The Long Game (Long Game, #1)

Adalyn’s lips bobbed. “I… Oh. Thank you.” She frowned. “You, um, looked… weird. As if you were about to sneeze. Or… hungry?” Her eyes widened. “Oh God, I’m super late, aren’t I?” She pulled out her phone and checked the screen. “Please, tell me I’m not too late and ruined dinner.”

The genuine worry in her face pushed me one step forward. I stilled myself. “You’re just in time,” I assured her, my voice sounding a little too rough still. “And I wasn’t about to sneeze. Or hungry. That was just my face.” Around you. Lately. Always. I’d need to work on it.

Her concern dissolved, giving way to that playfulness she had been showing me glimpses of these past days. “You still looked handsome,” she said in a small voice. “It smells great, by the way. Very excited to see what you’ve cooked.”

Enthralled, I watched her pad all the way to the kitchen island and take a seat. “How bad was it?”

A sigh came out of her lips. “Bad. It took Josie and I two rounds of milkshakes to cheer everyone up.”

My hand closed around the bottle of red wine I’d gotten on my way home from the game. I’d already set two glasses on the island. “Red?” I asked, the intimacy of the scene catching me by total surprise. A new kind of warmth spread across my chest. I… liked this. How this felt. I cleared my throat. “I also have a bottle of white chilling in the fridge.”

Her lips parted with a soft, “Oh.” And my gaze fastened on her mouth. “What is this for? I would hardly celebrate the outcome of the game, even if we didn’t lose.”

“You also deserve to be comforted, darling. It wasn’t just the girls not getting enough points to get to the final.”

Adalyn sighed. “Red is perfect. Thank you, Coach.”

I had to fight the urge to smile at her calling me that. Or growl, I wasn’t sure. “Don’t thank me just yet,” I murmured, and served her a glass. “So two rounds of milkshakes?”

“Yes. The girls were so devastated I started getting everything Josie had behind the counter. Nothing was left, not even Josie’s raisin cookies.” Her hand came around the stem of the glass. “I mean, we all knew that if we didn’t win this game against the New Mount Eagles we would only be able to fight for a third or fourth place. But I…” She averted her gaze, her lips closing around the brim and taking a long sip. “I don’t know.”

We had talked about this, long and hard. We’d established a strategy and the girls had entered that field today with a literal battle cry. Adalyn had gotten everything on camera. When we’d only managed another tie, I’d been ready to deal with the possible consequences that would have on Adalyn. I’d been prepared to weather a storm. Because I’d known just how badly Adalyn wanted—needed—the girls to get to that final that was no longer possible. But she’d been… okay. No. She’d been so concerned about the girls’ reaction that she hadn’t even shown disappointment herself. She’d put on a strong face.

It’d been impossibly hard not to kiss her in that moment.

It was impossible now. “Are you not a little devastated? You don’t need to act strong around me, love.”

Adalyn set the glass back on the island. “I’m disappointed. There was a lot at stake for me.” She frowned. “But no, I’m not devastated. Somehow. It was me who got their hopes up. I wanted this for them.”

There was a lot at stake for me.

I knew that she had messed up in some way or another and was trying to redeem herself. But I was starting to believe that there was more than just that.

“What exactly was at stake for you?” I asked.

Adalyn shook her head. “You know what the Miami Flames sent me here for,” she said. And I knew. But I let her talk. Because now, I was certain I was missing something I’d overlooked. It was right there, in the way she wouldn’t look at me. Her shoulders tensed. “I know that the condition had never been to win but… Well, I just hoped we would. A win is always a win. And you can better sell a win to the press. People love winners, we all know that. But I still have a lot of material to work with. And I’m planning something big for that last game. No matter where we end up. This is still a success story.”

I frowned. The condition? Why would she say that instead of the goal or the milestone? But also… “There wasn’t any press at today’s game. Or the one before.” I specifically remembered her mentioning talking to local outlets. “Why?”

She brought the glass to her lips again. But I could tell it was to give herself time.

I stared at her, in silence. Willing her to tell me the reason even though I knew. She must have done it for me. And that… made me want to scream for very different reasons. “Adalyn—”

“Enough about me, please.” She tried to smile over her glass, but I didn’t buy it. It was that plastic smile I didn’t like. The one that wasn’t hers. “What about you? What’s Cameron Caldani’s plan? How… long do you think you’ll be in Green Oak?”

I remained quiet. Partly because of how she’d shot me down, and partly because of the reminder that none of us were here to stay. Or maybe I was. I didn’t know.

Adalyn must have sensed some of my reluctance to talk about any of that, because she reached out and touched my arm. “We don’t need to talk about it.” She lowered her voice. “Can I ask you something else instead?”

I reached for my glass and brought it to my lips for one long swig. “You can ask me anything,” I told her, returning the wine to the surface of the island. I just wish she’d extend the same offer to me.

“It’s about your retirement.”

I stiffened. So much that I had to focus on the touch of her fingers on my arm to simmer down enough to speak. “What about it?”

“I… I read about it,” she admitted. “About you, too. A lot.” Her cheeks were pink again, but not with embarrassment. With the opposite of that. And the fool in me thought, That’s my brave girl. But she wasn’t my girl. Not yet. “It was sudden. You had a few more years in you. Goalkeepers usually…” A shake of her head. “I don’t need to explain this to you of all people. But your retirement came as a surprise. I was wondering if there was a reason.”

I felt myself lean back, and Adalyn’s hand fell off my arm with the distance.

I walked to the oven and took out the lasagna. Words were stuck in my throat, but this time it wasn’t because of my reluctance to share, it was because I was readying myself to share this with her. It felt crucial that I did. But it wasn’t easy.

Moments ago, when Adalyn had dodged my question, it had stung. But how could I expect her to completely open up when I wasn’t doing that myself?

I leaned back on the counter, realizing I was somehow holding a spatula.

I dropped it next to the lasagna and braced my hands on the marble.

I closed my eyes, throwing myself back to that night.

“Someone broke in,” I let out with a long, rough breath. “Into my house. In L.A.”

I waited, heard my own words hanging in the air, feeling the usual pressure that came along with the memory. The horrible night. I opened my eyes and looked at her. All the blood had drained from her face.

“To this day, I don’t even understand how it happened.” I let my arms drop to my sides. “It had been the night after returning from a game in Austin. Usually, I left Willow and Pierogi with a neighbor, some old lady who claimed to be an old Hollywood star. I never recognized her from anything but she took good care of them, so I trusted her.” I shook my head. “I’d been tempted to leave them with her an extra night and go straight to bed. I still have—or had—a few years left in me, you were right, but away games were starting to take their toll on me. Thing was, I missed the cats, and was worried about Willow being the pain in the ass she can be, so I just collected them, went home, and crashed.”

Adalyn looked so distraught I had to look away.

“I…” The image of what happened next was as clear as the day in my head. “I think I slept at least five hours before hearing Willow’s loud whining, so I… opened my eyes and saw him there.”

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