23 - Lovebirds

23

Lovebirds

" A urora!"

I'm met with an onslaught of excited voices as I walk into the locker room. It's the first game I've been at since the injury. They had two away games and a bi-week between then and now, and though I'd been at every practice since starting physical therapy, game day is always different.

The brace is more of an annoyance at this point, but I walk steadily through. I still use the crutches more than not, but I wanted a break.

"Hi, girls." My smile is a bit forced. I'm still sad about not being out there with them, but I'm hoping they can't tell. "Ready for today?"

Thalia approaches me, grabbing my hands. "Better if you were out there with us." The captain's band is wrapped around her arm, the only one since I'm not there. They could've chosen another, but they didn't.

"You'll be great. You've been great without me, and you'll continue to be."

Thalia nods, a flush on her cheeks. Our team isn't very complimentary, more often reaching for jokes and sarcasm. But I mean every word.

The coaches exit the office, my father included, but I focus on Teller.

"Can I be on the sidelines today?"

Coach Teller's lips twitch. "Only place I'd have you if you're not on the field." Her eyes flicker between me and Dad. My stomach drops. "First, can I speak to you two? Laurel, get the girls out on the field for me?"

Fuck me . I do not want to get scolded by my coach. In front of my father, who happens to be my other coach. We follow her into the office, the door closing behind us. We stand almost six feet apart, so there's no chance of us having to interact.

Teller waits until the team exits. She leans on her desk, crossing her arms. "What exactly is happening here?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Don't play dumb with me, Aurora. I'm not blind. I've spoken to Coach Matthews here, and he insists everything is fine." Teller raises a brow, daring me to disagree.

This may not be the way other teams—other coaches—handle things, but Coach Teller has never liked playing completely by the book. And it's not often a player and a coach are related in the professional leagues. There isn't an instruction book for her to go off of.

"Everything is fine, Coach Teller."

My anxiety lands like a pit in my gut. I'm hyper aware of my father standing as still as a statue next to me. Anytime this happens between us, he acts like everything is fine. Like nothing could penetrate him. And I turn into an anxiety ridden pit. My body is begging me to fold and break down, to apologize, to talk to him. But not this time. I won't.

"Coach Matthews, can you go join Laurel please?"

From the corner of my eye, my dad gives a short nod and heads out the door.

"Sit down, Aurora," Coach Teller instructs, and I listen. "What exactly is going on?"

His silence when I begged him to tell me he was proud of me rings in my ears. The cold stare, the lack of emotion. It all comes rushing back.

"Coach, it's nothing. Just a fight between a dad and his daughter. It won't affect the team."

"I'm not worried about the team. I'm worried about you."

I sigh. "I promise I'm okay."

Coach Teller takes a deep breath. The look she gives me lets me know she doesn't believe me for a second. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry. But if you think I don't see the pressure you put on yourself, the pressure you carry, you're wrong. You're not just a player to me, Aurora; you're a person. And I can see what you're doing to yourself. Distractions, hyper focusing on things you can fix," she says, pointing to my knee. "I see through the act. I can see that you're struggling. I'm just worried about you, is all—with the injury, the team selection, and whatever the hell is happening between you and your father. I'm here for you if you need me. Not just as a coach but as someone who cares about you."

I hate that she's right. I hate that it feels suffocating to have someone outside my immediate circle care about me, that she's so easily able to see something is wrong.

"Thank you, Coach. I'm working on it." I twist my hands in my lap.

"Alright then. I'm taking your word for it for now." She holds out a hand and helps me up. "Let's get out there. Those girls have missed you."

Light from the field streams down the tunnel, and when I step onto the turf, it greets me soft and steady. Like getting on the couch under your favorite blanket. Even so, there's a sense of distance—a sense of loss not being able to play. An undercurrent of fear that when—if—I do come back, it won't be the same. That I won't be the same.

I know my team will welcome me back. But what if the game doesn't? Where will that leave me and my dad?

Where will that leave me?

Isaiah and I wait in the parking lot together before heading to Soph's for dinner.

His arm is hung over my shoulder, his fingers intertwined with mine as we lean against the car.

"You alright?" Isaiah murmurs against my temple, placing a kiss there.

"Can we talk about it later?"

He gives me a look but nods. "Of course."

I exhale, relaxing into his hold. My hand is snaked under his t-shirt, fingers splayed over his skin. Isaiah makes the rest of my life better, more manageable. But he can't help with how I feel about the field or the game or my place in it.

That's up to me, and I have a history of burying things until there's no more room left in the grave.

"I know you don't plan on coaching for years to come, but you looked pretty hot out there."

I snort, hitting his chest. "You're so dumb."

"I'm just saying, if you ever wanna practice on anyone—you know, being bossy or shouting orders—I'm happy to be of assistance." Isaiah places kisses on my neck, nipping the skin with his teeth as he goes.

I swallow, attempting to control my breathing, but he swipes his finger under my chin, tugging it upward. His lips hover above mine, our noses touching just so, until he kisses me soft and slow. I sigh into him, letting all the anxiety and the restlessness fall away so I don't miss a moment.

"Well, howdy do-da day. Look at this show we got over here, girlies." Maazina's voice is like a siren calling in the middle of the night. There is no ignoring it.

Isaiah laughs against my lips, his forehead falling to mine. "I'm worried she's batshit crazy."

"She's way past batshit. Really, she should be institutionalized at this point." I pull back as Maazina, Sylvia, and Vivian approach, all three wearing big smirks. Along with many of the girls lingering behind them, who heard Maazina's screech.

