With her hands on my chest, she tilts her tear-streaked face up to mine. “I was biased today, Lucca. I knew you wanted to win, and I wanted it, too.”
I blink. “You do understand that gifting me a yellow card isn’t helpful.”
Maggie groans. “Yes, I know that. That’s why I did it.” She presses her forehead into my chest. “I realized my feelings, my biasesduringthe game, and…” She hiccups with her next breath. “That’s wrong. I can’t be biased. It’sethicallywrong. So, I overcompensated, and you paid for it.”
I’m starting to understand. The fog is clearing. “It’s okay.” I rub my hand over her back. “We still won. No harm, no foul.”
“It’s not okay,” she cries. “It’s the very opposite of okay. A whole lot of harm. A whole lot of foul.” Her back shakes with another onset of tears.
“Okay. Okay. You’re right. It’s going to be fine, though.” I kiss the top of her head. “Promise.”
“It’s not.” She blinks up at me, then her eyes skirt to my bare chest. She sniffs, her head shaking. “Especially when you come in here like this. Lucca, where is your shirt?”
Forty-Four
“I can do this,”I say to no one but myself. I pace in my small living room. My eyes fall to the photo of Vovó. “Help me figure this out, Vovó.”
I can’t lose Maggie.
I have become as attached to that woman as Vovó was to my grandfather and to me. I don’t care if it’s out of character. The yearning is real. The pit of my gut tells me I need Maggie.
“I could give the majors a shot—” I look at the photo of my grandmother, believing she’ll give me a sign if this is the answer.
Nanners stretches out on my couch, yawning. My plan does not interest her.
It’s not as if I haven’t thought about the majors. Every minor player wants to make it to the majors. But there’s so much more to it than the world realizes. The transition isn’t simple. Or easy. And if it hasn’t happened yet, it’s not going to suddenly work out just because I need Maggie McCrae in my life.
“I could ref. Maggie and I could be a team.” But even as Isay the words, I know I wouldn’t like it. But then, for Maggie… I might be able to do it. “Coaching!” I dart my eyes back to Vovó’s picture, but my grandmother doesn’t speak to me from her framed photo. “There’s an answer. I know there is.” Because I’m not giving her up.
I pull out my phone. I need help. I’m not going to solve this on my own, and Nanners is zero help. I keep waiting for a sign from Vovó, but it’s not coming either. Just like I can’t win a match on my own. I need my team.
Me: What can I do instead of soccer?
Roman: Instead of soccer? Confused.
Zev: Who stole Lucca’s phone? Tru? Wade? Is that you?
Callum: What do you mean, Lucca? We need more.
Me: I can’t play and have Maggie. So, what else can I do?
Zev: Whoa. Serious? You’re actually asking what else you should do? For a woman?
Me: Her name is Maggie.
Me: Can someone here help me with answers? I already know the question.
Callum: We’re just wrapping our heads around this. You’re really that serious about Maggie?
Zev: Because you’re never serious about women.
Me: Well, I’m serious about Maggie.
Roman: And you have to choose between her and your career?
Me: Yes.
Roman: Whoa.
