2. Eden
EDEN
“This dress is itchy,” my eight-year-old stepsister Natalie whines in the back seat next to me.
“I know, Nat—but it’s a wedding. You have to dress up,” my stepmom Tina says in a conciliatory tone from the front passenger seat. My dad is next to her, driving.
We’re all in Florida “summer wedding guest” dresses, except Dad, of course. Mine is a strappy blue sundress that looks nicer than the design typically would, thanks to the expensive fabric and perfect tailoring.
“I wish I didn’t have to go at all,” Nat whispers to me. Despite our thirteen-year age gap and the fact that I live on campus most of the time, we get along. It was fun when Dad got remarried last year, a small family affair in our backyard, and all of a sudden I had a little sister.
I’d spent the previous twenty years as an only child and long been over it. Solitude, entertaining myself alone—they’re not my favorite.
“They’ll have a lot of desserts there,” I whisper back. “And I bet some lemonade or fruit punch.”
“Oh okay.” Her eyes squint like she’s calculating the value of all that sugar.
“Do it for the cake, Nat,” Dad interjects, voice laced with humor. Guess we weren’t being that quiet after all.
I giggle at Dad’s remark, while Tina smiles and puts a hand lightly on his arm.
“We’ll do it for you,” she says to him. “Your first year coaching, and we wouldn’t want to miss a Waves family event like this.”
That’s right, after a long career as the Waves’ starting kicker, Dad retired when the season ended last year.
He’d asked the organization if he could transition to an assistant kicking coach position for the upcoming season, and it was happily an immediate yes.
Football is his life, and he’s a great leader, so it should be an awesome fit.
It’s from my dad that I learned everything I know about leading others to success, and now as the captain of the Tolliver soccer team, I apply it all. As best as I can, anyway.
“You too,” Dad says back to her. “It’ll be nice for you to spend time with the other coaches’ wives.”
From hearing Tina and Dad talk, the wedding is the Waves’ “event of the summer.” Not that the label is a surprise given who’s involved, the starting quarterback and the sister of the two Battle brothers playing on the Waves.
There’s one more Battle brother that I’m aware of. Acutely aware of.
But no one in this car knows that Connor Battle is on my radar, including Dad, who probably doesn’t even remember he introduced us three years ago. No one on the planet knows—except for my best friend on the Tolliver team, Bree.
With Nat content at the promise of sweets, the chatter in the car dies down. The hum of the air conditioning, the endless green growth along the side of the highway, and Dad’s favorite piano music on the speakers form a soothing combo. I lean back in my seat and shut my eyes.
It’s so rare I have moments with nothing to do, and if it takes a car ride to find time to relax, so be it.
The spell breaks as the car jostles on a gravel road.
When I open my eyes, we’re pulling up to the cream stucco mansion where the reception will be held. Dad’s house is plenty nice, but this place is another level. Maybe ten thousand square feet, two stories, and expansive.
I shake off my awe as the valet takes the keys from Dad and we make our way inside up a set of stairs.
Tina explains that they’ll have us guests wait on the second floor in a great room with a large deck, which has stairs leading down to the pool and lake areas. She must have heard all this from another coach’s wife.
“Apparently, they converted much of the first floor into a large ballroom-type space, so they can rent the house for big parties,” she continues. “That’s where we’ll be most of the night.”
The second floor is also clearly designed for fancy gatherings. Everything is pristine and expensive-looking, with a lot of marble and touches of contrasting dark wood. Huge windows showcase the water view, and the art selection is lovely, made up of well-done replicas.
With the Florida July heat, a large number of the guests are, not surprisingly, inside in the air conditioning. We settle into a small open patch where no one else is standing, and a waiter comes by with a tray of drinks. Dad hands lemonade to Nat, while I grab a champagne.
Raising his eyebrows at me, Dad otherwise stays silent. I turned twenty-one two months ago, so he can’t exactly protest.
Meanwhile, I could use the liquid courage, knowing who will be in attendance—although I don’t see him anywhere right now.
“I’m glad you came back from California in time for this,” Tina says to me, the slightest nerve in her voice.
Her anxiousness has nothing to do with me, I know—we get along fine. She’s put a lot of stock in tonight, hoping to fit in with the other coaches’ wives. I get it.
“It’s going to be a good night,” I reassure her, my “team captain” mode activated. “You look beautiful.”
She gives me a small grateful smile. “Thank you.”
I hadn’t returned from visiting my mom in California for the wedding, specifically. As it’s been for my entire life, my summer’s divided into tightly orchestrated segments between San Diego, where my mom settled when I was a toddler, and Orlando.
I’m lucky that Dad and Mom always seemed to work things out without too much drama.
They were in college when I was born, the relationship over by graduation.
Mom returned to San Diego so my extended family could help while she went to medical school, and Dad saw me as much as he could once in the NFL.
Between college and soccer obligations, there was only one option for a summer trip to visit Mom and the rest of my California crew—a few weeks in June. I took the opportunity while I could.
“Let’s mingle,” Tina says, running her hand over Nat’s hair to smooth it down.
Poor Nat, this is probably going to be boring as heck for her.
“I wonder if they have something for the kids to do outside? I can take her and explore,” I volunteer.
“That would be great,” Dad says, as Tina’s grateful smile expands.
“C’mon, kiddo.” Nat appears more than happy to follow me as we step toward the sliding glass doors leading out to the deck, where we walk down to the grounds.
Outside it’s less formal. A large pool has casual lounge chairs sprinkled around it, and an unstaffed drink station is stocked with water and beer in ice buckets.
Thirty feet beyond the pool is the lake. Other homes are sprinkled along the shore in the distance, all big and beautiful like this one.
