Chapter 22 #7
Kulti 2, Sal 0. He was right again. Anything could happen.
In eight months, I would be twenty-eight, and if I was really lucky and my body held out on me, I might have three or four years left in my career.
Maybe more. Maybe. I didn’t want to put too much hope into longer than that; my knee and my ankle would be the ones making the decision, and there wasn’t much I could do to change their mind when they decided they’d had enough.
So.
Europe? New York was closer. Then again, New York was a decision being taken out of my hands, and I was not a fan of that, not a fan at all. I didn’t want to go there, and it was mainly just to spite Cordero. Who the hell did I know in Europe, anyway?
Was I really using not knowing someone as an excuse to stay in the U.S. when that choice would have me playing under a woman who would make it impossible for me to do well? Was there even a choice, really?
Indecision filled my chest and shamed me.
Was I going to let fear get the best of me and keep me somewhere I wasn’t going to be happy?
Keep me with an organization that obviously didn’t want me anymore because I was friends with my coach?
How fucking stupid would that be? If twenty-two-year-old career-driven Sal Casillas could hear me now, she would kick my twenty-seven-year-old ass for being a pussy.
A tiny part of me realized I didn’t need to rush into a decision yet. There were still four games left in the season, and if we moved on to the playoffs—when we moved on to the playoffs—there would be more games. I had time, not much but some.
Big girl socks on, I thought about it.
Screw it. There wasn’t a decision to make. I’d be an idiot if I stayed in the WPL and gave someone, who didn’t have my best intentions in mind, a key to my future. What would my dad or Eric tell me?
It only took a second for me to decide what they would say: get the hell out.
“You’re right,” I said and straightened my spine. “I have nothing to lose, even if things don’t work out.”
I didn’t see Kulti roll his eyes. “Make a list of the teams you’re familiar with,” he said to Franz.
The demand got me thinking instantly.
“Hold on. I don’t want to get on a team because you ask someone for a favor. Tell me the names of the teams you think I could be a good fit for, and I’ll talk to my agent about seeing what she can do.”
I didn’t miss the look they shot each other.
“I’m serious. I don’t need this to haunt me down the road.
I want to go somewhere where I’m needed, or at least wanted.
” Because it was the truth. I hadn’t gotten to where I was by taking advantage of who my grandfather was or who my brother was.
I had worked too hard to avoid getting screwed over, like I was now, and I didn’t plan on letting it happen again.
They exchanged another look.
“I’m not joking. You especially, pumpernickel, promise me you won’t pay someone to take me.” I cringed, realizing what I’d said and gave Franz an apologetic smile. “It’s a joke, I swear. I have nothing against Germans.”
“No offense taken.”
Kulti agreed to nothing.
I elbowed him in the ribs. “Rey, promise me.”
That time I did catch him rolling his eyes. “Fine.”
“That doesn’t sound like a promise to me.”
“I promise, schnecke,” he grumbled.
I totally caught the small smile that crossed Franz’s face as he heard the nickname Kulti called me. It was the first time he’d used that term in front of someone, and Franz’s smile said that it couldn’t have meant a bad thing. At least I was pretty sure.
“You’re positive this is what you want to do?” my German asked seriously, a gentle reminder of how he’d lost his crap when I first mentioned Franz’s idea of me playing overseas. Now, he was totally focused and calm. He looked ready to kill someone.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit terrified. The fact was, I could either let my fear of the unknown make me a victim, or I could take control of my career.
There wasn’t really a choice in the matter.
You don’t get to live your dreams by waiting around for someone to hand them to you.
Or at the very least, you hold on to them for dear life when others try and take them away.
I nodded at my friend, determined. “I’m positive.”
I WAS YAWNING every two minutes by the time Kulti finally glared at me from across the table where we were all playing poker. I hadn’t laughed when he busted out the cards and asked if we wanted to play, but I’d wanted to.
“Stop giving me that look. I’m going home now before I fall asleep,” I said, pushing the chair away from the table.
“Call a taxi.”
“No. I can drive home. I live close enough, it’ll be fine.” Before he could argue with me, I leaned over and gave Franz, the man who had won both games we’d played, a hug. “Thank you for coming to camp today and thank you for all your help with the other stuff, too.”
“Let me know as soon as you hear back from a team. I can help you narrow it down,” he said, giving me an affectionate pat on the back. “You still have my information?”
