After a moment of stunned silence, Marcus spoke first. “We’d love for you to rethink your decision, Noah. You’ll still be a valuable member of the team once you’re healed. I hope you’re not making this choice based on your injury.”
I shook my head, even though nobody could see me. “I’m not, Coach. There’s something at home I need to focus on.”
There were well wishes all around, and that was that.
I quit the team. Soccer. I quit soccer.
“What now?” Miranda asks. She’s sitting at the round table in the corner of the room. Her laptop is out, her fingers poised above the keys.
“It’s over.” There are loose ends still—papers to be signed, lockers to clean out, lawyers who need to draft documents, pending media releases—but, effectively, I’m retired.
Miranda sucks a breath deep into her lungs. I can tell this is unsettling to her, yet for me, it’s not. It’s exciting.
Shackles have been cut. Shackles I placed upon myself.
“I still need you, Miranda.” How can I explain this appropriately? She’s a lifesaver. I’ll need help getting my Atlanta place packed up and sold. Assuming I’m staying here.
I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Ember left my bed quickly this morning, flustered and chagrined.
“We did nothing but sleep,”I reminded her as she shot from my bed once she realized where she was.
“At this point, I’m not sure if that’s worse,”she fired back, stumbling to slide her feet into her shoes. She ran out the door without another word.
I have no idea where Ember and I stand, but I don’t have to lie down and accept that. Yes, she has a fiancé.
But there is no way in hell I’m going down without a fight. I made that mistake already.
“Miranda.” I sway to my feet and tuck a crutch under my arm. “I need to go somewhere.”
She sends me the telltale look of a woman who does not approve. Her eyebrows pull together, and her gaze dips to her computer, but her lips remain tight.
“What?” I ask.
“She’s engaged.” Miranda keeps her gaze on her keyboard.
“You let me worry about that.” I change into a fresh shirt and start for the hotel room door.
Miranda drives me, and I feel like a fool. What I wouldn’t give to drive myself right now. So fucking ridiculous.
“Do you want me to wait?” she asks when we pull up.
I peer into the green front yard with all the cute potted flowers lining the walkway. A thought occurs to me. “She might not be here. She might be at the hospital.” In my haste, I didn’t think to check with Ember. “I’ll text you in five minutes,” I tell Miranda as I get out. She hands me my crutches with a frown.
“I just don’t want to see you hurt,” she says quietly. “It’s really nothing against her. You’re going way out on a limb, and I…” she trails off, shrugging and twisting her lips.
“I appreciate your concern, and you get a raise because I’m certain I didn’t include driving me around and tending to my injury as part of your job description.”
I start up the driveway without waiting for Miranda’s response.
She gets back into the idling car, and I knock on the door. When nobody answers, I go around the side of the house and find a gate. Lifting my hand over the top, I flip up the latch, using my shoulder to prop the door open and finagle my way inside. My crutches are silent on the soft grass. I’m so quiet, Ember never hears me. Neither does Matt.
I stop right where I am and watch them. They’re on the far side of the yard, seated on a couch. Heads bent toward each other, they talk in low voices. A light breeze picks up a strand of Ember’s hair and sends it flying. Matt catches it, tucking it behind her ear. Ember’s face turns up in a smile, and she presses a cupped hand to Matt’s cheek. He leans into her touch. Her lips move, more words, and the tenderness of the moment spears my heart to the wood fence behind me. My chest fills with fire, but it’s an empty flame. If this is what Ember wants, I have to give it to her. She has stepped aside for me. I should be strong enough to do the same for her. What is good, and what is right, aren’t synonymous. Ember was correct when she said that.
The silence of my retreat matches the silence of my arrival.
Pulling open the passenger door, I get in and drag my crutches behind me. Miranda ducks when I lift them and toss them into the back seat. They don’t fit, so they stick awkwardly between us.
I feel her stare but I don’t look at her. I can’t. I’m certain there’s a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be.
