“Connor, when we first met, seeing you, I saw parts of my past. Yet you’re this big, strong man. A specimen of physical conditioning, determination, aspiration...”
“You’re not a man, Cat.” I joke softly, hoping to at least get her to crack a smile to break this tension.
She shakes her head. “You don’t understand my meaning. I was the same as you once. Seeking perfection, but in the form of ballet instead of football. But like me, you’re after it for the wrong reasons and that is your weakness. I stepped away from ballet and gave myself space. During that time, I received clarity.” The thoughts she conveys into words have an abstract quality, like they’re freshly formed, or she’s having a hard time translating them from French.
“Are you suggesting I quit football? No way. That’s out of the question.”
“Don’t be silly. Remember, I asked you why you want to win? Just before I stopped dancing, I realized that my mother wanted me to win because she was afraid of losing. Even then, I knew that was the wrong approach. So I stopped dancing altogether. But now I understand. Dancing is in my heart just as football is in yours. I want to dance without the idea that there is a win or a lose—a finite amount of possibility of success. Do you get what I mean?”
I don’t hear anything other than a slow goodbye.
She continues, “I want to dance, knowing now that there is no winning or losing, and success can look like and mean whatever I want it to. I don’t have to associate dance with my parents’ vision for my future.” She lets out a long breath. “So, I ask you again, Connor. Why do you want to win?”
My eyebrows dip and my lips twist. “Is it because you think I don’t want to lose?” Right now, I don’t have a better answer.
Her expression is frozen, impassive. I hear an imaginary game show buzzer,Bzzzt!
I sense Cat slipping away. Maybe she wants to dance in an infinite reality, or whatever it is she’s saying, but our time together is finite—coming to an end before my eyes. I know it. She all but said it.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, trying again, hoping that she’ll accept me not knowing why I want to win. Her beauty and the fact that I’m losing her right now erase all other thoughts from my mind.
She leans forward and lands the softest kiss on my lips.
I shiver because it hasthe endwritten all over it.
She opens the door partway, about to exit my life. My chest clenches.
“For the next twenty-four hours, you are still my student.”
“And I’m going to pass the program and show you that you were wrong about your not love list.”
The corners of her lips tease a smile. “No, Connor. Before we can love each other, you have to do a little more growing up.”
“Does that mean we’re splitting up?” I ask.
She stares out the windshield, leaving me feeling empty and alone. The lone wolf. A howl builds inside as I remember who I am and why I don’t date.
Horrible lies pour out of my mouth. “Yeah, well, I guess this is for the best.”
There’s more I want to say, namely the truth, to reveal my feelings for her, but they get stuck in my mouth. Until Cat, I’d never experienced love and as soon as I let my guard down, she saw that beneath all my brawn, I’m just a boy, just like my father and brother always said. It’s no surprise Cateline wouldn’t want a guy like me.
“I’m sorry for everything that happened here. I should go.” I thought I’d done the right thing, but I’d come on too strong, too fast. The question I posed to her parents probably scared her.
“Thank you for saying that. Thank you for everything. I think we both need to take some time. Sort out our priorities.” She smooths her hair and exits the car.
I can read between the lines. It’s over. We’re breaking up, if we’d ever truly been together in the first place.
I’ve taken serious poundings on the field, been tackled and concussed, but never has my chest ached so much. However, I’m a Boston Bruiser. It isn’t over until I’ve won. I can’t yet answer Cat’s question about why I want to win, but I have a question of my own for her.
Before I shout it into the night, the door to her house closes.
35
CONNOR
It’s late and I’m lost. Lost without Cateline, but I’ve already been driving for two hours and there’s no going back. Finally, I see a small sign that saysSanctuaire des loupsand pull down a long, winding road.
When I started donating funds to protect wolves, my focus was on the United States, but over time I expanded and have now helped establish sanctuaries in fourteen countries—my goal is twenty-four, which is my jersey number.
