“How are you feeling? Better?”
“A little bit.”
“Go rest.”
“Call me when you get on the plane.”
“You need your sleep,” I warn.
“I’ll be waiting for your call. Promise me?”
I nod in agreement. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
I end the call and join my team in celebrating. The hype after our win is unreal and now, we still have interviews and a press conference before the bus transports us to the airport.
It’s after one a.m. when I text Carla.
Luca
Just boarded. I’ll be home in a few hours. I hope you’re resting. I don’t want to wake you, cucciola. I’ll see you tomorrow.
She doesn’t respond, which I didn’t think she would. Once I settle on the plane, I close my eyes and let sleep take me.
Tomorrow promises to be wild. There will be a parade, nonstop fireworks, and a balcony celebration at the ayuntamiento, or city hall. The team will bring the trophy to the Basilica of Our Lady of the Forsaken, the patroness of Valencia, to honor our culture and give thanks. And we will party, late into the night, at the stadium. It will be nonstop chaos mixed with excitement and joy.
When we land at the airport, it’s nearly three a.m. Thousands of fans flood the space, cheering for us, chanting squad songs, and waving scarves. I can’t fight the grin that cuts across my face. As the team moves through the crowd, with security trying to keep the fans at bay, I stop to sign autographs for kids or pose for selfies. Once we board the bus, the fans shake it, slapping our windows and grinning.
“It’s going to be a late night,” Carlos jokes.
In the distance, fireworks explode and car horns cut the night air.
“A crazy week,” Andrés agrees.
“You boys earned it,” Coach says, tapping the dashboard of the bus.
Slowly, we roll out of the airport and back to our stadium where we will collect our cars and head home for the night or out to party until sunrise.
Pulling out my phone, I power it on. There’s still no response from Carla, which is a good thing, since it means she’s resting. But a swell of disappointment rises in me. I really wish she could have attended the game. That I was going to see her at the stadium, grab her hand, and pull her out for a night of celebrations.
Anger over all the shit Sergio put her through, the stress he’s caused, eats at me. Shaking my head, I look out the window. I’ll deal with him in due time. For now, I have a victory to celebrate and a girlfriend to check up on.
When the bus rolls into the stadium, fans are waiting. They jump up and down, lighting off fireworks and cheering loudly as we descend the bus.
“Gracias!” I call out, lifting a hand. My shirt it tugged by kids and I stop, dipping low to sign their jerseys and share some encouraging words. I’m swarmed by fans and, despite my exhaustion, I revel in their congratulations, staying behind to sign as many jerseys and papers that are stuffed in my face to show them how grateful I am for their support.
By the time the last fan leaves, the first glimpses of dawn color the sky. Sighing, I shoulder my bag and move toward my car.
And there, leaning against it, wrapped in a shawl, and smiling at me is my cucciola.
27
Carla
“What are you doing here?” Surprise colors his expression as he jogs toward me. “How long have you been waiting? Are you cold?”
He reaches me and I fall into his arms, cuddling into him. I press my forehead against the solid muscle of his chest and smile. It feels good to be in his arms, like breathing after being under water for too long.
He holds me close, one hand stroking my back. A shiver runs through me and I know my fever has spiked again. But I couldn’t not be here. And while Abuela disapproved, she understood. I grabbed a taxi to the stadium, found Luca’s car, and have been leaning against it for hours.
