Chapter 33
It was one in the morning by the time Marisa finally parked her car in the parking garage near her apartment. The only spots left had been the rooftop ones, as everyone else in the neighborhood had wisely left their cars at home on New Year’s Eve.
She’d never claimed to be wise. If she had been, perhaps she could have connected the dots of her dismay a bit sooner and spared her heart the misery.
Marisa’s limbs were achingly sluggish as she hit the walkway that led to her apartment.
Her fingers and ear were numb from the constant tries at getting a hold of Alec, and she’d finally had to stop when her drained phone battery barked at her.
Apparently, the thing didn’t like the cold either and gave up the ghost a minute after midnight.
The air was always a few degrees colder in West Meadow than where her parents lived, and tonight was no different, though her town’s higher elevation came with the lovely added benefit of more snow.
Made for a miserable time trying to pull her keys out of her purse, but she managed, though not without dropping the things into a gray slush pile feet from her front door.
Happy frickin’ New Year to me.
She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut.
God, she couldn’t handle this. And she certainly wasn’t looking forward to walking into her tiny, empty apartment again, except this time with Alec’s letter.
His words alone would take up all the remaining space she’d constructed for herself, space she’d carefully crafted to keep the bad parts out and the good parts protected.
And he’d gone and muddled all that up, throwing her nice, safe pillows on the floor and rattling her previously sturdy shelves until all her emotions fell free.
Emotions that had no place to land and were as churned up and restless as the snow drifting around her.
Cursing seemed like too much effort, so she picked up her keys in begrudging silence. When she got to her feet, however, a set of long legs stretched out on the sole strip of dry pavement beneath her awning.
Legs that were connected to a brawny body that sat slumped against her front door.
Her heart skipped several beats.
Alec lifted his head at her approach and quickly got to his feet, brushing off the bits of snow that hadn’t been kept away by the overhang. A duffel bag sat on her doormat. “You’re home.”
She couldn’t breathe. Had it only been a week since she’d seen him?
His winter wear did nothing to hide the creases and exhaustion wrinkling every part of him.
Even from where she stood, she could see the bags under his eyes and the every-other-day shave his face hadn’t seen in a week.
Patches of his beard had already begun to fill in his hollow cheeks like mossy overgrowth finally given free rein.
He looked positively travel-rumpled and miserable.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just landed at Newark.”
“In this? It’s snowing, and it’s New Year’s Eve. Well, technically not anymore, I guess, but how are planes even flying now?”
“Not easily, but they’re managing. We touched down at eleven, and I came straight over.”
“You . . . what? You’ve just been waiting here? Until I got home?”
“My phone was shut off on the flight, and I wasn’t sure whether Cal gave you my letter . . . or if you were even interested in reading it.” A haunted graveness painted a new desperation on his features.
“He did, and I did,” she admitted, though she wasn’t sure what she was admitting. That she’d read his apology and it squeezed her heart with more questions and trepidation? Or that she still hurt every time she wondered whether she could trust him?
Because she wanted to. Desperately. But there was so much standing in the way of that decision, and sometimes, to keep oneself safe from the bad stuff, some of the good stuff had to be locked outside with it.
Alec nodded and threw his fists into his coat pockets, eyeing the sky as if he were expecting the snow to give him a cue for what to say next.
“You left,” she reminded him.
“I did. I had to. I needed to find a way to inject some of the worth you once saw in me back into the man I’d become.”
“And did you? Find a way to do that?”
He smiled sweetly at her, the corner of his mouth lifting that scar higher.
“I bloody well hope so. I met with Brennan, and together, we called a last-minute meeting with the higher-ups on my team. We managed to successfully negotiate the termination of my contract with Great Britain. Provided Dr. Campbell clears me in a couple of weeks, the team agreed to let me resume play for the rest of the season, in addition to giving me a nice retirement sendoff as I round out the remaining months.”
“That’s good. That’s what you wanted. It’ll free you up to go to Argentina. I’m sure the fans will be happy they get to celebrate you properly. You deserve it.”