“Yes.” I pulled away from him. “I’ll definitely let you know if I hear from anyone.”
“You’re an idiot. You will,” the bratwurst interjected, getting up.
“I don’t know how I’ve lived my entire life without you and your kind, encouraging words. Really. It’s a miracle I’ve survived this long.”
Kulti was doing his usual scowl-thing, but the corners of his mouth were tipped up as he grabbed the back of my neck with his broad palm and swung me around to face the doorway. “I have never met anyone who needed me less than you do.”
The way he said it, I wasn’t sure whether it was a compli- ment or not, so I didn’t comment on it. I just bumped my shoulder against his. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”
He nodded as we walked out the path leading toward my car. When we stopped by the driver’s side door, he put one hand on it and the other on my upper arm. “I’ll make this up to you.”
“You don’t have to make anything up to me.
This isn’t your fault. I knew what I was doing.
As long as you don’t forget I exist after the season is over, there won’t be anything to regret, all right?
” I said, even though on the inside a small part of me was still frustrated and a bit depressed about all of this.
Kulti cocked his head. “You think I could forget about you?”
“No… well, I don’t know. You haven’t known me that long.
I’m sure you have….” I almost said “tons of friends,” but at what point had this guy given me the idea that he had a lot of friends?
Never. Not once. “I’m sure that you have plenty of distractions back home.
I didn’t mean it in a negative way. I just know life gets in the way sometimes. ”
“I don’t waste my time on things, Sal. Do you understand what I mean?”
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled up, and hoarsely I answered. “Sort of.” He wouldn’t waste his time doing things with me if he didn’t like me and didn’t want to be my friend, I knew that much.
He opened his mouth and closed it. He wanted to say something; it was evident on his face.
The German swallowed hard, and an even look crossed his features, making me incredibly aware of everything: of the sticky summer night, the darkened sky missing its stars, the way his skin let off the barest hint of something sweet smelling.
His fingers tightened over me, his thumbs digging into that groove where my shoulder met my collarbone.
I’d seen his face hundreds of times, and it seemed to never be enough.
After I had gotten over my infatuation with him, I’d envisioned myself with someone who worked for himself: a go-getter maybe, good with his hands, quiet, honest, and nice.
Possibly a mechanic. I had wanted someone who would come home, a little dirty, a little sweaty, and capable of fixing things.
I pictured a steady, reliable type of guy.
I wasn’t sure where I’d gotten that fantasy from, but it had stuck with me.
Adam, my ex, had been that way, mostly. He’d been a general contractor straight out of a romance novel—incredibly good-looking and sweet. I hadn’t thought he was real at first.
Now facing Kulti, so much taller than me, older than me, serious, sneaky, temperamental, and having only mowed a lawn once in his life…
I couldn’t find it in me to be disappointed that this was where my dumbass heart had taken me.
I was an idiot, of course. What the hell was I doing having feelings for this jackass again?
Unrequited love and I had known each other once, and I didn’t want to be up close and personal with it again.
So what was I going to do? I had no clue, but I was worried my heart would get stomped to death.
Hope for the best? Blah.
I missed the glance he took at my mouth. Missed the way he fisted his hand as he pried it off my shoulder. I didn’t see the look on his face when he stared at mine for a brief second.
“Good,” he finally said, easing his hand off the car door and tearing me away from thinking about how I was going to get over this whole being-in-love-with-the-wrong-person-crap. “Call when you get home.”
I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face. Maybe he wasn’t in love with me, and maybe I wasn’t really the best friend he’d ever had, but he cared about me. Most of his actions made it loud and clear, even when he was being a bit of a gruff, emotionless dick. I could have done worse.
All right, that wasn’t true. I couldn’t have loved anyone else, definitely not anyone worse. I wouldn’t have done something so stupid.
Not that having feelings for him wasn’t completely fucking dumb, because it was, but… whatever. This was so hard.
“I’ll send you a text when I get home,” I agreed, opening the door and getting in.
Once the car was on, I rolled down the window and watched him standing just a few feet away.
“You know, even if you didn’t get Mike, Alejandro, and Franz to come to the camp, and bought shoes for the kids, I would still think you were kind of great… most of the time, right?”
The lights outside of his house caught him looking up at the sky. “Go home.”
To my great pride, I only felt determination in his silence on the way back to my place.
What was the saying? When one door closes, another one opens. I might just have to do a little breaking and entering to get the right one for me.