Chapter 40
brOOKLYN
Two weeks later
“I can’t believe you’re really leaving us.” Scarlett gave me a fierce hug, her voice thick with emotion. “This feels like way too soon.”
“If you want cold, gray weather, we have that right here. You don’t need to go to Chicago,” Carina added. Her voice was steadier, but her eyes were red when she hugged me after Scarlett pulled away.
I laughed through the lump in my throat. “If Chicago isn’t gray or cold enough for me, I promise I’ll come back.” I squeezed Carina tight. “Thank you, guys, for coming to see me off. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Are you kidding? We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Scarlett gave me a sad smile. “We’ll miss you.”
The lump expanded. “I’ll miss you too.”
Great. Now I was the one crying in the middle of the airport.
After two weeks of frantic prepping and packing, it was here—the day I left London and moved to Chicago.
Things had moved quickly after I accepted the Moores’ offer.
They’d set me up at a fully furnished apartment near their house, and they’d hired someone to help me pack up my flat in London.
I was only bringing my clothes and other personal items to Chicago; my furniture and other nonessential belongings were in storage.
My three suitcases and carry-on surrounded us as Scarlett, Carina, and I lingered near the check-in kiosks.
My dad had a match today, so we’d said goodbye that morning.
He’d wanted to leave the match in Greely’s hands and accompany me to the airport, but I’d insisted he be with his players instead.
The match was too important, and the fact he’d offered meant more than his actual presence.
I was okay with our goodbye, but my girls? I needed as much time with them as possible.
“We promise we’ll keep you updated on all the hot goss while you’re gone,” Carina said. “It’ll be like you never left.”
“I appreciate that. I do love some good gossip.”
“I know. And if you need a care package with some proper tea and biscuits, we got you. Keep an eye on your mailbox.”
I smiled even as melancholy curled through me.
We were stalling. None of us wanted to be the one to say goodbye first.
My friends had been stunned when I told them about my move, but neither had guilt tripped me into staying. They understood why I made the decision I did, and they were as happy for me as they were heartbroken.
The sentiment was mutual.
I’d never had girlfriends like them. I’d only known Scarlett and Carina for a year and a half, but they’d been more supportive and caring than any of my old friends.
They were genuinely excited when I had good news, genuinely sad when I didn’t, and they never judged or secretly tried to compete with me.
Besides Vincent, they were the only people I felt truly comfortable with.
They also knew me well enough to guess what was on my mind at the moment.
“He’ll be here,” Scarlett said softly. “He wouldn’t miss seeing you off if Satan himself tried to stop him.”
“It’s okay if he’s not. I don’t expect him to be.” I smiled through the ache in my chest. “We said goodbye this morning.”
Vincent was playing in today’s match. He’d also wanted to call in sick and take me to the airport, but I refused to hear it.
Blackcastle had a knockout match today, which meant they needed to win in order to advance in the tournament.
I wasn’t going to hamper their chances by taking their captain and best defender off the pitch.
“Oh, honey.” Carina squeezed my arm, her eyes soft.
But eventually, we couldn’t stall anymore. My flight was boarding soon, so I checked my bags, hugged my friends one last time, and made it through security and to my gate with ten minutes to spare.
Instead of milling around and waiting, I ducked into the shop across from my gate. I couldn’t stay still for too long. If I did, my doubts would creep in again, and I’d run out of the airport and back to my flat because that was the easy thing to do.
I had to make it to Chicago first. Then I could sit on the floor and let the significance of what I was doing fully hit me.
But my plans for delaying my eventual breakdown shattered when I passed by the newsstand.
Vincent smiled at me from the cover of Sports UK magazine, his dimple just visible enough to unravel me.
His image was so sharp and clear, I felt like I could reach out and feel his warmth beneath my fingertips.
I tried to stop it, but it was impossible. A tide of emotion crashed over me, blurring my vision. A hot tear slipped down my cheek. I wiped it away, but another fell, and another, and soon, they came in waves too thick and fast for me to control.
My ribcage felt too tight for my lungs. I’d talked to Vincent just that morning, and I already missed him like it’d been years.
I had a plan, but what if it failed? What if I had to stay in Chicago forever? We’d promised each other we would make it work long distance, but I’d seen the statistics. Long-distance relationships lasted an average of only four and a half months, and my plan was a Hail Mary anyway.
