34. Cecelia #3
The band of tension that’s been squeezing my chest the entire game suddenly snaps, but it doesn’t bring any relief. Instead, a sob comes from deep within me and before I can do a thing to stop it, tears are filling my eyes.
“Hey,” he says, looking panicked. “Don’t cry, Cecelia. It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not,” I sob, wiping desperately at my eyes. “Nothing is okay.”
Suddenly, his hands are on my face, cradling my cheeks and wiping the tears for me. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, sounding wrecked. “I messed it all up for you.”
I don’t care if it makes me weak—I reach up and grip his wrists, desperate to touch any part of him.
“You were my horses, Solomon,” I say, crying harder.
He tilts his head, studying me. “Your…horses?”
“Like at the ranch. You told me I needed to find something to center me, like you felt centered when you were with your horses. That was you. You were the thing that centered me.” I can’t bite back my sob. “So what am I supposed to do now that you left me?”
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, his voice cracking.
He brings his forehead to mine, has hands tightening on my cheeks.
“God, I’m sorry.” His hands slip around to cradle the back of my head, then one shifts to my shoulder and he’s pulling me closer, his movements jerky and desperate, until he has me down on the ground with him, in his lap, holding me tight.
We sit like that for a long moment, me crying against his chest while he squeezes me so hard I almost can’t breathe. I can’t see his face, but I’m pretty sure he’s crying, too.
“I know I don’t deserve it,” he finally says, “but I really could use a favor.”
I snort through my tears. “You definitely don’t deserve it.”
He laughs softly against my hair. “I know. But hear me out. I’ve been having a really shitty time lately.”
“Join the club,” I mutter, and he squeezes me even tighter, but otherwise ignores my words.
“See, I made the biggest mistake of my life a few weeks ago,” he goes on, his voice thick. “And ever since then, I’ve been working really hard to try and get my head in a better place so I could call the only girl I’ve ever loved and try to fix things.”
I attempt to look up at him, but he doesn’t ease his grip on me. “You wanted to call me?”
He laughs, the sound watery. “I’ve wanted to call you every single day. But I couldn’t do that until I knew I wasn’t going to hurt you again.”
“Solomon—”
“Hang on,” he says. “This is the part where I need the favor.” He finally loosens his arms enough to look down at me and I hate the sight of tears in his eyes, hate how sad he looks.
He brushes some hair off my face. “I could really use some cheering up in the meantime,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. “If you think I’m going to make out with you in the equipment room in the middle of a game after everything—”
He laughs, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Get your head out of the gutter. That’s not the cheering up I’m talking about.” He meets my gaze. “The thing that would cheer me up the most is watching you play soccer.”
“I don’t think my play today would cheer anyone up.”
His lips twitch. “No, it probably wouldn’t.
But there’s a whole second half to play.
” He kisses my forehead again, lingering longer this time.
I feel him take in a deep inhale, like he’s breathing me in.
Not sure how pleasant that would be, since I’m a sweaty, crying mess, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Do you have any idea how much I love watching you play?” he asks.
“Do you have any idea how much fun it is to see you out on the field, running circles around everyone, pissing off the other team, just wreaking havoc wherever you go?” He laughs a little.
“It’s my favorite thing, watching you. You’re so fucking good, Cecelia.
You’re so fast, so impressive. I could watch you all day.
” He looks down at me. “But you know what I love the most?”
I shake my head, unable to speak.
“I love how much fun you have. How happy you look when you’re playing. Watching you do this thing that you love so much—that’s what would cheer me up. If I could just see you go out there and be happy, I know everything would feel so much better.”
I don’t have any words. My heart feels so full it hurts, too many emotions swirling through me. I’m still sad, still hurt over what he said to me that day. I’m still scared about my knee, and afraid I won’t be able to play at the level I need to.
But there’s also something like calm settling over me.
It’s the way I always used to feel with Solomon.
Between my family and playing soccer and living as a Ransome, so much of my life is loud and chaotic and over the top.
I never minded that. I think I thrive on it, actually.
I didn’t realize that I needed a safe place in that storm until I met him, until he became that safe place.
“Can you do that for me?” he asks. “Can you just go have some fun playing soccer?” His serious eyes hold my gaze. “And later, after the game, we’ll go somewhere and really talk. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say, letting that calm spread, letting it sink deep into my bones. “I can do that.”