"Hiya, lovebirds."

I turn to Isaiah. "That's the last time I kiss you in public."

Isaiah huffs in disbelief, pinching my side, but stays quiet.

"I never thought I'd see the day." Sylvia pushes my cheeks together.

"Get off me," I try to say, but my words come out jumbled. When she does free me, I say, "Good game today. You guys are holding it down back there. Just like I expected."

"It's not the same without my sugar mama, but it'll do." Maazina beams, and Vivian chuckles.

"Sugar mama?" Isaiah asks, eyes shining with confusion.

"Don't ask," Vivian and I say at once.

I love that they feel comfortable enough to be themselves with Isaiah around. It's not that I expected them to ever hide or shrink themselves for him or for anyone really, but it can always be a bit strange when suddenly, there's a significant other around.

Maazina changes the subject. "So, what did Coach want to talk to you and your dad about?"

I lean on the single crutch. "She noticed something was off."

Vivian frowns. "Are you and your dad still not speaking?"

In my peripheral vision, Isaiah's eyes lock onto me. I haven't told him. It's not a huge deal but…his eyes are burning into the side of my head, regardless. "Nope."

"I'm sorry, Aurora," Viv says, reaching out to tug a curl by my cheek.

Shrugging, I say, "It's alright. Not much I can do about it, so please don't waste your time worrying about it. I don't want it to affect you at all. It'll work itself out." All three of the girls frown at my words but don't press.

Isaiah's hand grows firmer, fighting off some of the tension piling up in my gut. "Not to change the subject, but my birthday is coming up, and I was planning on having dinner with Aurora and her family. From what I know, you guys are part of her family, so would you like to come?"

Sylvia dramatically places her hand over her heart. "I would love that."

Vivian smiles. "I'd like that, as long as we wouldn't be intruding."

"Will her hot brother-in-law be there?" Maazina asks, catching Isaiah, who usually rolls with the punches, quite, well… off-guard.

"The married one?"

"That's the one."

"Um…. yes?" Isaiah turns to me. "Was that the appropriate answer?"

"There is never an appropriate answer for that one." I run a hand down my face and find Maazina smiling as usual.

Isaiah chuckles. "I'll have her pass on all the information."

"Sounds perfect."

"We have to get going but, seriously, good game." I call them in for a group hug, like we do on the field, and my heart swells.

"We miss you out there," Viv says, patting my back.

"I'll be back."

We pull away, and they make their way to any lingering family or friends before heading to their own cars. A breeze wraps around me and Isaiah, brushing against our skin. He turns my cheek, bringing our eyes together.

"Your dad?"

"I'm sorry. It's not that I'm keeping it from you. I just haven't wanted to talk about it."

Isaiah nods. "I understand that. But can you tell me about it later? If you're able."

It makes my heart ache that he cares about how it might make me feel. It's the bare minimum, I know, but it's just not something I give myself. It's nice.

"Yeah, I can do that." I lean up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. On the other side of the parking lot, I see the man himself making his way over to his car. "It's stupid, but part of me wants to go over there."

Isaiah's eyes darken. He's always on edge about my dad. More concerned with me than what my dad would ever think of him. I assume it'd be similar if Elijah ever came back.

"It's not stupid, but do you think it'll make you feel better?"

My smile is sad. "No. Not at all."

"Why don't you save it for another day?" he asks, running a finger down the side of my face.

Across the mostly empty parking lot, my dad throws his bags in the car. He turns, as if he can sense me staring at him, and looks in this direction. Isaiah's other hand tightens on my waist, his fingers splaying over the skin under my shirt. Even though I can't see my father's eyes, I feel the glare from here. Can imagine the coldness in them. The palpable disappointment. Neither of us wave or make a single movement. We just…stare at each other. It stings that he is seemingly okay without me.

He did this to my mom when they were together, to me and Sophia growing up. Shutting down instead of talking. Shutting us out and giving us the silent treatment and turning us into the villains, even though we were the ones that broke and apologized. But as a kid, I never understood why Mom would get so angry, why she was so hurt—usually, as a kid, I understood him more, and now, I understand her perfectly. Because her fate has become mine.

Being Daddy's little girl didn't save me. It just prolonged the inevitable.

Maybe the love my dad has for me has conditions. And maybe I'll never be able to meet them.

I swallow and look away—look back to Isaiah, who is the solid ground beneath my rocky feet.

"Yeah, I can do that. Let's just get to Soph's."

Isaiah takes a long look at me as if he can see all the fragile, sharp edges I've been hiding. I've always kept them sharp to keep people out. To keep people that are more likely to leave from seeing the vulnerable parts. Isaiah looks at me like he'd walk across broken glass just to get to me. Like if I was on the edge of a cliff, he'd go with me just so I wasn't alone.

I'd do the same for him, so I recognize it.

Love is so strange.

The idea that we'd bleed ourselves dry to keep the other person safe. The way in which their needs, their wants, their emotions become yours. For a while, I thought the love we had for each other died. I hoped it did, so I could move on. But it didn't.

It'd been buried under the dirt, un-watered and neglected. But it never died. Now, the sun is back, its rays landing on something that was once beautiful, that seems as if it will be beautiful again. And it's slowly starting to bloom again.

Maybe, some of the petals of what was once a strong relationship I had with my dad are dying. Those petals dry and brittle.

But Isaiah and me—that will never die. From here on out, it's clear to me we won't let it.

So, let the rest of the world fall apart. Let the foundation crack. This love remains.