“I know I look good, but I think that’s the first time one of my pictures has brought someone to tears in public.”
Great. Now I was hearing his voice in a freaking airport shop.
I hiccupped. So much for waiting until Chicago before my breakdown.
A hand brushed my shoulder, warm and so very real. “Brooklyn.” His voice was tender. “Turn around.”
My heart leapt in my throat. I whirled around, my pulse pounding when I saw the achingly familiar outline of Vincent’s form. I blinked hard, both to clear the tears and to double-check I wasn’t hallucinating.
No, that was really him, standing in the shop’s narrow aisle dressed in his football kit. He was sweaty and his clothes had grass stains, but I’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
Spike, his new bodyguard, hovered a respectful distance away. Vincent’s presence was already attracting stares and whispers, but Spike’s glare kept anyone from approaching us.
“You—how—” I struggled to find the right words.
The match ended less than an hour ago, and it took place all the way across town. There was no way he could’ve made it here this quickly.
“We were already up by two in the last half. Coach subbed me out toward the end, and I came straight to the airport. But even if I had to play until the last minute, I would’ve found a way to get here in time.
” Vincent brushed my tears away with his thumb.
“You didn’t think I’d let you leave without a proper airport goodbye, did you? ”
Fuck, I was going to start crying again.
I let out a strangled laugh. “Don’t tell me you bought a ticket just to get past security.”
“I didn’t buy it just to get past security. I’ve always wanted to go to…” He checked his phone. “Fargo, North Dakota. Maybe you can take the weekend off, join me, and show me around.”
“Unfortunately, I’ve never been there. I’ll be as lost as you.”
“Then we’ll be lost together.”
A sob hitched in my throat.
Vincent’s face softened. He opened his arms, and I stepped into them, burying myself in his warmth. His heartbeat thudded against my cheek, steady and strong.
Neither of us spoke. What could we say that we hadn’t said already?
I’ll miss you.
I’ll wait for you.
Don’t forget this. Don’t forget me.
No words needed. Our sentiments were obvious in the way he held me, in the fit of our bodies and the synchronized beats of our hearts.
I didn’t know how long we stood there, lost in each other’s embrace, but eventually, reality intruded.
“Flight 226 to Chicago now boarding.” The PA system crackled overhead.
That was my flight.
My stomach dropped. Vincent’s arms tightened around me, and I pressed my face to his chest, trying to etch every detail of this moment in my memory.
My sobs had died down, but my entire body ached like I was being torn apart.
“I’ll walk you to your gate,” Vincent murmured, his voice rough with emotion.
No. I shook my head and clung to him.
Forget Chicago. I could call the Moores right now and tell them I’d changed my mind. Vincent and I would leave the airport together and head straight to one of our favorite restaurants, where we’d order a shit ton of carbs and laugh about the time I almost moved halfway across the world.
Then we’d still be together, and I wouldn’t feel like my heart was breaking.
The PA system crackled again with warning. “This is the final boarding call for passengers booked on flight 226 to Chicago. Please proceed to the gate immediately.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Brooklyn, we have to go,” Vincent said gently. “Or you’ll miss your flight.”
I couldn’t put it off anymore. My fantasy of running out of here with him dissolved, and I followed him to the gate, where the attendant’s eyes widened in recognition.
Thankfully, she was smart enough not to bother us as Vincent kissed me, slow and lingering, as though we had all the time in the world.
His last gift to me.
“Call me when you land,” he murmured.
I nodded, my voice breaking. “I will.”
Then the attendant was hurrying me along, and I had to walk straight to the plane without looking back because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if I looked back, I would never leave.
VINCENT
Two weeks later
“DuBois! What the hell are you doing?” Coach yelled. “You’re all over the place. Get it together!”
It was the third time he’d yelled at me during today’s training.
“Sorry, Boss.” I shook my head and tried to focus, but everything felt like static in my brain.
We had a knockout match against Berlin tomorrow, so a win was crucial if we wanted to make it through to the next stage.
Unfortunately, my concentration was shot, and the rest of training was a disaster.
I missed two easy passes, mistimed my runs, and nearly collided with Asher during a corner drill.
By the time it ended, Coach was apoplectic, and the team was silent.