I rub my thumb along the shovel’s wooden handle, debating what to say. Debating how much to say.
I told Mom including the name was a bad idea, but she insisted it was harmless. She was intent on trying to cheer me up.
“It wasn’t just the book,” Cassidy continues. “There was this…vibe between you guys. You acted differently after he arrived.”
“We met in Paris,” I say.
Aside from basic details, I’ve never discussed boys—men, at this stage of our lives—with my sister. There wasn’t much tosay on my end when we were younger. Cassidy was the popular, fun, outgoing Caldwell sister while I was the serious, socially awkward tomboy in grass-stained clothes.
“Sounds romantic.”
“It was.”
“What happened, Clairey?”
I turn the shovel over, blinking rapidly because I’m suddenly, embarrassingly on the brink of tears.
“Are we still going to the park, Mommy?” Tommy appears, and I steal a quick sniff while the commotion of the door opening and closing covers the sound.
“We sure are,” Cassidy replies. “Go put your shoes on, and I’ll be right in. I just need to talk to Aunt Claire for another minute.”
“Okay,” Tommy says happily, heading back inside.
Cassidy says nothing, waiting for me to reply.
“It was the Olympics,” I tell her. “He went home. I went home. If I hadn’t gotten so wrapped up in…everything, I would have seen it coming a mile away. And it was a long time ago. It’s ridiculous I’m even… It’s just weird, seeing him again. Hard—harder than I thought it would be.”
“So, you still have feelings for him?”
“It doesn’t matter, Cassidy.”
“Well”—she stands—“I’d be curious to know the answer. And based on how Otto looked at you last night, it would matter to him.”
My sister heads inside to help get Tommy ready for the park, leaving me sitting in mud, more confused than ever.
24
OTTO
Igrab the bottle of water and pack of gum off the register counter, tugging the brim of my Red Sox ball cap lower when a guy passing slows to stare at me. He doesn’t call out, and I don’t hang around to see if he recognized me. I stride down the corridor toward Gate 19, tucking the pack of spearmint in my pocket.
The Siege is collected in the section of seats closest to the window that overlooks the parked plane being prepared for our trip to Los Angeles. According to the display behind the desk, we’re boarding in twenty-five minutes.
Most players are on their phones. A few glance up and smile, registering my return.
I walk over to where Eliza, Meg, and Nicole are huddled. I assume they’re talking strategy, until I get close enough to hear Meg complaining about her mother-in-law. They all glance up as I approach.
“Here you go.” I hand Nicole the pack of gum she requested.
“Thanks, Otto,” she tells me, smiling as she takes it.
I don’t miss the amused look that passes between Meg and Eliza. Nicole is friendly with everyone, but she’s especially friendly with me.
We’re often thrown together during practice, working with the Siege goalies. We’re roughly the same age. And Nicole told me about a bad date she went on last weekend, so I know she’s single.
I sort of assumed a coach-coach fling would be frowned upon, but no one seems to be frowning about it. I don’t know if there are any official rules prohibiting one. I don’t care if there are any official rules prohibiting one because I can’t see past Claire, who is absolutely off-limits.
My phone rings with an incoming call.
