8. Chapter 8
Kingsley
Although it was only six p.m., the sun was about to go down.
We’d get to play roughly an hour before it got dark.
I wasn’t too worried about Harley’s safety here.
We could easily spot anyone who approached.
Not to mention her ex hadn’t struck me as dumb.
A detective couldn’t afford to commit a crime with this many witnesses around.
“So you guys do wear something else other than your habits sometimes,” Harley said as we exited the van and walked toward the field where a group of teens was gathered. She hadn’t brought up her ex or his killing spree since bringing me into the loop. Then again, we hadn’t had much time alone.
“Yup.” Matt, wearing sweats and a sweater just like me, grinned. “Brother Samuel played in his habit once and thought it was a great idea to make a sliding tackle. I’ll leave the result to your imagination.”
I shoved him. “You make it sound like it was the biggest scandal.”
“It was pretty scandalous for a monk.”
Chuckling, Harley eyed me but didn’t say anything. She wore purple yoga pants, an oversized gray T-shirt, and runners, her ponytail bouncing with every step. While sitting in class, my mind had wandered more than once to those freckles and hazel eyes. Her plush, pink lips—
“Hey guys!” Giuliana broke away from the other eight teens and came flying towards us. She was fourteen and a whirlwind of a girl. Sometimes she wouldn’t stop talking and bombarding us with questions. I’d never tell the others, but she held a special place in my heart.
“Hey, Giuli.” I smiled at her. “How are you?”
“Better, now that you’re here.” Her amber eyes, which reminded me so much of the whiskey my family produced, sparkled.
“I like what you did with your hair.”
“Thank you.” Beaming, she held up her black braids. “It only took me like a hundred attempts. My arms almost fell off.” Her attention snapped to Harley, and she proffered a hand. “I’m Giuliana. You’re gorgeous, and your hair is fire. Like, literally!”
The other teens came over and gathered around us.
Harley shook Giuliana’s hand, her lips pulling into a smile. “I’m Harley, and you , girl, are the gorgeous one here. And what a beautiful name you have.”
“Harley?” Giuliana practically squealed. “That’s about the coolest name I’ve ever heard!”
That elicited a chuckle from Harley, and a grin from me. I agreed—it fit her red hair and extraverted personality.
“Can we begin?” Jason, one of the oldest at seventeen, tossed up a soccer ball and caught it again.
“We can.” Matt knocked the ball out of Jason’s hand, received it with his foot, and took off kicking it like a rocket. A flood of teens chased after him.
Grinning, I turned to Harley. “Are you in?”
“She has a crush on you.” Her gaze followed the rowdy bunch, her mouth twitching.
“Who has what?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
I frowned. “Notice what?”
“Oh, Brother Samuel.” A wide grin on her face, Harley shook her head. “Giuliana. A girl only looks at a man like that when she has a crush. Are you seriously telling me you didn’t notice?”
I sought Giuliana out in the crowd. Though she was playing with the others, her gaze kept wandering back to me.
I closed my eyes. Groaned inwardly. “You serious?”
“One hundred percent. I can’t blame her.” Harley winked at me, then jogged onto the field.
My jaw went slack. Had she just . . . flirted with me? And what about Giuliana? Did she really have a crush on me?
My gut contracted. How was that even possible? All I had done was be nice. And I was way too old for her. Twice her age.
“Brother Samuel.” Giuliana came skipping toward me. “Can we talk?”
The urge to bolt hit hard, my brain scrambling for an exit. There was none.
Calm down, man. It’s not like she’ll confess her undying love.
I cleared my throat and forced myself to look in her face. “What can I do for you?”
Pulling on her braids, she stared at the sun-bleached hair tips. “My dad got arrested.”
My heart sank. Most of these teens came from broken homes, and their stories were heart-wrenching. Giuliana’s felt the most personal for a reason I couldn’t pinpoint. “I’m sorry to hear that, Giuli.”
Her big eyes came to me. The pain swimming in them was a punch to my gut. “He’s—” Her chin trembled. “He’s on death row.”
Holy . . . I roughed a hand over my mouth. What could I even say to that?
“I mean, it’s not official yet, but it doesn’t look good.” Giuliana threw herself into my arms, clinging to me like I was her lifeline. “I hate him so much!” A sob broke out of her as she buried her face in my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her frail frame and rocked her gently. Crushes didn’t matter right now. Seemed like I was her source of comfort, and I wouldn’t withhold that from her.
Not wanting the other teens to gawk, I gave Matt a nod to proceed with the game. He signaled his understanding.
Giuliana cried for a while longer, then she peeled herself away from me. “Your old man is in the joint too, right?”
“He is.”
“What a bunch of losers.” Wiping a hand under her nose, she mumbled something in Italian.
“Where are you staying now?” From what I knew, her mother wasn’t in the picture.
Her gaze skipped to the game, where Jason mercilessly dribbled around three opponents. “My uncle. He’s a good guy.”
Hopefully better than her father. I squeezed her shoulder to regain her attention. “I know it might not feel this way, but God is always with you. He sees your pain and tears, and He won’t waste your suffering.”
Giuliana closed her eyes. Nodded. “I know. Mamma always said that.” Her face crumpled again. “I miss her so much.”
Cupping the back of her head, I once again drew her against my chest. Every sob wrecking her body cut like a knife into my heart. Father, only You know the pain she’s in, and only You can offer the comfort she needs. Lavish Your love on her.
“Can we play soccer now?” she finally sniffled.
“Do you want to?”
“Yes! I’m on your team!”
I chuckled at the rapid-fire answer. “All right.”
We joined the game, and that usual glow returned to Giuliana’s face.
My thoughts changed course when I saw Harley play. She was on the opposing team, proving to be one heck of an offense duo with Jason. Both teams consisted of a keeper and five players rather than the usual eleven.
Harley received a pass from Felix, left two of my teammates in the dirt, then came right at me. I stopped her—or more so, the ball—and she shot past me without it. I kicked the ball forward.
Or wanted to, but Harley had stopped it from behind me, causing me to stumble over it. I fished for the ball with my bare foot, hindering her from moving on.
“You don’t stand a chance.” She rammed into me, trying to shove me away by using hip force. The woman had more strength and competitive edge than I’d expected.
“That so?”
“Watch and learn.” She hip-bumped me several times, then somehow managed to snag the ball off my foot.
I chased after her as she charged toward our goal, her ponytail whipping behind her. About ten yards diagonal to our keeper, she drew her left leg back, her muscles rippling under the tight yoga pants.
Realizing I wouldn’t be able to catch up in time, I went for a slide tackle, aiming for the ball. It cannoned off my foot.
Clang! Hit the left upright so hard the entire goal shook.
It bounced back, and—
Smack! Right in Harley’s face.
Her head snapped back, and she dropped into the grass.