Tyson.
I haven’t talked to him since I found out about the house.Hishouse. On his land. Michigan. States away. A future I was left in the dark on. It’s hard not to overthink it.
I close my eyes for a second and the ache of not talking to him tugs somewhere deep in my chest. I miss him. Of course I miss him. I don’t think there’s ever been a time we’ve gone a whole week without saying something—some dumb joke, some late-night text.
And still, there’s a sting I can’t shake. Not from distance, exactly, but from the secret he kept. It shouldn’t matter this much, but it does. If he’s making plans somewhere else, away from me, what does that mean for us? He talked about the future, and I believed him. I still do, mostly.
It’s a small crack, but it still hurts.
Before I get out of the car, I shake my hands out, trying to pull myself together. The gym is empty—I’d asked the staff to give me this first day alone. We’re not open for members or anything; it’s just me, trying to find my footing again. To stand inside the walls that hold so many good memories, and remember those instead of the ones who tried to take something that wasn’t theirs.
The air whips against my cheeks as I wrap my scarf tighter and make the short walk to the back door. I punch in the new security code, step inside, and flip on the first lights.
I take a few steps in and turn the rest of the lights on, just as I feel someone standing in front of me. “Blair, I don’t want to scare you,” someone says and I immediately scream. And then I see that it’s Dylan, and I stop.
My hand clutches my chest and my eyes feel like they might fall straight out of my skull. I yell, “What are you doing in here? What the fuck, Dylan?”
He steps back and says, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the best way to not scare you. Tiffany, she let me in. I promise I mean no harm.” When he steps forward, I step back, needing to keep the space between us.
My breathing is shallow and quick, the air thin like there’s none for me to grab. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
Dylan is trying not to smile as he says, “I’m sorry. We didn’t really think this part through.” He’s trying not to laugh.
“We? What do you mean we?” When it’s clear I’m not going to have a heart attack or pass out, I set my bag down on the floor, take my coat off and hang it on the hook.
My coach smiles at me, and nothing makes any sense. “Let me show you.” He stands next to me, wrapping a cautious arm around my shoulder. We walk toward the main part of the gym and when we turn the corner, that’s when I see them.
My teammates. Maybe the whole team. It’s an entire room full of men, trying to be quiet and they’re all wearing the same jersey.
My jersey.Around the room are balloons and a few ‘Congratulations’ banners hang from the ceiling across the mirrors.
When they see me, in unison, they yell, “Surprise!”
It makes me jump and, again, a heart attack isn’t out of the question. When I can catch my breath, I ask, “What’s all this?”
And that’s when I see him. Tyson. Walking forward from the group, wearing the grin I dream about. A number seven on his front—he really is wearing my jersey.
“We wanted to try and show you how much we care. What happened with Oscar at the facility and then here, in the place you’ve built, wasn’t okay. Actually, it was pretty fucked up.”
Our teammates laugh from behind him at the brash honesty of his words. I catch myself almost smiling, the closest I’ve been in a week.
“Blair, we’re some of your biggest fans. You deserved a welcome back that proved that to you.” He says each letter of the word slow, on purpose, and it’s an inside thing only the two of us know. How I told him to prove it to me—that he wanted more. “That you belong on the team, in Cosmos blue.”
The guys immediately start to clap as Tyson finishes and before anyone else can say anything, I hear Zack yell from the corner, “WE LOVE YOU, BLAIR! THANKS FOR SAVING OUR ASS THIS SEASON.”
Everyone claps and cheers for Zack. Cheers for me.
Coach Dylan steps in and says, “I’m so sorry for how that all happened. I should have called security the first time he crossed the line, and that’s on me. I hope you’re ready to come back to the team, to the facility, but if you’re not—we get it.”
The men around me all nod in understanding. They do get it. It might be true that they actually get me.
“Now, we have a photographer here, and we’d like to take some pictures that the Cosmos PR team can post—with your approval, of course—showing losers like whoever did this that we stand with you and you’re part of our team. Andwe’rethe lucky ones.”
A team photographer waves and starts putting us all together. I move where I’m supposed to as team members smile at me, give me high-fives, tell me good job. The entire time I’m trying not to melt into a puddle on the floor.
We take a few normal photos and then the guys ask if they can lift me on their shoulders. I let them do what they want, laughing the entire time. And I love the way the gym feels. Full. Brave. Safe.
“That’s a wrap for us,” Coach Dylan announces as he checks with the photographer that they got the shot. “We know you’re getting back in the swing of things, but we hope to see you at practice tomorrow.”
