tread marks stinging my skin.

As practice continues, I turn it down a few decibels, looking for open lanes and passing to test how my teammates do under pressure so I know how they’ll react in a game when it matters. Still, as Zoe gets too close and cocky, I rise to the challenge and prove to her why I’m here. Her anger makes her sloppy, and her breaths are battle cries as I dribble the ball up the field, going left because I’m stronger on my right, and the entire conference knows that.

I change my speed and crossover when she tries to find an opening, her forearm pressed against my middle. If she were one of my brothers, I’d be taunting her, but I don’t mock her with words, only my movements.

Zoe tries to keep up by pinning me with her forearm, but I spin, losing her that easily, and run faster. She screeches in frustration and hits me with her elbow before kicking out my feet.

The hard fall steals my breath as I lie prone for only a second, barely catching my breath before I shoot up, fearing she might jump on me or try to break my ankle like she threatened.

Zoe takes a step closer to me, and I can’t tell if she’s daring me to retaliate or debating shoving me again.

Coach Mackenzie blows her whistle in two quick bursts. “What in the hell was that, Thompson?”

My ribs feel stiff and my lungs sharp as I keep my focus on Zoe.

“Walk it off, Hale,” Coach Mackenzie orders.

The idea of submitting to Zoe is less appealing than eating a grubworm.

“Hale,” Coach says my name again, and I hear the warning in her tone.

I turn, hating that tears form in my eyes before I can blink them away.

Becca is a few feet away, staring at us. I lower my shoulder and don’t make any attempt to slow or move around her, refusing to yield even if it’s by stepping around her.

“Get some water and cool down,” Coach says to my back.

The air remains tense as everyone moves to the sidelines.

I can feel a bruise forming beneath my kidney as I sit on the bench beside my locker after practice, trying to remind myself that staying here was the right decision.

“Zoe and Hale, stick around,” Becca says.

Kelly gives me a hopeful smile. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you’re on our team this year?”

I release a quiet scoff inclined to point out it won’t matter if everyone keeps pretending like I’m not on the team, but I’m too exhausted to move or respond. I haven’t even showered yet. My blood sugar has been low for the past hour, causing me to consume my weight in juice and sports drinks.

I was positive I was going to puke fruit punch across the field on more than one occasion.

Our trainer pulled me off the field long enough for me to confirm I wasn’t in danger of falling into a coma and for me to eat a high-carb, protein granola bar, and then I went back out.

I’m still low and sweaty, and my muscles are so fatigued I don’t think I can sit up without the help of the wall behind me.

Aiko stops beside me. “Do you need an ice pack?”

I shake my head.

She releases a shallow breath, looking so nervous it makes my own pulse race. “I want to apologize for that night at the bar. You were being really decent, and I...” She swallows. “I shouldn’t have let them think it was your fault.”

I’m about to tell her it’s water under the bridge and all is forgotten, but I swallow those people-pleasing words and study her expression, searching for honesty.

“I talked to Becca after you left the beach house, but I realized the damage had been done.” She licks her lips, still visibly uncomfortable as she glances around. “I’ll talk to her again. Keeping you as an asset is way better than having you as a rival.”

I raise my brow. “Was that a compliment?”

Her laugh builds and then slowly fades. “Welcome to the team, Hale.” She shifts her bag higher on her shoulder and heads for the exit.

Liza peers at me from where she’s slipping her practice cleats into her locker and flashes me a shy smile.

I don’t dare put too much hope or faith into these fragile exchanges, but for the first time, the promise of being accepted and having teammates I can trust on the field feels almost possible.

When the last person on the team leaves, I glance at Zoe. She’s dressed in shorts and a tank top, leaning against the lockers, looking painfully bored. She refuses to acknowledge me, which only makes me stare harder.

Maybe people-pleasing is a part of my past, just like Tobias and Westfield.

“Why are you staring at me, freakshow?” Zoe finally snaps.

“If we’re here because I told Zoe to work on her ball control, I stand by my statement.” I flick my attention to Becca, who stands between the two of us. Like me, she’s still in her practice clothes, but she’s standing while I’m still relying on the wall for support.

Zoe sneers.

Becca clears her throat and turns to look at Zoe. “I found out you paid the guy at the bar who started the fight.”

