Chapter 39
Austin
The next day, I couldn’t be alone. I did my normal training and had the rest of the day alone with my thoughts.
That was awful. So, I went to help Zoya since her catering business had been taking off and she could always use a hand. And
whenever I was there, she usually put me to work.
“What’s going on, Austin?” Zoya called from beside me. Inside the demonstration kitchen at the largest countertop, Zoya was
preparing for her next job. Lined up in front of her was a grid of neatly cut puff pastry shells. She leaned over and carefully
scooped filling into each.
I tried to make mine neat and tidy, but I completed about one for every seven she did. “What if I don’t get so lucky this
time?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not using the ones you make for the event.” Zoya waved me off, focusing on the work in front of her. “I
gave you that dough for the same reason I give it to Jo. To keep you busy.”
“Not the food,” I clarified, although I was a little offended. Mine weren’t nearly as messy as Jo’s were. “With the foundation and all of that.”
Zoya stood up straight. She blinked a few times, set the bowl of filling aside, and gave her hands a quick wash before walking
over to me without a word.
Her hand smacked against the back of my head.
“What does that mean?” Zoya’s engagement ring and wedding band on her finger were the culprits for the sudden ringing in my
ear.
“Ow.” I rubbed the back of my head. It took Zoya two years to take them off and suddenly they were back on. Probably something
I should check in on. “You’re wearing your rings again?”
“Don’t deflect. It’s just habit,” she defended, closing her palm into a fist as if that did anything to hide them. She was
annoyed, so I wasn’t going to ask. At least not right now. “What do mean by ‘What if you’re not so lucky?’”
“Jesse’s not a big fan of the training facility idea. Thinks it’s another wrong turn.”
“Okay . . .” she said in a long, suspicious drawl. “So what? You were expecting that. And his opinion hasn’t stopped you before,
remember? He wasn’t a fan of the original move back here, anyway.”
“And he was right,” I pointed out. “My career playing the game is essentially over.”
“Because you want it to be.” She put both hands on her hips. “Right?
“Yeah.” That was one thing I was positive about. I was ready to move on, and maybe if I hadn’t come back I’d have had a few decent years in the Premier League, but it would have been to the same end. I think I was always going to come back here.
“So, what’s changed?”
“What if I don’t get so lucky this time?” I repeated.
I finally had some direction; I was so sure about it. But Jesse’s reaction mixed with Isa shutting down completely made me
want to cut and run. Go to something I knew would work. Hide from the uncertainty.
“Lucky?” Zoya’s face scrunched. “I don’t mean this to sound like a put-down, but what part of your life was lucky?”
Was she serious?
“All of it?” I answered, a little confused.
“Oh, you mean the foster kid part? The no family part? The dead best friend part? Which one of those were you lucky to have?” Irritation laced the line of questions.
My mouth hung open because this Zoya, the brutally honest one who ran Theo’s start-up, hadn’t really been around the last
few years.
She let out a frustrated huff. She paced a few steps forward, then a couple back. “It used to drive Theo crazy when you did
that.”
“Did what?”
“Reduce all your success to a series of lucky breaks,” she answered, still pacing back and forth. “The humble Austin Cade.”
“That’s a bad thing?” I wiped my hands with the towel since clearly I was never actually helping.
“No, but it’s also undercutting everything you’ve managed to accomplish.
” She paced until she rounded the counter completely.
She pointed at the barstools on the other end, motioning for me to sit.
“You earned your success as much as you happened upon it. And if you can’t figure something out for your plans, um, hello?
” She waved her hand with her mouth hung open patronizingly.
“You know I’d help you.” She made a loud thump on her seat. “What’s with you?”
I pushed my palms into my eyes, tired. “Nothing.”
Zoya walked over to one of the large industrial fridges and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade like a bribe to get me to talk.
“You need to stop treating me like your kid,” I mumbled. This was what she always did with Joseen when she was being stubborn.
“Then stop acting like my kid,” she said in a singsong voice, shutting the fridge, and grabbing a couple glasses. She poured
two and handed me one. With a deep sigh, she sat back down and swiveled forward in her chair. “Do you know why I lean on you
so much with Jo?”
“Because Jo can be a lot.”
“Well, duh.” She rolled her eyes. “But sometimes I felt like maybe you needed it.”
“Me?” Disbelief pulled on my tone.
Joseen Mistry was shooting my blood pressure up to unsafe levels because Zoya thought I needed help? I thought she could use some time off and maybe restart her personal life. I was hoping the last few times I
watched Jo were cover for her doing just that.
Zoya cocked her head and crinkled her brow. “Oh, save the widow pity. Yes, you.”
“It’s not widow pity,” I defended.
If I felt as empty as I did on occasion without my best friend around, I could only imagine what she must have felt. I thought being helpful might give her a chance to find something to fill that space like I kept trying to do.
“Theo was my best friend. My husband. My business partner. My everything.” She looked straight ahead. “But after all the grief
and the sadness, I started finding my way into a new life.” She turned back to face me. “You need to do that, too.”
“I did.”
“No, you kept the foundation going, spent every waking minute when you weren’t playing with Joseen being absolutely a shell
of a person for three years. Got injured and . . .” She threw her hands up. “This is the happiest I’ve seen you. Actually
happy. Not that pretend thing you do when Joseen is around. And now, suddenly, after practically shitting sunshine that day
you asked for help with your ideas, you’re waffling over them?”
“I’m trying to be practical.”
“No, you’re not.” She cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowed. “You’re scared of something. And you’re running from
it.”
I looked away because she was right. When I didn’t answer, she went on.
“And let’s say I believe your excuse that it’s practicality. Remember that I sold SolTech and started a catering service.
Sometimes practicality is a prison.” She laughed out loud. “You’re more than just the kid with impressive footwork and a killer
cross kick. And, for the last couple weeks, it seemed like you were finally understanding that.”
The last few weeks had felt like the morning after a storm.
Part of me was so drawn to Isa because she didn’t care for the sport. She wasn’t impressed by it; we almost never talked about it. We talked about everything else. And despite the fact that she was clearly leaps and bounds smarter than me, I never felt anything other than intrigued by her.
Like, in her presence, I was Austin.
Not the foster kid without a family.
Not the practically illiterate kid who could barely pass eighth grade.
Not the American Footballer.
Just Austin. Her light was all the spotlight I ever wanted again.
“I guess you’re right.” I smiled. Zoya was right, I was running from something, because even though Isa wasn’t the reason I was staying, I’d already started imagining
what our days could look like together.
Last night pulled the rug out from under me and I wanted to get as far away from that feeling as I could.
“I’m honored to be the Mistry that you run things by.” She swiveled in her chair again. “But you’re more than capable of making
the decision. Do it because you want it, not because you think it’s something you should do. Or because you think it gives something back to Theo. Do it because it’s your next dream.”
“Yeah . . .” I trailed off. Feeling confident was so easy when I was playing. All of it came so incredibly naturally that
I sort of assumed it was the only thing in the world I’d be good at. It seemed like a fair trade given everything professional
play gave me. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
She nodded. “Can we talk about the real reason you’re being so angsty? Because I know Jesse has a way of getting in your head, but I have a feeling it’s something else . . .” she ventured. “Or is your psyche a little too battered right now?”
“Not today.”
The argument was still fresh, and I wanted to get whatever I was feeling figured out before I talked to anyone. For now, Isa
clearly needed some space, and this time I was going to give it to her.
“Fine.” She topped off both glasses. “Tomorrow it is.”