Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
~HENDRIX~
The final whistle blows and all I can think of is thank fuck.
I cannot wait to get off that field and back into the locker room so that I can break down in peace.
My head drops and I head off of the field.
Out of the corners of my eyes, I see teammates are starting to approach me, but I wave them off. Cassie is the first one to speak to me.
“Hen, it’s okay. This was a crappy game all around. You did everything you could but let’s face it, none of us had a good game.” Cassie moves to put a hand on my shoulder, but I give her a look that stops her in her tracks.
“Yeah, well you didn’t miss five saves that cost us,” I bite out.
My tone causes Cassie to jump back. She doesn’t bother to say another word and gives me a wide berth when we head over to bench to line up to bid the other team a ‘good game.’ For them it was, I think bitterly.
I move on autopilot, over to the bench, drinking a sip of water and then lining up in the front like I’m supposed to.
The goalies are always in the front of the line.
I tap hands and wish everyone a good game.
Once I’m finished going through the line, I head straight for the bench so that I can grab my gear and get to the locker room.
I catch Jase coming towards me and I immediately hold my hands up.
“Hendrix, come on, we need to talk about what happened out there,” Jase tells me.
I shake my head again. “Nope, we are not talking about that.”
He actually chuckles and tries again. “We will talk about it, Hendrix. Come on, we’ve all had games like that. The whole team was off balance today. Watts is going to talk to them. Right now, I need to talk to you,” he tells me. His eyes are pleading with me to just give in.
I don’t want to.
“Can’t I just have a few minutes to myself?” I ask him. I’m not trying to fight with him. I just want to be left alone.
“You want me to leave you alone so that you can sulk, is that it?”
“What do you think?” I shoot back. I look around the stadium and see that some of the Blaze players have walked over to see the fans and sign autographs but there is no way that I will be joining them.
“You should, you know,” Jase says, following my eye line.
“Nope, not happening.” I push my gloves into the keeper bag and begin to gather my warm-up top. “I’m sorry, but I just want to be left alone, Jase.”
“I can’t do that, Hen. You know that. Come on, just talk to me. What happened out there?” he asks me. His questions aren’t accusatory, he’s legitimately curious. I hate that I’m being so difficult right now.
I sigh. “I don’t know, Jase. They shot the ball and I couldn’t stop it. I could track it; that wasn’t the problem. But I couldn’t read the shots. They were just too damn fast for me,” I admit, shrugging sheepishly.
“Okay, well, we can work with that. I’ll talk to Watts and see what we can do to recreate some of the shots to help.
I’ll get you ready for the next game. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re ready.
” He pats my shoulder. “You don’t need to take this loss so personally.
It was a million little things that led up to it.
” I go to protest, but he holds his hand up, silencing me.
“Hendrix, was your head in this game? Or were you distracted and worried about something else? Maybe your brother in the stands made it hard for you to focus.”
“Please, I’ve played in front of family and friends before. My head was one hundred percent in this game. I was ready and prepared. I locked in. I went through my normal pre-game routine, like I always do. The focus was there, I swear it,” I adamantly say.
Jase breaks into a smile and nods. “See, this is not on you. It was just the perfect storm of the players getting through the midfield, through the defense and hitting the right spots in the goal. I’ll study it and make sure this doesn’t happen again, okay?
Go shower and stop beating yourself up. This isn’t your fault,” he reassures me for what feels like the hundredth time.
I hate that he’s trying to make me feel better and that I’m not buying it for one second. Jase means well but right now, it feels like nothing could make me feel better.
“I’m going to go into the locker room,” I tell Jase, forcing a smile. I can tell by the way he’s studying me that he doubts I have stopped blaming myself. “Thanks for the pep talk.” I try to sound positive, but it comes off flat.
“Okay, stop by the team room, please. Watts wants to talk to the team,” he says, patting my shoulder before heading over to Coach Andie.
I sigh and head towards the locker room. I move past the line of fans that are on the sidelines. Some of them call my name, but I just keep on walking. I hear a familiar voice calling to me.
“Monroe, come here, Hen.” It’s Ash.
I head over in his direction. “I really have to get to the team room. But I’ll see you in a bit, okay? I just need a minute,” I tell him, hoping he’ll understand.