My eyes catch a field on the side of the pool where a handful of kids are running around. They all appear ten and under, perfect for Nat to play with. There’s a woman watching over them, laughing at something a little girl said.
“Should we head to the other kids?” I ask.
Nat shakes her head in agreement. She’s not shy, so I’m not surprised she doesn’t hesitate.
When we get closer, she runs ahead and begins twirling around like the other kids.
“Hi, I’m Eden,” I say to the woman once I reach her. She looks to be in her mid-thirties. “That’s Natalie, my stepsister.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lainie, the groom’s sister.” Up close, I see the resemblance to the famous visage of Johnson Samuels. “Two of these munchkins are mine.” She points to a little boy and a girl Nat’s speaking with.
“Do you want to play a game?” the girl says.
“My big sister plays soccer, she could play with us. Is there a ball?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“How about a race? Emma loves to run,” Lainie suggests to the girls.
“Me too,” Nat responds excitedly.
“Don’t get mad if I beat you,” Emma says to her, a mix of pride and sweetness in her voice.
“Oh, I’m second to nothing and no one,” Nat replies in her typical confident manner.
The girls insist we watch as they trade wins in their first two races, but then stop caring about our attention as they continue, while the little boy is occupied trying to keep up with them.
Lainie turns to me. “So, soccer? Are you still in school?”
“Yes, I have one more year at Tolliver. That’s where I play.” I don’t mention that I was named All-American for the second time in a row junior year, or that I was selected for all four U23 national training camps last year too. It’s not my thing to brag.
She still seems impressed. “Oh, that’s amazing. Do you want to continue after graduation?”
“I’m planning on going pro, but I’m also applying to med school.” I chuckle softly. “Don’t ask me how all of that is going to happen.”
I truly don’t know how these dreams will mesh together. My top peers from the US Youth program either skipped or left college to go pro already, which wasn’t possible with my pre-med track. I’ve already taken the MCATs, so at least one step is done.
“Ambition is never a bad thing. Do you know what kind of doctor you want to be?”
“My mom is a neurologist, and I’m debating that too.”
“That’s incredible.”
I shift the conversation to her and learn she works at a local tech start-up. After more small talk, she offers to watch Nat with the other kids.
“I’ll need to bring them inside soon anyway with the heat. But you should go enjoy yourself. I’ll make sure Nat finds you or your parents once we come back in.”
“Okay, if you’re certain.”
“No problem at all, it’s nice for Emma to make a new friend.”
I walk back to the house once Nat knows the plan, glancing at the clusters of guests bearing the heat around the pool.
Still no sign of Connor.
You should double-check your phone, in case he’s messaged you?
Strolling up the stairs to the deck, I stop in front of one of the large fans they’ve blessedly set up. Pulling my phone out, I go to my Instagram DMs.
Nope, nothing new. Just our messages from three days ago.
EDEN: Hi, I wasn’t sure if you knew this already, but I’m coming to Grace’s wedding with my dad. I know you’ll be busy with your family but just wanted to give you a heads up :)
I’d debated for two weeks whether to send him the message, but ultimately figured it’s better to break the ice virtually than in the middle of this big affair.
We haven’t interacted since he liked a post from my spring break trip with my besties from the soccer team. “Everyone is single at the same time for the first time, and you know what that means…” had been the caption.
It’s been a lot longer since we’ve seen each other.
After I sent the DM, it took him half a day to respond—I suspect he’s not on social media much—but when he did, I was grateful I did write.
CONNOR: I didn’t know, but that’s great. I’ll find a way we can chat.
I’m sure he hadn’t combed over his sister’s guest list, so it made sense he didn’t know. At least the fact that I’m attending wouldn’t be a surprise in real time.
EDEN: Awesome :)
The offer to catch up was more than I expected, with his inevitable family obligations for the wedding. Standing here on the deck now, with no new DMs from the man, there’s no sign it’ll actually happen. I try to tamp down my disappointment.
At the end of the day, you barely know him, and he’s probably slammed with duties for the event.
I’m also as guilty as him at neglecting our social media interactions. We’ve not exactly been regular correspondents.
Yet there’s been something unforgettable about Connor since that first day we met, when he towered over Dad, all arms and legs, staring at me like I’d shocked him somehow.
Of course, in the two summers after, I’ve had a chance to take note as the reed-like frame of his filled out, his personality started to show itself, and well…other things.
With my phone open, I slip into my habit of checking for unread messages. I’ve come to hate the red little circles on each app with the number of unopened texts and emails. But the discomfort of leaving them to linger, unreviewed and unanswered, is even greater.
New email number one is for my NIL deal with FlashFuel, an energy drink company, and contains the specs for the next collab they want me to do. Fine.
New email number two is an interview request for the Tolliver Times, our school paper. Fine.
New email number three is from our Tolliver head coach, Marnie Brenner, confirming the schedule of our upcoming preseason. Fine.
Seriously, don’t these people know it’s a holiday?
It turns out my unread text messages are all from Bree.
brEE: Have you seen him yet?
brEE: I wonder if he’ll whisk you off to do some dirty things.
brEE: By the way, have you figured out the plan for your captain’s practice tomorrow? Because I have some thoughts.
I love Bree, but texting with her about drills for our first player-only session or Connor maybe wanting to hook up at his sister’s wedding is not exactly productive at the moment.
EDEN: Hiiiiii…not yet to all. Let’s talk when I’m home.
After I press send, I slip my phone in my purse before everything swirling in my world distracts me again.
I don’t begrudge Bree’s questions about Connor, though, because it’s thanks to her there’s even something to ask about…