36 - The Big Guns

36

The Big Guns

M ist lands on our skin from the ocean waves.

Isaiah's arm is a steady weight over my shoulder, his fingers threaded through mine. The sun is hidden behind a sky of gray. The heat from his body seeps into mine.

"You ready to go back?" His voice is soft, barely loud enough to be heard over the waves.

Exhaling, I turn my eyes to him. "No." My lips quirk in a sad smile. "But I'd rather get it over with. If I have to leave, I want to know now."

"I'm sure you've thought of it, but you know you don't have to, right? If you wanted to stick it out, I'd be there."

"Yeah, but I don't want to have to stick it out. It's my life. I want to enjoy it." I shake my head. "I don't want to come home miserable and upset because he can't be bothered to be an adult. I want to love it. I love them, the team. But…soccer—I love soccer more. I need to be able to play without the pressure of Dad. Without him leeching the joy out of me from the sidelines."

Isaiah squeezes my hand, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "Understood."

"I wish I had a why. Why couldn't he get over himself and come check on me? Why is it never enough? Why is asking him to love me so hard?" I take a deep breath, tipping my head back. The salty mist lands on my skin. "Because I can't…I can't fix things if I don't know why they're broken."

"Aurora," Isaiah starts, but I hold a finger over his lips.

"Let me finish," I say, and he nods. "I know that's not my job. I'm not perfect, but nothing I've done is deserving of feeling like a throw away. A disappointment. Not from anyone but especially not my father. All I've ever wanted is to make him proud. But I'm done jumping through hoops to still fail. I'm done. I deserve better than that."

After a momentary silence, Isaiah attacks me with kisses. "I'm proud of you, Ro."

"I'm sure I'm going to fall a few more times. Be angry about PT and my knee. If we have to move, that might be—"

He places a palm over my mouth. "Whatever it is, we'll do it together." Pushing my hair away from my face, he makes sure my eyes are focused on him. "And if you fall, I'll be there to catch you. You've always gotten back up, dusted the dirt and wiped the tears. The only difference is, I'll be there to hold your hand. I'm always going to catch you, Aurora."

Who could blame me for practically tackling him in the sand?

No one.

Underneath me, he smiles. I run the thin chain through my fingers, kiss his nose, and breathlessly say, "Let's go home."

My grip on Isaiah's hand is tight as we walk up to the facility.

"If you hold on any tighter, you're going to kill my circulation. How am I supposed to touch you if you do that?"

I hip bump him, my brow furrowing playfully. "Shush."

He tugs me to a stop, tipping my chin up. "You are okay. No matter what happens in there, you're going to be okay."

I blow a raspberry. The pressure lessens, if only a bit. The fear still sits there. Yeah, it was my idea to leave if things didn't get better, but I don't want to leave. I will. But it will suck.

Isaiah taps my butt twice. "Let's go." He pulls the door open and follows behind me, but upon entry, I find Maazina, Sylvia, and Viv all standing there. Spinning, my eyes land on Isaiah, who's pocketed his hands, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Maazina skips over, threading her arm through mine. "He figured you'd be all scared, so he called in the big guns."

"I did not say that," Isaiah groans. I hide my smile. Their relationship reminds me of me and Kian.

Viv gives my hand a squeeze, her long, dark braids flowing behind her. "He most certainly did not say that."

"Jeez Louise, you guys are no fun."

Maazina leads the charge as she does, and I exhale—really truly exhale—with them by my side. Turning back, Isaiah trails, and I mouth, "thank you," to him. And in return, I get an, "I love you."

"I never thought I'd see the day," Viv comments quietly, and my cheeks flush.

"I did. And I love it. She's so cute when she blushes," Sylvia says, causing the rest of us to laugh.

Our footsteps echo down the empty halls. Maazina's grip never lightens, and my chest expands with gratitude at this friendship. We stop outside Coach Teller's door. The girls untwine themselves from me and take up purchase on the wall. I could go in alone, could act like I'm not scared shitless, but I am. So, I reach back, and Isaiah's palm finds my own in a millisecond. After knocking, we enter.

Coach Teller looks us over, her lips barely upturned but enough for me to relax my shoulders. "Matthews, nice to see you're alive."

"I'm sorry I left like that. I should've waited."

