35. Solomon
THIRTY-FIVE
SOLOMON
She scores two minutes into the second half of the game. Because of course she does.
I’m so relieved, so happy for her, that I don’t even blink an eye when Cash Ransome pulls me into a huge bear hug.
When Jay and I got to the stands before the game started, the first thing I saw was Cecelia’s parents. And then I noticed that her brothers, Will and Wyatt, were there with their wives.
“Just to let you know,” Jay told me. “If they come over here to kick your ass, I’m going to run away. Just straight up abandon you, and I won’t even feel bad. I know my own strength, and it’s not going to do either of us any good against the two of them.”
To my surprise, the Ransomes didn’t look at me like they wanted to kill me. Instead, Sam came over and hugged me. To say I was shocked would have been an understatement.
“It’s good to see you again,” she murmured, squeezing me tight. “I hear you haven’t had the best time these last few weeks.”
To my horror, a lump came to my throat, and I wondered if I was actually going to start crying in front of Cecelia’s family.
When she pulled back, she gave me an understanding smile and squeezed my arm. “Come sit with us.”
I couldn’t really say no, so I followed her over to the family.
I noticed the whole crowd of aunts, uncles, and cousins weren’t around today—probably to take some of the pressure off Cecelia’s first game back.
But the Littles were there, and they all greeted me like nothing had happened.
Vega even hugged me. Cecelia’s brothers weren’t exactly welcoming, but they didn’t glare at me, either.
And her parents were as friendly as they’d been in the days after her injury scare.
Before I fucked everything up.
Watching the first half of that game had been a special form of torture. I knew she was freaked out about her knee—the fear was written all over her face. Knowing I hadn’t been able to help her through those fears in the preceding weeks absolutely gutted me.
She was pissed off and scared out of her mind and playing awful, and it was my fault. And there was nothing I could do about it.
When she got the yellow card before the half, I knew I couldn’t sit there and just watch any longer.
Maybe Devon or Coach Carla would be pissed if they found out, but I needed to talk to her, needed to try to do something to help.
So I made my way into the building and found her in the equipment room.
Seeing her break down so completely hurt like hell.
But it also fixed something inside of me, in a weird way.
For the first time, I didn’t doubt that I could support her the way she needed.
That I could be strong enough to work through it with her.
Emotional shit is not supposed to be my forte.
But seeing Cecelia crumble like that, I didn’t feel uncomfortable or defensive or want to shut down.
I just wanted to be with her. Tears and all.
You were my horses, Solomon.
To anyone else, it would have sounded ridiculous, but I got it. You were the thing that centered me.
I’m so damn relieved that I’m going to get the chance to tell her that it’s the same for me. That she centers me in a way not even the ranch can. That she makes me feel vulnerable but somehow stronger, all at the same time. That I love her more than anything and I’m finally ready to fight for us.
We just have to get through this game first.
“I don’t know what you said to her in there,” Jay mutters next to me as we watch her streak down the field with the ball. “But she doesn’t even look like the same person.”
“She looks like she’s having fun,” I say, my grin matching hers as she gets around a defender.
She scores again with five minutes left. Helen adds another goal in the last thirty seconds. They win, 3-1. And just before she’s surrounded by a crowd of screaming teammates, she looks up at where I’m sitting with her family and grins as wide as I’ve ever seen.
I wait with the Ransomes while the team hits the locker room.
Her brothers and mom want to recap every play, while Cash just beams and looks slightly clueless about the finer points of the game.
When she finally comes out, freshly showered and dressed in sweats, her family descends on her, hugging her like they haven’t seen her in weeks.
They want to take her out for dinner, but she declines, telling her mom that she’s tired. But she meets my eyes when she says it, and I hope that means she’s still willing to talk to me.
Her dad hugs me again before they go. It’s not even surprising at this point. “Don’t fuck this up, kid,” he mutters in my ear, slapping my back hard.
I have no intention of fucking it up.
It takes forever for her to say goodbye to her family, everyone hugging her and talking about the goals and teasing her about the fouls in the first half. Once she’s hugged everyone multiple times, it’s finally just the two of us.
“Come with me?” I ask, holding out my hand.
She doesn’t answer. But she does take my hand.
