Dropping my face into my hands, I pull in a breath. Calm my racing heart. Get a grip on my spiking anger.
Glancing at my watch, I note the time. There’s a good chance the administrators have already left for the day, hell, for the weekend. And if those papers aren’t submitted by end of day today, Anna and Julieta won’t be able to play in the regional games. I swear and send Abuela a text message that something came up and I’ll be late.
Then, I grab my folder and purse, and race to the parking lot, my phone already pressed to my ear to get in touch with an administrator at Valencia’s Fútbol Federation.
Of course, no one answers.
Undeterred, I throw my car in drive and head to the office. If luck is on my side, I’ll get this sorted before the office closes for the day.
At eight p.m., I drop my forehead to the steering wheel of my car and breathe the biggest sigh of relief. A headache is forming in my temples and fatigue clouds my mind, but I did it. I sorted out my players’ information so they are eligible to compete at the next level, which starts next week.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, partly in relief and partly in frustration. I can’t believe Sergio would do something so underhanded, something that would hurt high school girls, just so he could feel important.
My phone rings and I dry my eyes when I note the incoming video call from Luca.
“Hey!” I answer as cheerfully as possible.
He smiles when he sees me, all chocolate eyes and sexy lips. “Carla,” he breathes. “I’m glad you’re already on the road. How far from the city are you?”
“I have bad news.”
He frowns, a line forming in between his brows. “What’s wrong?”
“We didn’t leave yet,” I admit. “In fact, I haven’t even picked up Abuela.” Sighing, I recount the whole ordeal with Sergio and the girls’ paperwork.
Luca swears and shakes his head. “Stronzo di merda!” Fucking asshole. “He’s out of line, Carla.”
“I know, I know,” I lament, shaking my head miserably. “But I had to try to get the girls’ paperwork in order.”
“Of course you did,” he agrees. “You did the right thing. I’m just, fuck, I’m pissed that Sergio is still giving you a hard time. He needs to be dealt with.”
“You’re not mad that I won’t get to Sevilla until super late?”
“Mad? At you? Never,” Luca says. “And you can’t come tonight. Carla, the drive is seven hours. You’d have to drive through the night and you look exhausted.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No.” His tone is clipped. “It’s okay if you skip the game and?—”
“I’m not missing the game.”
“I don’t want you driving through the night.” His jaw tightens.
“Fine,” I snap. “I’ll sleep at Abuela’s and we’ll leave early in the morning. What time is kickoff?”
“Not until ten p.m.”
“So, we’ll make it.”
He sighs and scrubs at the center of his forehand. “Yes, but Carla, that’s a lot of driving. You’re going to turn around the next day and drive back and then coach your team for their big game on Monday afternoon? It’s too much. Just, stay home and take it easy. It’s only one game and?—”
“It’s the oldest competition in Spanish fútbol.”
He grins. “I know. But please don’t drive tonight. Just, straight to Abuelita’s, okay?”
“Vale,” I agree, annoyed. “And don’t get involved with Sergio. I’ll handle it.”
Luca rolls his lips together but doesn’t say anything.