He was silent for a moment. “I’m not going to Argentina, Marisa.”
She pushed her hat up higher on her head so she could make sure his lips said what she thought they said. “What?”
“It’s true, my career as a player will be ending, but not because I’m not getting out on my terms.” He took a hesitant step forward and freed one hand from his pocket, but he seemed to think better of reaching for her.
“Seeing you so excited going after your dreams and telling stories through your confections, despite the box others put you in for it, got me thinking about what excited me about rugby to begin with and the damn box I wound up in myself.”
The snow wasn’t letting up, nor was it a whipping chilly mess. The sky felt heavy but patient, as if it were holding off the worst of the weather just so Alec could finally say what Marisa had refused to hear for days following the fallout.
“Growing up, I had a neighbor. Robbie. He was the biggest Scotland Rugby Sevens fan. Literally. The man was the size of a small car, and back when Scotland had a team of its own, he was always following the lads. His enthusiasm for the sport was infectious, and I got swept up in it and never looked back. I even traveled to games with him when the team was playing locally, and Cal and I went over to his house to watch what international matches we could. Those were the best games, the ones we all enjoyed from the couch with crisps and Coke. Robbie was just so animated, he would jump up in front of the TV and act out the plays. Had my brother and me laughing our arses off. The bloke did a fair better job at keeping us engaged than any broadcast announcer, that was for certain. So, when I was old enough, I joined the local youth league and never looked back. Rugby has been my life and love, but I see now it was only ever meant to be a part of my story. The rest of it I’ve yet to write, because you’ve made me realize that my true enthusiasm for the game doesn’t just lie on the pitch but in the telling of it as well. ”
His exhausted gaze claimed hers, but this time, a spark of hope seemed to smooth out and brighten the haggard lines around his eyes.
“I’ve still got so much more to say about the sport I love.
So, I needed to make sure things were right with Great Britain before I hopefully move into the New York broadcasting booth at the start of the new season in October. ”
Marisa sniffed and shook her head, not sure what she was hearing. “Broadcasting? How?” she squeaked out, emotion choking off her vocal cords and making her words go all whiney.
“The bloke I met at the Ball. Martin Penhaus. You remember him?”
She nodded and dragged her arm beneath her nose. Totally gross, but she was past the point of caring.
“Apparently, he liked what I had to say about gaining viewers through investment in the streaming platforms and meeting fans where they are. I gave him a call, and we had a nice, long chat. Started telling him a few of my favorite rugby stories, both ones I featured in and ones I grew up hearing. He said he’d like to talk to the board at Global Sports Matrix and entertain some ideas about positioning the network to become the premier Rugby Sevens broadcaster for the American market, of course with a few key investments, sponsoring the next tournament, and whatnot.
The first of those key investments, he said, would be acquiring eager and noteworthy names to set the network up for success with its initial broadcasts.
If his proposal to the board passes in the New Year and he gets approval to move forward, he’d like to sign me on as a lead broadcaster doing analysis and interviews live from the pitch and, more importantly, from the booth in New York.
That last bit was a requirement for me, as I’m now in the market for property in the tri-state area.
That was one of the reasons I had to fly home, to make arrangements to get my flat in order so it can be listed on the market come the spring. ”
Alec took both hands out of his pockets and grabbed Marisa’s, tucking them inside the warmth of his open coat against his chest. To her surprise, she’d fisted them so tightly while holding on through Alec’s speech, her knuckles had begun turning white.
He started slowly unfurling her frozen fingers and, like old times, massaged the stiff joints, releasing every knot of tension into the snowy night air.
As she huddled closer to him, relaxing under the memory of his comforting heat, all of Marisa’s anger seemed to lessen and entangle with the torrent of happiness that she felt so damn guilty for leaning into.
In short, she was a goddamn mess, so the only thing she could manage to say was also the least contextually sensible thing. “I know those words weren’t really yours.” Alec stiffened, and realizing how he took her statement, Marisa rushed to clarify things. “The ones in the video, I mean.”
Marisa had to wait the entirety of five Mississippis before his shoulders fell and he spoke again.