Chapter 11
Zoe
Landing in Seattle after Florida feels like crossing into another dimension. Rain greets us like an old friend. The Orlando sun is gone. The sticky heat. The constant AC. The blue skies. Seattle this time of year is gray, wet, and cold enough to creep under your collar.
Wesley complains in the baby carrier. A few drops hit his face outside the airport and he lets me know, loudly, that he hates it.
“That kid’s starting to pick up Iris’s attitude,” Hades mutters as she passes me. “If I were you, I’d watch out.”
But what hurts most is stepping off the plane fifteen feet from Tessa and pretending we’re strangers after spending the second week of camp sleeping together. She talks to Sara about something that looks important. She barely glances at me. Professional distance, like we agreed.
The next days turn into a routine that feels weirdly comforting. Morning training with the team while Wesley stays with my mom. Lunch. Nap. Sometimes rehab or another session in the afternoon.
Sara runs my rehab on paper. We don’t want problems. Tessa supervises from a distance, always professional, always correct.
She talks through everything with the technical staff.
Hades insists on documenting every decision and staying in the loop.
With the asshole I married and divorced, she’s probably right.
Still, it wears me out to pretend I don’t think about her nonstop. To pass her in the facility and not grab her, drag her somewhere private, bite her clothes off, and make love until my brain shuts up.
Thursday afternoon, when I’m about to leave, Hades stops me by the elbow before I can slip out.
“Zoe. A minute.”
My blood turns to ice. It’s never good when she wants to talk alone. Her face is hard to read, but it always is.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, careful, once we’re in her office and she shuts the door.
“You should sit,” she says, pointing at a chair across from her desk with one blunt finger.
Bad sign.
“You’re not renewing me, are you?” I murmur.
“What? Jesus, Zoe.” Hades rubs her forehead like I give her a headache on purpose.
“You’ve been in this game too long. The season hasn’t even started.
I have no idea if I’m renewing you. Right now you’re adapting well to training.
You’re not the fastest midfielder on the roster yet, but you’re the smartest.” She leans back.
“This isn’t about that. It’s something else. ”
“Okay,” I say, shrugging, not sure if I should feel more or less scared.
“Did you talk to Tessa this morning?”
“About what?”
“About an ethics complaint she received.”
“What? What do you mean an ethics complaint?” Confusion spikes into my voice.
“An anonymous complaint has reached the league,” Hades says, jaw tight, like she’s already picturing paperwork.
“It alleges an inappropriate relationship between a medical staff member and a player. Conflict of interest and all that crap. Possible favoritism in medical calls, blah, blah, blah. The usual bullshit.”
“Diana, I—”
“Don’t explain it to me.” She lifts a hand and cuts me off. “Whatever is or isn’t between you two isn’t my business as long as it doesn’t hurt the team. For all I care, you can fuck as much as you want as long as you don’t show up tired. But you need to know this can complicate things.”
“Fuck,” I blow out.
“Exactly.”
I drag my hands down my face. Nate. It has to be Nate. After Florida. After Iris and the rest of the girls shredded his story online. This is revenge.
“Can I talk to her?”
Hades watches me for a long beat, like she’s deciding if I’m a risk or a human.
“She’s in her office.” Her voice turns sharp again. “But Méndez, be careful. Whatever you do outside of here is yours. Inside the club facilities, I want distance. That anonymous complaint probably goes nowhere, but I don’t want it touching your custody case with the kid.”
“Understood.”
**
When I get there, Tessa sits at her desk, going through medical reports.
“Diana told you,” she says, even though she knows the answer.
“It’s Nate,” I say. “It’s him.”
“It’s the most likely,” Tessa answers, calm on the surface. “But it’s anonymous, so we’ll never know for sure.”
“I know it’s him,” I insist.
Tessa sighs and rubs her eyes with her fingers. The gesture makes her look younger. More exposed. More human. It’s the same thing she did in college when she was worried about an exam.
“What does this mean?” I ask, lowering my voice. “For you. I mean.”
She shrugs like it’s all garbage, but it’s garbage she has to carry anyway.
“It means I get investigated,” she says. “They review every decision I make on your case from day one. Every report. Every clearance. Every time I decide you’re ready for the next step. That kind of thing.”
“They won’t find anything. You’ve been flawless.”
“I’ve been as professional as I can with the medical part.” Her mouth tightens. “But the rest…” She stops. Pauses too long. Worry hangs off her like wet fabric.
