My head snapped toward him. “What?”
“Nova, Ivy, and Rosie. They're in the stands.” His grin widened. “Rosie has been doing so much better since training you. I know I was busting your balls about flirting with her, but ever since her injury, she is delicate. But now I’m slowly starting to see parts of her come back: not skipping every class, being more present, and happier. I hate to say it, but I think it helped her to bond with you over the injury. And it helped you, too.”
I nodded, a huge knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “She's great, man.” That didn't even begin to cover how I feltabout her, but for her brother, it would do. “She really knows her thing. You should be proud.”
“I am,” Aaron smiled. “I might come across as a dick when it comes to her, but fuck, you haven't seen how broken she was. It killed me. Especially because I couldn't protect her. I felt so... out of control.”
I didn't want to mention that I saw her at her worst, sobbing in my arms when she hated herself. I felt his terror at not being able to help. But I knew, being there for her was enough.
“You're a good brother,” I told him, and Aaron laughed.
“According to her last message, I need to get a life.”
I let out a short laugh, knowing Aaron was still pushing Rosie to share her location all the time.
“You will do great, I know.” He clapped me on the shoulder and headed toward the front of the bus, leaving me stunned in my seat.
This was the first time Aaron and I talked about Rosie, and he admitted I was a good influence on her. Maybe if he found out that I was more than just an influence, he would be cool with it. He said it himself, Rosalie was happier. Maybe it all could work out, and we won't need to keep it a secret. Maybe...
“Let's go, Dex!” Coach's voice boomed from outside. “We're not getting any younger!”
Right. Game first, existential crisis later.
I grabbed my bag and followed my teammates off the bus, the cool evening air hitting my face like a slap. The smell of grass, sweat, and competition filled my lungs. This was familiar. This was home.
In the locker room, I went through my pre-game ritual. Tape my ankles. Check my cleats. Stretch my knee. Deep breaths. Put in my headphones and let Rosalie's playlist drown out everything else.
The current song was “Rise Up” by Andra Day, the acousticversion she'd added two days ago. The lyrics talked about getting knocked down and finding the strength to keep going.
And I'll rise up, I'll rise like the day. I'll rise up, I'll rise unafraid.
My phone buzzed.
Rosalie
Surpriseeeee! We're here. Front row, section C. You will kill it, boyfriend.
Now I was happy Aaron was no longer sitting close to me.
Thank you for being here. It means everything.
Rosalie
Nowhere else I'd rather be. Now go score some goals, boyfriend.
Boyfriend. I was never going to get tired of seeing that word.
I pocketed my phone and headed toward the tunnel, falling into line with my teammates. The roar of the crowd grew louder as we approached the field. My heart hammered against my ribs, but it wasn't panic this time.
It was anticipation.
We burst onto the field, and the crowd erupted. I scanned the stands and found section C almost immediately. There they were, Nova waving like a maniac, Ivy with her phone out recording, and Rosalie.
Rosalie, wearing my number 7 jersey, her hair in a high ponytail, her smile so bright I could see it from across the field.
Our eyes met. She pressed her hand to her heart, her grin wide.
I'm here. I've got you.
