I scoffed and shook my head. "What career? Let's not pretend like I had a future in my prime, and now I sure as hell don't have one. I just want to fucking start and have some normalcy back in my life."
Max sighed. "It's not about the future, but right now. I've watched you being so lost without soccer. I'm just scared that if you push too soon, you'll quit forever. Have you even figured out who you are without soccer?"
I haven't. I've been busy developing an obsession with Rosie. But I knew I was going to be okay without soccer. I saw how she handled herself without ballet. Her strength made me believe that I could be okay. After all, I always knew this was a college thing only. It was never supposed to last. Having it end almost two years early sucked, but I would survive.
Anything was better than this limbo.
"Yeah, I'll be fine, no matter what happens. But I won't be fine working myself to the bone just to be untrusted. It sucks more. And once I know, I'll be able to see what the future holds."
Max gave me a long look. It was the psychologist in him, trying to get a read on me, which he probably was. He always read me like an open book. But still, he nodded.
"I'll talk to Coach, and we'll review the formation tomorrow, making sure we keep people away from you as best we can.”
"Appreciate it," I nodded, relief washing over me. "And Max... sorry I was so hard on you for that goal.”
Max smirked. "Yeah, it was a shit thing to do, but when I'm in the zone... I love you, but I love the game more."
A low laugh escaped me. "I know, no one can compete with your love for soccer."
"Maybe Ivy," Max shrugged, making me laugh a long belly laugh.
"Definitely Ivy."
The waiting room of Dr. Morrison's office always smelled like lavender and something clinical I could never quite place. I bounced my knee, scrolling mindlessly through Spotify while pretending I wasn't counting down the minutes until I could leave.
My phone buzzed.
Rosalie
Just finished my Calc exam. Pretty sure I failed, but at least it's over. How's your day?
A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.
Practice. School. Therapy. The usual fun.
Rosalie
Want to call after? I can listen to you complain about Dr. Morrison's leading questions.
He doesn't ask leading questions.
Rosalie
"And how does that make you FEEL, Derek?"
I actually laughed out loud, earning a look from the receptionist.
Okay, fine. Maybe a little bit.
Rosalie
Knew it. Good luck. I believe in you
The heart emoji did something stupid to my chest. Before Icould respond, the door opened, and Dr. Morrison appeared, his grey hair and kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, wearing the same navy cardigan he wore to every session.
"Derek, come on in."
I pocketed my phone and followed him into the familiar office. Leather couch, bookshelf full of psychology texts with titles likeTrauma and RecoveryandThe Body Keeps the Score, a spider plant that somehow stayed alive despite the lack of natural light. I dropped onto my usual spot on the couch.