I have some snacks for her in my car—a protein shake, a peanut butter sandwich, and some fruit, all the things I know she prefers to eat post-game. “You were planning this?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as she opens the little cooler.
“I was hoping.”
It’s a quiet ride. Cecelia dozes, exhaustion taking over once the game’s adrenaline wears off.
She used to take a post-game nap on my chest, back before I messed it all up, but I try not to think about that.
For now, I’ll be content just sitting next to her, hearing her soft breathing while she sleeps, taking in the scent of her shampoo, knowing she’s safe and here with me.
November means an earlier sunset, and it’s pretty dark by the time I pull up in front of the ranch house. Red is gone for the night, out at a horse auction in Bakersfield, but he promised to leave some pasta for us to reheat when I told him my plan.
“Cecelia,” I murmur, looking over at her in the passenger seat.
She looks so pretty when she sleeps, her face soft, those long eyelashes splayed out against her freckles.
I reach over and run a finger across her jaw, unable to help myself.
For all I know, this might be my last chance to touch her like this.
Just because she agreed to talk to me doesn’t mean she’s going to want to stick around once she hears what I have to say.
Don’t practice for defeat before you’ve even started, I think to myself. It’s something my new therapist has suggested I adopt as a mantra of sorts.
“Cecelia,” I say again, a little louder.
She blinks awake, her gaze latching right on my face.
For a split second, she smiles, like she’s happy to see me.
Like maybe, in her sleep, she forgot about the last few weeks.
But then it must come back to her, because her expression closes off.
I have to rub at my chest, the ache is so strong.
“Where are we?” she asks, blinking out into the darkness. Her eyes widen. “The ranch?”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. Maybe I should have told her where I was taking her, instead of just driving her seventy miles away while she slept. But the fact that she came with me without asking where has to be a good sign, right?
“There’s some food inside,” I tell her, unbuckling my seat belt. “Then I thought we could have a fire.”
She studies me in the dim car interior for a moment. “Okay,” she finally says, her voice soft.
It’s weird to be in the ranch house without Red. Even the dogs are boarding in one of the barns, so the hands can keep an eye on them. It’s quiet in the kitchen while I work, warming up our plates of pasta.
“That smells good,” she tells me, sitting at the table where I deposited her with instructions to finish an electrolyte drink.
I shoot her a look. “I know you’d rather have pizza, but this is a good mix of carbs and protein for your post-game recovery.”
She laughs softly, the sound going straight to my chest.
We talk about the game while we eat. There’s some tension in the air, but it’s better than I thought it would be. Mostly she seems tired, and my chest aches with the desire to hold her while she sleeps.
Instead, I bring our dishes to the sink then take her hand again. “Remember when we were here before, I told you how amazing the sky is at night?”
She nods, studying my face.
“I thought we could have a fire. Look at the stars. Sound good?”
“Sounds good,” she agrees.
I use the flashlight on my phone to lead her out to the fire pit. It’s a bit of a far walk in the dark, out past the bunk house where the ranch hands stay, but the distance from the main light sources only makes the stars more incredible.
I get to work setting up the logs. “You’ve done this before,” Cecelia says.
“About a thousand times,” I agree. “You said you had bonfires at the farm in Tennessee?”
“Yeah, but the boys always fight over who gets to start the fire, so I never bothered to learn.”
“Come here, then,” I tell her. “I’ll show you.”
I explain how to arrange the logs and how to get the kindling going so the bigger twigs will catch. When the logs start to burn, she looks up at me, face lit by the fire, and smiles. “I did pretty good for my first time.”
“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her without thinking, because how could I say anything else when she’s sitting there smiling in the firelight under a million stars?
She looks away, like she’s not sure what to do with the compliment, and I clear my throat. “Let’s sit. The benches are pretty comfortable.”
I let her choose her seat first, and give her a little space, sitting a few feet down, even though every instinct in me is yelling that I should take her into my arms.
Not yet, I tell myself. Not until she knows everything.
We sit in silence for a bit, Cecelia watching the fire, me watching Cecelia. Eventually she tilts her head back to look up at the sky, and when she sees the stars, she gasps. “This is unbelievable,” she says. “It’s like being in a planetarium or something.”