He nods slowly, staring at me. “Danny was telling me about everyone heading over the Backwoods, were you planning on going?”
I think for a second and then nod. “Yeah, I could use a drink after this game.”
He gives me a tentative smile. “Should I just meet you over there?”
“Sure, that would be great. You’re not heading over alone, are you?” I ask him, looking around to see if I can find Danny or Jase.
“Yeah, Danny said he was going to head over in a while. Give Mac a bit of space. I thought you might want it too,” he admits.
“I really could. Thanks, Ash. I’ll see you over there in a little while. Sorry about the game,” I say, getting ready to turn and head into the tunnel that leads to the locker room.
“Me too, kiddo. But I know you did the best that you could,” Ash calls to my retreating form.
I turn and smile to him. It’s forced but hopefully, he’s too far away to tell. Then I continue toward the locker room. I pass by the team room and hear Watts is still in there talking to the team. I sigh. I have to go in there, but I don’t want to.
“Come on, Hendrix, open the door and get in there,” a voice calls out behind me.
I turn around and see Coach Andie standing there. “I was going to go in,” I lie.
“Uh-huh, that’s why I’m rounding up stragglers,” she says, shooting me a warm smile. “Relax, he’s not going to yell. We’re going to learn from this.”
I nod, slowly opening the door and finding a spot along the wall.
I listen to Watts say the same things that Jase did and even Coach Andie when she found me in the hallway.
She’s not wrong; he’s not yelling. He’s talking about how we are going to learn from this and use it to our advantage.
Sure, Portland beat us before but not this badly.
We just need to learn from it. And on and on he goes.
Jase takes a turn talking too, repeating the same message.
We all come together and chant Blaze on three before breaking.
I move toward the locker room with the rest of the team, but instead of getting a shower right away, I slump down on the bench and put my head in my hands.
Thankfully, my teammates and my friends know enough to keep their distance from me.
The only one who stops to say goodbye on her way out is Mac.
“I’m going to head over to the Backwoods. Are you coming?” she asks.
I look up and see there’s no smile on her face. Her blue eyes, usually full of light, are sad. She’s feeling it too. “Yeah, I’ll be over in a bit. Danny took Ash over there for me. Thank him for me, will you?”
She nods. “I will.” She turns to leave but stops herself. “We’ll figure this out, Hen. We have to.”
“I know we will, Mac. Thanks,” I tell her. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”
“See you in a bit.” With that, she’s gone.
I rise and look around the locker room and see that thankfully, I am alone in here.
Grabbing my shower caddy, I head into the showers to take a long hot shower.
When I let the tears fall, my sobs fill the empty shower area.
When my body is red and I’m all cried out, I make my way back to my locker, where I dry off and slowly start to dress.
Leaving the towel covering my breasts, I slide on my underwear and a pair of athletic shorts.
I’ve never felt so low in my life. Or less like a professional and more like a girl who is playing dress-up. I let five goals fall into the back of that net and I didn’t even touch one of them. How in the hell do I belong here?
I hear the locker room door squeak as it opens, made apparent by the silence of the room.
I hear shoes clicking across the floor. I would recognize the sound of those dress shoes anywhere.
August Cromwell is the only one in this building who wears them.
Everyone else in here wears sneakers or slides. But not August.
Of course he’d come here now. After I had the worst game of my season. After I cried myself hoarse in the shower, trying to cry out the shame.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” I say, my voice flat.
“I own the building,” he replies. Calm. Controlled. Like he hasn’t shattered my world before and managed to walk away from me.
Not turning to face him, I lower the towel so that he has a view of my bare back. “Please go.”
But he doesn’t. I can feel him behind me. He moves in closer. Close enough that my skin prickles with goosebumps. My body remembers him. It hasn’t been that long since he’s had his hands on it. I hate that I wish his hands were on me right now.
“You played angry tonight. I never saw you yelling at defenders the way you were tonight,” he tells me. “I could see your face in the cameras from the box. So much anger.”
My laugh comes out bitter and sharp. “Maybe I was imagining that I was yelling at you.”
Silence. Then the sound of his footsteps—measured, deliberate. He stops and I can tell he’s right behind me. I can smell him now. He smells of cedar, sweat and memories.