“¿Puedes jugar todavia?”he asked, gently.
“Sí,I can still play. If I have surgery, maybe. I could try out for another team but… I’m not sure that’s what I want anymore. Besides, I’ll always be at risk for more injuries, and there will always be someone better and faster than me.”
“You’ve worked too damn hard for this. Don’t let the competition kill your dream, Rey. You deserved that shot on the nationals!”
“Deserved it, had it, lost it,” I said flatly. “Now I need to figure out what to do without it.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance and I idly wondered if it was still raining. I hadn’t heard it since I came inside.
“You could retire,” Max said after a minute.
“Right,” I scoffed.
“You’re thirty-three, Rey. It’s not unheard of in the world of soccer to retire in your thirties.”
I dropped my head to my hands, pressing two fingers to my temple. I hated that word.Retire.It didn’t mean the same when you were forced into it.
“I don’twantto retire!” I nearly shouted. “Iwantto keep playing and not have to worry about being replaced by someone else on the team. But my fucking body won’t allow it! Even running with the kids is too much sometimes. And it’s not just the knee, Max. I just don’t think I’m cut out for it anymore and maybe I need to try to accept that.”
He drew in a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help. Fuck, this really sucks!” he repeated. “I’d give you a beer if I were there. No, wait. This deserves tequila.”
I chuckled. Max never drank. “Gracias.”
“How is the clinic going though?”
I wasn’t prepared for the abrupt change of topic. “Uh, it’s okay.”
He laughed. “Don’t sound too convincing.”
“It’s fine. I just miss playing.”
“I know you do. But I know you like coaching too. So it can’t be that bad, can it?”
“No, it’s not bad. I’m just not a real coach,” I said quickly, though something in me snagged at those words. They felt… wrong coming out of my mouth, which was weird. I wasn’t a coach. I was a player.Wasn’t I?
“To those kids you are,” Max said quickly, as if reading my mind. “You’re good at it too. I remember seeing you with the kids in Mexico City when I visited you.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
The conversation was leaving me slightly lightheaded. I’d never considered full-time coaching before. I’d always just stepped in when I needed to. But Rome had suggested I stay on permanently more than a few times, even brought up hiring me as a manager of sorts. Maybe I needed to give it some consideration.
Could I do that? Could I give up my hopes of playing professional soccer again to teach kids? The idea seemed ridiculous and yet, oddly satisfying. I enjoyed watching my students grow as young athletes. It filled me with a sense of pride and joy each time I saw them achieve a new goal. I had assumed that was because I was involved in soccer at all, but the more I considered it, the more I had to admit it was being a part of their progress that had meant something to me. It was unbelievably freeing to really grasp that. I had been so stuck on being let go of the team that I hadn’t stopped to examine my own heart on the field. I still belonged there but maybe in a different capacity now.
Andthatthought sparked a whole different fire I didn’t even know was there. If I continued to coach these kids, I would have the chance to see more of Harrison’s natural talent unfold. I had no doubt that kid had a great career ahead of him if he wanted it, and I would love to see it develop. But as I pictured him growing up, I realized I could support him off the field too. I could look out for him and support him in other areas of his life, where he didn’t have a steady hand to guide him. If I stayed, Harrison would have one less role model in his life he’d have to say goodbye to.
I also wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Jake, which sent an entirely different kind of thrill through me. If I stayed, it would give us a chance to ease into whatever this was between us, give it time to grow into something deeper. Jake’s deer-in-the-headlights look a couple nights ago flashed in my mind, dimming some of that hope. No matter how much I wanted that, I knew he wasn’t ready for it. Not yet. And I understood that. Until recently, I hadn’t been either. But it just felt… right with Jake. I don’t even know when it had happened, but at some point, I’d gone from just wanting another chance to see Jake again, to craving his presence when we weren’t together. Sometimes it was an almost unbearable need too. There were days it affected my mood if I didn’t get a chance to at least talk to him.
Fuck.
I really wanted a chance to see what this could grow into.
But I also didn’t want to make a career decision based on another person, especially if that person wasn’t even sure he wanted a relationship with me. I knew how stupid that would be, no matter how wonderful Jake made me feel.
“Can I just say something?” Max asked, jarring me out of my thoughts. He had been quiet while I processed everything, which is one of the things I loved the most about him. How perceptive and knowing he could be, even over the phone.
“Um, maybe?” I teased. “That sounds kind of ominous.”
He laughed. “I just want you to remember that soccer isn’t everything, Rey. I know it feels like it, but it’s not. You’ve always had bigger dreams than just being on a national team. We both do.”