My heart beats erratically in my chest as I stare at Zoe, shocked and hurt that she would do something so low.

Zoe stares at Becca. “It was just a prank.”

“We both crossed the line,” Becca says, “But what you did was incomprehensible, and today you proved you won’t stop. I’m sorry, but you’re off the team.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Zoe pushes away from the locker. “You’re going to choose her over me? I’ve been your best friend for three years.”

“You’re forcing my hand. You took things too far. Besides, we need her help to win.”

Her words serve as a reminder that Becca’s not my friend, not even my ally. I stare at her, but she doesn’t acknowledge me, and I realize her allowing me to be here is likely the only sign of respect I’ll receive from her tonight.

“She stole my starting position,” Zoe seethes.

“And if you stuck to the script, you might have had a chance of getting it back,” Becca snaps.

“Like you would just sit back and let someone steal your place,” Zoe accuses. “We both know you’d have found an excuse to cut her by now if it put you at risk.”

“No. I’d be showing up every damn day and proving how good I was, just like Hale has.” Becca waves a hand in my direction.

Zoe’s gaze follows the direction, pinning me to the wall with another sneer.

“She’s not worth this. This is our team. I’m supposed to be the co-captain.”

“You did this, Zoe. You put us in this position.”

“So this is it? This is what our friendship means to you? You’re going to kick me off the team after everything?”

“Clean out your locker. I spoke with Coach, and she’s given you forty-eight hours to pack up your dorm.”

Zoe shrieks, but tears cascade down her cheeks. “I hope you break your fucking femur this season.” She storms out of the locker room, leaving my ears ringing.

It’s silent for several seconds as Becca refuses to meet my stare.

I slowly amble upright, deciding to shower in my dorm.

“Hale,” Becca says as I reach the door.

I hesitate long enough to look back over one shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to like me, but this bullshit is over. You have to respect me as a player if this is going to work.”

She nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rain clings to me as I step outside, soaking through my T-shirt and making my hair stick to my face.

By the time I reach the dorm, I feel like a wet sock. Normally, I stick to the stairs, but with the late hour, my continued low, and my sopping disposition, I opt for the elevator, riding it up to the third floor. My flip-flops are slick as I step into the hall, replaying the conversation again in my head as I question what will happen tomorrow. Will Stacy and the others be upset that Zoe was cut? Will they blame me? Can Becca change her mind?

I have so many questions, but as I turn the corner, they cease as I spot a familiar, dark-haired stranger outside my door. He stands straighter, and I note the bag of takeout in his hands before recognizing the confusion and concern marring his brow.

“Jesus. Are you okay?” he asks, crowding closer. I smell cilantro and the unmistakable scent of his cologne that has me craving more. More skin. More contact. More kisses. It’s the same consuming desperation I’ve felt for him since that very first night when chance had our paths crossed.

“What happened? Where have you been?”

Becca’s words replay in my head. “What happened to the footage from the bar at the beach?”

His eyes sharpen.

“Why didn’t you tell me Zoe was involved? I didn’t even know you guys had watched it.”

Corey blows out a harsh breath. “Nolan did, and I was going to tell you because I’ve been fucking paranoid for the past two weeks that Zoe might plot something else, but I didn’t want you to know and feel hurt if Becca sat on her fucking hands and didn’t do jack shit. What happened?”

“She tripped me, and it was the final straw. Becca cut her from the team. Well, I’m sure our coach did, but she let Becca deliver the blow.”

Fury dances in Corey’s eyes as his attention snaps to the empty hall.

“It’s over,” I tell him. “And I’m fine.”

He slowly lowers his gaze to mine.

“I should have told you.”

I nod. “That’s right because we share all the personal details, even the shitty ones. It”s not just honesty but transparency.”

A grin slowly creeps over his full lips. “Any other rules?”

“Probably,” I repeat as I had that first night, only now, confidence steels my spine, and I don’t work to call on my alter ego. “Now that I know what you”re capable of, I might need to itemize them all, though.” I smile brazenly. ”Are you interested?”

Without another word, Corey”s kissing me, and I know that regardless of how difficult these past few months have been, I would do it again, every single second, as long as it led me back here to Corey because with him is exactly where I want to be—where I am meant to be.