“I know, bro,” Max clapped me on the shoulder. “I know you don't. So take all the time to figure it out, I'll keep your secret, you don't need to worry about that.”
“Thank you, it means a lot.” And I meant it. Despite our small differences over the past months, I knew that Max would put our friendship above the team. He might have been worried about howthis would all play out, but he had my back. And having him in my corner meant the world to me.
The second half was harder. Redwood came out aggressively, clearly having gotten a halftime pep talk about not going down without a fight. They pressed higher, tackled harder, and in the 58th minute, they scored off a defensive mistake.
2-1.
The game shifted. We were still in control, but barely. Every attack felt desperate, every tackle felt dangerous.
In the 72nd minute, I felt it.
A Redwood defender came in late on a tackle, his cleat catching my shin. I went down hard, and for a split second, that familiar terror gripped me.
Not again. Please not again.
But when I sat up, my leg was fine. Bruised, probably, but fine. The defender got a yellow card. I got a free kick just outside the box.
Max jogged over. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” And I meant it. I wasn't hurt. I wasn't broken. I was fine.
“Want to take this?”
The free kick. Direct shot on goal. Twenty yards out.
Old Dex wouldn't have hesitated. New Dex felt the fear creep in. What if I missed? What if I let everyone down?
But then I looked at the stands again. At Rosalie, on her feet, hands pressed together in front of her mouth like a prayer.
Do it anyway.
“Yeah,” I told Max. “I want to take it.”
He grinned and stepped back. “Then make it count.”
I placed the ball, stepped back, and took three deep breaths. The goalkeeper positioned his wall. The referee blew the whistle.
I ran up and struck the ball with the inside of my foot, curving it up and over the wall. The goalkeeper dove but couldn't reach it.
The ball nestled into the top corner of the net.
3-1.
This time, when my teammates mobbed me, I let myself feel it. The joy, the relief, the pride. I'd done it. Not perfectly, but I'd done it.
We held on for the final twenty minutes, Redwood unable to break through our defense. When the final whistle blew, we'd won 3-1.
My first game back. Two goals. A clean performance with no panic attacks, no freezing up, no phantom pains that stopped me from playing.
I'd done it.
I was officially back.
My name was shouted from several sides, but my eyes pulled me to section C, where Rosalie stood screaming it together with Ivy and Nova.
Max was in front of them within minutes, kissing Ivy over the railing, and I wanted to do the same. Instead, I joined the rest of the team and headed to the locker room to change back before our bus ride, ignoring that Maddox and Aaron both headed for the girl.
In less than twenty minutes, I was showered and dressed in my Titan’s sweat set, ready to head to the bus and back on campus.
