I hug my niece’s mom back tightly. “I’ll call an old friend and see if she can find a replacement for me.”
“I don’t want any of those bitches who didn’t stand up for you.”
“Not their fault, B.”
“Bullshit. And you’ve been lonely, no matter how much you say your old lady friends make up for everything. I hope—god, Goldie. Find what you’re looking for in London, okay? Make it worthwhile that you’re leaving.”
Dammit.
Is it raining inside this dome? Directly into my eyes?
“Aunt Gow-die!” a little voice shrieks.
Brittany lets me go and wipes her own eyes, which is not an auspicious start to this last event of the season.
We’re playing Coach Beck’s team in a mock game today, and we have big plans to win.
But we can’t do that if all of the coaches and parents are on the sidelines crying.
I squat and take a full-force Hallie hug, which sends a ripple of pain from my hip down my femur.
But I don’t cringe.
I hope.
This won’t be fully better until the storm starts moving through.
“You ready to be a soccer star?” I ask my niece.
“Uh-huh. And den I get a big twophy for my twophy woom.”
I squint up at my brother. “A trophy room? She’sthree.”
“Ifour, Aunt Gow-die. I five soon too.”
Silas lifts a shoulder while he smirks at me. He’s in training pants and a Pounders hoodie, and his brown hair is overdue for a haircut.
“She’s a Collins. She’ll need three trophy rooms before she’s done.”
Brittany rolls her eyes.
And then the very worst-best-worst thing that could possibly happen happens.
Hallie’s eyes go wide.
A smile blossoms that stretches her lips almost from ear to ear.
And then she puts her head down and charges away from me, away from Brittany and Silas, and away from the indoor field, howling, “Feeeeettttccccchhhhhhhhheerrrrrr!”
Silas jerks his head toward the dome entrance.
Brittany makes a noise.
Half a dozen other parents turn and look at us.
And I—honestly, I don’t know what I do.
I stare.