"I may be your coach on the field, but that doesn't mean you have to obey my every word off it." She gives me a playful glance. "Though you should. Please, both of you, sit."

Coach and I take a seat, but Isaiah remains standing next to me. "I can leave you both to it, if you'd like."

Before I can speak, Teller beats me to it. "Nope. I imagine what concerns her, concerns you. You're welcome to stay."

I wring my fingers together in my lap. "So—"

"You want a trade?" Coach Teller asks. I swear, she sees every weak spot, every fear. Even the tear in my knee under the goddamn table. It's really no surprise she's an incredible, and sometimes scary, coach.

Tentatively, I nod.

"No."

My shoulders slump. "Coach, please."

"You wanted a trade because of your father, correct?"

Again, I nod.

"Well, he resigned yesterday. So, a trade isn't necessary."

Next to me, Isaiah sucks in sharply. Meanwhile, my heart short circuits. "Wh–what?"

Coach Teller's brown eyes twinkle. They twinkle . And her lips fight a smile. "Now, I probably shouldn't look so excited over the idea of one of my coaches quitting, but you, Matthews, are not going anywhere. Certainly not to another fucking team."

Nothing is making sense. "My dad quit?"

"Resigned," Coach says, but I hear the teasing tone.

I huff. "Is there a difference?"

"Well, actually—" Isaiah starts.

"Isaiah, I love you. Shut up." I point at him, ignoring his tiny laugh. I swear, it's like they've decided to conspire over my shock. Turning back to Teller, I lean forward. "I don't understand. He left?"

"He did. I suspect something made him realize he was risking a lot more than he realized," she starts, eyes flicking to Isaiah. "He stated he would see the girls through the rest of the regular season before leaving. But that was it. I'm helping him get some interviews with other teams, not that he needs my help, but I have some good connections with the coaches on the east coast." Teller looks at me with a sense of finality. "You are not leaving this team. Clear?"

Tension releases. "Clear."

"One more thing." She pulls together two manila folders. "One of these has the National Team's schedule of training camps, pulled together based on the last few World Cups and Olympic years. The first, as you know, is expected to be at the end of February. This folder," she says, holding up the thicker folder, "is a detailed schedule for you that Thomas helped make. Your surgery, doctor appointments, PT, extra exercises, massage therapists, and markers for you to track your recovery."

"Coach, I—"

"We are going to do everything we can to get you on that field and at the first camp. And if not, we will damn well get you to the second camp. Understood?"

My eyes burn, but I hold back the tears. "Understood."

"Good." Teller slides the folders over and sits back, her gaze on Isaiah. "And you—I expect you to keep her on said schedule. No trainings that aren't in there. No extra runs. No pick-up games. No practices. If it's not in that folder, she doesn't do it. Understood?"

Isaiah smirks. "Yes, ma'am."

"Is the idiot brigade outside the door?"

I snort but nod.

Coach Teller raises her voice, "Did you hear that girls? Nothing."

Maazina answers, resigned, "Yes Coach."

"Alright, now get out of here. Keep me updated on surgery. I'll see you on the sidelines soon enough."

With the folders gripped tightly in my hands, we all stand. Before heading out, I can't stop myself from suffocating my coach with a hug. It takes her by surprise, if the way she tenses automatically is any indication, but she settles. "Thank you."

She pats my curls. "You're welcome, Aurora."

Isaiah is smiling so wide when his hand finds mine again, and I almost skip out the door. Instantly, I'm bombarded with the girls over my not having to leave. Maazina, forgetting herself, jumps up on my back.

Teller's voice booms from the office. "Get off of her now."

I laugh when she slides down but keeps her arms locked tight. Sylvia and Viv lock their arms around me as well in the thickest group hug I've ever had.

"Can I kiss my girl?"

"Ooo, is she your girlfriend?" Maazina and Sylvia coo.

I sigh.

"By all means, don't let us stop you," Viv says, raising a brow but not unwrapping her arms.

Pushing up on my tiptoes above the heads of three girls that love me more than I deserve, I find Isaiah towering over us. And in the midst of all the chaos, he presses his lips to mine.

Underfoot, the ground stops shaking. My heart feels full.

I am loved. And better, I get to love all these people.

Tomorrow is always a new day when things are rough. A way to look forward, to hope that the storm breaks. But right now—today is pretty fucking great.