I waved back.
I know. I've got this.
“Why is Nova wearing your jersey again?” Maddox walked beside me, his eyes narrowing on the three girls. I didn't even notice Nova wearing my jersey, but I guess it made sense.
“It's my return game.”
“No, that was the excuse for the last one,” he grumbled, unimpressed. Guess he wanted her to wear his jersey.
“Rosie is wearing it too,” I added to make him feel better, but he only snorted.
“Yeah, but that's expected.”
I turned to stare at my best friend, who only arched his brow in return. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I was going to ask him to explain himself when Max called us to the sidelines.
We huddled up, Max in the center. “All right, listen up. Redwood's defense is aggressive but sloppy. They'll try to intimidate us physically. Don't let them. Play smart, play clean, play together.” His eyes found mine. “Dex, you're our target up front. We feed you, you score. Simple as that. Trust yourself.”
“Trust the process,” Maddox added, bumping his fist against mine.
“Trust the team,” Aaron said from my other side. He didn't know about his sister and me, but he still had my back. That meant something.
“Titans on three,” Max said. “One, two, three.”
“TITANS!” we roared in unison.
The referee's whistle blew, and we took our positions. I stood at the center circle, across from Redwood's captain, a massive defender with a scar across his eyebrow and a mean look in his eye.
“Heard you were injured,” he said as we waited for kickoff. “Shame. It would've been nice to face you at full strength.”
The comment was meant to rile me up, to get in my head. Old Dex would have fired back with something cocky. New Dex just smiled.
“Guess you'll find out if I'm at full strength soon enough.”
The whistle blew. Max kicked the ball to Maddox, and we were off.
The first twenty minutes were a feeling-out process. Redwood came at us hard, exactly like Max said they would. Their defenders were physical, using every opportunity to bump, push, and grab. They played dirty, earning a couple of yellow cards in the process.
Each time someone got close to me, I felt the familiar spike of anxiety. My knee would twinge with phantom pain, my breath would catch.
But then I'd hear Dr. Morrison's voice:Fear is information. Do it anyway.
I'd see Rosalie in the stands, on her feet, cheering.
And I'd push through.
In the 23rd minute, Max intercepted a pass in midfield. He looked up, saw me making a run, and sent a perfect through ball between two defenders.
This was it. My moment.
I accelerated, my legs pumping, my knees feeling strong. The ball rolled perfectly ahead of me. The goalkeeper came off his line, trying to narrow the angle.
Time slowed. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, feel the grass beneath my feet, and see every option playing out.
Shoot low left. Chip over the keeper. Pass to Maddox on the wing.
The defender was closing in from behind. In my peripheral vision, I saw him lunge.
Ten months ago, everything ended. A defender coming in too hard, too fast. The snap of ligaments. The end of everything.
