Page 77 of Golden Goal

“I know.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “You’re not worried?”

I shake my head. “I know you think all of that is your fault, but it’s not. Have you ever thought about talking to someone? Working through this?” As the words leave my mouth, I realize Coach said almost the exact same thing to me a few weeks ago, maybe he had a point.

But my situation is different from Becca’s. She has clearly been dealing with trauma from her childhood, and my situation revolves around a shitty ex, who said shitty things to me.

“My dad’s been suggesting for years that I talk to a professional.” She frowns, her forehead wrinkling. “I always thought I was fine with everything.” She blanches. “I mean, not fine, but surviving, because everyone’s got shit they deal with, and I figured this was mine. But”—she blows out a breath—“now it’s starting to keep me from something, someone, I want. Maybe it’s time to face my past, my fears.” Her voice breaks, and more tears stream down her face.

And, hell, if she didn’t say exactly what I told Coach a few weeks ago. Maybe, like her, I’m not fine even though I think I am. Maybe I should talk to a professional. Even if it’s only one session, and they tell me there’s nothing they can help me with.

But now is not the time to think about my own problems. Now’s the time to comfort her. I open my arms, and this time, she crawls into my lap and lets me hold her. I use my thumb to wipe away her tears before tilting her chin so I can see her eyes.

“I’m here for you, sweetheart. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.”

We sit in silence for a while before she yawns.

“I think I’m going to go home.”

“You could stay here,” I offer.

She gives me a watery smile. “Thanks, but I think I need a little space to process everything.”

“Okay.” I stand and walk her back to her apartment, kissing her at the door.

I grip the two cups of coffee in my hands as I make my way from the elevator bank toward the medical wing of the arena, saying a silent prayer that Becca isn’t with a patient.

It’s been a couple days since I’ve seen her, and I miss her. I’m also worried about her. She’s texted me multiple times to make sure that Hazel is fine, and I have a feeling she’s still blaming herself for what happened.

Don’t get me wrong, I freaked out the first time it happened to me too, but the fact that Becca thought I was going to blame her, or that it was her fault, guts me. Hopefully my gift will make her finally see how not upset I am about it. I peek my head into her office and find her sitting at her desk.

“Knock, knock. I come bearing gifts.” I hold out the coffee cup as I walk into her office.

“Bless you,” she says, leaning up to give me a quick kiss before taking the cup from me and taking a big sip.

I take a seat in the chair across from her, grinning.

“I have a gift for you.”

She peers at me over the rim of her cup. “Something else?”

I set the bag that was tucked under my arm on her desk. “Will you wear this to the game tonight?”

“Depends what’s in it.” She punctuates each word with a bounce of her eyebrows.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart.” I growl.

Except now I have a different image in my head. I wonder how she feels about toys. The vibrating kind. Kat had one, maybe multiple, but she never let me use them on her. I give myself a mental shake, focusing back on the woman in front of me.

“Open the bag.”

Her cheeks tinge with pink as she pulls the bag closer to her and reaches into it.

“You didn’t have to get me a jersey,” she mumbles, peering up at me. “I have a couple already.”

“Not this one you don’t. Turn it around.” My voice is gravelly, filled with emotion for what this means.