“I’m fine,” I say, half telling the truth because I could certainly be a lot worse—that’s for sure.
Her green eyes roam my face, and she lifts a brow. “Girl, the sooner you just get it all out there, the better. Why are you trying to be so tough right now? It’s just us.”
Harley and I hit it off right away, but it’s not like we’ve known each other that long. And seeing as we’re on different teams here at NEU, it’s not like we’ve bonded during games. She’s a softballer. I’m a hockey player. And yet she cares enough to be in here right now.
“I mean, I’m embarrassed.” I cringe. “Obviously.”
“You have nothing?—”
“To be embarrassed about,” I cut her off, finishing her sentence. “Yes, I know. You all keep telling me that, but guess what. I still am.”
A long exhale falls from her lips. “Fair enough.” She looks at me curiously. “So, Hendrix Hunt kind of went all, like, superhero tonight. What was that about?”
I shrug my shoulders under the covers. “I don’t know. I guess he just was hoping to help—that’s all.”
Her gaze narrows. “Bullshit, Hardy. I know a man in love when I see one.” She stares thoughtfully at me. “You should have seen the sheer panic on his face when he ran in and saw that it was you. I have never seen him crack, but I’ll tell you, tonight … he freaking broke altogether.” She pauses. “I know you guys spent some time together. What happened with that?”
The image of him staring down at me, holding me in his arms after carrying me out of that party, assaults my brain, and my heart squeezes inside my chest.
“We hung out a few times, and now it’s over,” I state. “So, whatever you thought you saw on his face? Well, it wasn’t real, Harley.”
“Could have fooled me,” she whispers, her eyes shifting around my face. “You gonna be okay?”
I bob my head up and down. “Yeah. I’m just tired.”
I love Harley, but right now, I just want to be alone, and right away, I see understanding flash in her eyes.
“Okay, babe.” She gives me a tiny, sad smile before patting my back. “If you need me, I’m right down the hall.”
“Thank you, Harley.” I barely get the words out before she stands up and heads out of my room, closing the door behind her.
I roll over onto my other side and face the wall. Closing my eyes, I beg my mind to just let me sleep so that I can escape this day altogether. Knowing that my brain … usually doesn’t like to cooperate.
TWENTY-FOUR
ISLA
The arena erupts into cheers,and up in the stands, I can see my dad, my mom, Nena, and Papa all jumping up and down, clapping obnoxiously because we just won. Well, Mom and Dad jump; Nena and Papa more kind of … bounce. Because in the last ten seconds, I blocked the shot that would have tied the game and put us into overtime.
I grin inside my helmet, knowing how proud my dad is right now. This is the first game I’ve wanted them to come to because now that I have some time in front of the goal under my belt, I finally feel comfortable here. I think he knew how nervous I was to take on this position, and yet he never doubted me. Instead, like always, he reminded me how talented I was.
I pull my helmet off as my teammates come and smash their bodies into mine while screaming in pure excitement. But once they’re gone, I look at my parents again, who are now down in the aisle, beside the plexiglass, and I head over.
I don’t know why I ever cared to find out about my birth father. I have the best dad in the entire world right in front ofme. He has never given me a reason to question his love. He’s never treated me any different than Saint, who is his blood.
Reaching the glass, I beam at all of them.
“We are so proud!” my grandmother squeals. “You’re amazing, Isla.”
“That was awesome, I!” Dad says proudly before he looks down at my jersey. “And I can’t get over that you asked to keep number nineteen, even with your new position.”
He stops talking, and my mom throws her arm around him, patting his stomach.
“No crying, Cam.” She giggles. “We had a deal.”
My dad gives her a look and shakes his head, but then wipes the back of his hand across his eyes. “I’m not crying. I just … I got a piece of dust in my eye—that’s all.” He pauses, sighing. “Fine. I’m crying, okay? Can’t a man be proud of his daughter?” He looks at me. “My God, you’re a star, kid. You may have not always played as a goalie, but you’ve proven that you’re more than deserving of the position.”
“He’s right, babe,” my mom adds, her hair framing her face underneath her NEU beanie. She always loves the ones with the huge-ass pom-pom on the top.