“What’s the worst that can happen?”
“The worst?” She exhales through her nose. “If they prove favoritism, temporary suspension. A permanent note in my file. My reputation questioned at every future job. Years of career building, tossed into the trash.”
“You’re not thinking about leaving for another club, right?” I hear the plea in my own voice and hate it. “Please tell me it doesn’t even cross your mind.”
“No.”
One word. She says it with so much conviction it almost makes me shake.
“I promise you this time is different,” she adds. “And for once in my life, I want to keep that promise.”
“Tessa—”
“Let me finish, please.” She reaches over the desk and takes my hands, squeezing them.
Light, but real. “I’m scared. Of the investigation.
Of what happens to my career. But mostly I’m scared it affects Wes’s custody case.
That I mess this up and lose you forever.
But fear isn’t a good enough reason to leave anymore.
It doesn’t work. I don’t want it to work. ”
“Are you trying to make me cry?”
“You’re ridiculous,” she says, and then she winks like she didn’t just crack my ribs open. “See you tonight at your place.”
**
Tessa shows up at eight with a plastic container full of food.
Wesley stops crawling and lifts his head. The second he sees Tessa, he sits and throws his arms up to be picked up. Since we got back from Florida, he barely wants the car seat. He either crawls or demands arms. No in-between.
We sit on the living room couch, my head on Tessa’s shoulder while the baby plays with her hair, fascinated by the strands slipping between his fingers. Tessa doesn’t even try to stop him.
“You expecting someone at this hour?” Tessa asks when the doorbell rings.
When I open the door, I can’t stop myself from putting a hand to my forehead.
Iris stands there wearing a headband with two antennae, holding a bottle of red wine and a balloon that says “Happy Retirement.”
“If this is a hint, you’re screwed,” I say. “I’m not retiring this year. Also, who’s going to rack up more assists than me?”
“It was the only balloon left in the store.” Iris squints past me. “Wait. The boss can’t read yet, right?”
“He’s ten months,” I remind her.
“But he’s super smart. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about babies.” Iris waves it off like facts are optional. “Okay, yeah, it makes sense he can’t read. Give him to me!” she demands, practically yanking Wesley out of Tessa’s hands.
The good thing about surprise Iris visits is she drops onto the floor to play with Wes, wears him out, and lets us eat in peace.
“Goal!” Iris says for the hundredth time, rolling a ball across the rug. “Come on, say it.” She groans. “It sucks my name is too hard for a baby. I wanted it to be his first word.”
Tessa rolls her eyes.
“Did you hear that?” Iris yells. “He said it.”
“He said ‘bo,’” Tessa argues.
“Uh, no.” Iris looks offended. “He said ‘goal’ clearly. If you don’t believe me, fine, we're cool, but he said it.”
Wesley grabs Iris’s ponytail. Iris doesn’t flinch. She’s too busy smelling the kid’s head.
“He needs to sleep,” I remind her.
“Are you kicking me out?”
“If he misses his window, it’s impossible to get him down,” I say.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it.” Iris waggles her fingers in the air. “You need him deeply asleep so you can…” Iris makes another little hand motion.
“Get out, Iris. And don’t show up late to training unless you want Hades to kill you. With the party life you have, I don’t know how you keep scoring, seriously.”
“Oh, and if Nate tries to mess with you, tell me.” Iris drops her voice. “I know people. People who know things…”
I know it’s theater. Iris Vance can’t hurt a fly, no matter how tough she acts. But I also know she’d move heaven and earth to help me.
“Thanks, Iris. Now go.”
“Don’t thank me.” She bumps my shoulder with a light punch. “Just take care, okay? And take care of the doc. She’s magic. I like her.” Iris grins. “And just so you know, you’re selfish with the baby. Learn to share.”
Wes takes twenty minutes to fall asleep. He protests every time I try to put him in the crib, like he knows tonight matters and he wants in. In the end, Tessa hums something I don’t recognize, some soft melody, and Wes gives up.
“That Iris is…” Tessa pauses, searching for the right word as she starts to undress. “Interesting.”
“She’s a human-shaped disaster,” I admit, biting my lower lip because I can’t stop looking at her nipples.
“It’s obvious she cares about you.”
“I know I can count on her,” I whisper. “And the rest of the team.” I take Tessa’s hand and lead her to the bed.