Chapter Twenty-Three
The next few weeks passed in a blur. Marcee kept expecting to see the rabbit from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland running around with a pocket watch, crying out to everyone, “I’m late!
I’m late!” Between soccer practices, which she’d upped to two extra days after school, on top of the daily practice and weekly game, and picking up a few extra private training sessions, she barely saw anyone, let alone Remy.
Marcee was mortified by her behavior after their game.
She’d completely crumbled under the pressure, which was terrifying.
It felt too much like sliding into an old pair of jeans that no longer fit.
She wasn’t that person any more—at least, she hadn’t been up until school started.
She thought she’d worked that all out with her therapist in college.
After Remy drove her home, she passed out in bed and dreamed of walking in on him and Lola in the shower, the clear door fogged up as they made love under the spray.
She tried everything she could to forget that night ever happened.
Despite their busy schedules, she and Remy shared a significant moment.
He introduced her to his mother, Gloria, via video chat.
His father was out at work, and since Remy was apprehensive about sharing their relationship with him, they started with the most important woman in his life—a fact Marcee was completely okay with.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lockley!” She tried not to gush, but knowing how private and protective Remy was about their relationship made the gesture mean more than the usual meet-the-parents moment. Not that she’d experienced many of those.
“Please, call me Gloria. Mrs. Lockley is too formal,” she replied. “And since my son is clearly smitten with you, there’s no need for formalities.”
Remy’s cheeks darkened and he buried his face in his hands with a groan. “Mum.”
Gloria shrugged, an amused smile turning up the corners of her lips.
“It’s not like she doesn’t know, Remy. Saying it aloud doesn’t change anything.
” She focused on Marcee again, studying her face in a curious, non-judgmental way.
“He’s never introduced me to any of his girls before, Marcee, did you know? You’re a very special woman, indeed.”
Her heart was so full she worried it would burst. “Your son is the special one, Gloria. He’s upended my life in the best possible way. You raised a wonderful man.”
Beside her, Remy groaned again as his mother’s eyes, so like her son’s, turned glassy.
“Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”
Gloria was so much like Remy it made Marcee’s heart constrict.
They had the same face shape and the same easy smile.
Her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched as she looked between them, and her nose crinkled in the most adorable way.
Marcee loved her immediately, and when Gloria insisted she fly to London with Remy on his next visit, Marcee agreed before he even had a chance to say a word.
She was a glowing bundle of love by the time the call ended.
“I love your mom!” The words came out muffled as Remy yanked her shirt over her head and she pulled at his pants in a frenzy.
“Now is not the time to talk about my mother.” His fingers nimbly unclasped her bra, and when it dropped to the floor, he groaned. “God, I love your breasts.” Hoisting her up and around his waist, he buried his face between them, teeth and tongue ravaging her skin.
“I’m just so happy,” she gasped, scraping her nails across the back of his neck. “You finally introduced us. And I think she really likes me.”
The warmth of his face on her chest disappeared as he pulled back. “You’re killing me, love. Let’s talk about it later, hmm?”
Marcee wanted to gush more about their milestone, but the other, more pressing issue situated between her legs was getting bigger by the minute. She rolled her hips against him, eliciting a growl before his tongue flicked against her nipple.
“Yes, later,” she replied, voice breathy as he backed her against a wall and the only thing between them was the flimsy cotton of her panties.
That night when they made love, a permanence cocooned them which had never been there before, a new layer of them which vowed to transform her into someone different.
Someone better.
Since the game against Alpha Ridge, Marcee’s team had three consecutive wins, which kept Headmaster Wilkes off her back for a little longer.
Their meeting after the Alpha game did not go well and her position at the school was even more precarious than ever.
She’d kept a running dialogue open with Bill Cope, keeping him informed of Cassidy’s condition at practice, which was deteriorating.
Her energy levels and stamina were worsening, and at their last game, Marcee had to take her out at the beginning of the second half when she’d barely been playing for three minutes.
It was scary and frustrating to watch. Bill said he was taking her to a private counselor, but they’d only had two sessions.
Marcee implored him to keep trying. If Cassidy wouldn’t listen to either of them, there had to be somebody who would get through to her.
Even still, she wouldn’t give up on her player.
She couldn’t.
As of the last week of April, the season was winding down, and they were getting close to rankings for the district tournament.
Remy’s team remained undefeated and almost guaranteed to get top seed, but she needed Pemberton to win the last few games to ensure a good spot.
With all the practice and drills, she felt upbeat about their chances.
Even with Cope spending less time on the pitch, the other girls were making huge leaps in their performance.
Marcee had been working especially hard with Harper in the goal, researching new drills and putting her through agility and hand-eye coordination exercises at the beginning of every practice.
In the last twenty minutes of their game that week, all of the hard work became a distant memory when Cope fainted walking off the field. She was in the process of being subbed out, her replacement bouncing on the balls of her toes on the sidelines while she waited on Cassidy to make it over.
Cope had barely played that game. She’d been sluggish all week and Bill had expressed concerns about her lethargic demeanor at home, so Marcee had her sit on the bench a good portion of the time, subbing her in only when their other striker needed a breather, and never for more than two minutes.
All Marcee could think as she charged onto the field, Nicole at her side, was that she shouldn’t have even let her dress out. As soon as they reached Cope, she slid onto her knees.
“Cope! Cassidy!” She reached for her wrist, recoiling at the clammy skin, then picked it back up and checked for a pulse. It was there, but barely.
“Medic!” she yelled, working her way to Cassidy’s feet and propping them up.
The girls hovered nearby, closing in the longer Cope lay prone on the field.
Marcee jerked her head at her assistant coach. “Nicole, get the girls back. Now!”
Nicole moved the girls back on the pitch. Hannah, Cope’s best friend, was crying and a few other girls close with the striker were clutching her arms.
“She’s going to be fine, girls, we just need the space. It’s going to be all right.” Marcee wiped a sheen of sweat off Cassidy’s forehead. “Come on, Cope. Wake up. I need you to wake up now.” She checked her pulse again with the same results.
“Paramedics are bringing a stretcher.” The referee waved the medical officials forward as they jogged across the field. She’d never been so grateful as that moment that schools started keeping EMTs on call at games in case something happened.
“Move aside, please!” The lead EMT arrived and knelt next to Cope. Marcee jumped up and out of the way, hands shaking a bit. His partner assisted and they loaded Cassidy onto the stretcher, already working. Bill reached them as they were transferring her off the ground.
“Is she okay?” he asked, breathless from his run from the bleachers.
“She has a pulse, but she’s unconscious.” Marcee reached over and squeezed his arm. “Cassidy’s a fighter. She’s going to be okay. I just know it.”
The EMTs started rushing her off the field and Bill loped off with them. That was his whole life being loaded into the ambulance. She couldn’t imagine what that felt like.
She waved Nicole over. “Would you go to the hospital—keep me updated? I can’t ask Bill. He has enough on his mind. Just text me updates until I can come by after the game? I can’t leave the girls right now and we still have the rest of the game to play.”
Marcee looked back at the team, clearly distressed and shaken.
There were twenty minutes left in the game, and their world had been upended.
It was the part in college they didn’t prepare you for.
Internships don’t teach how to immediately move past tragedy.
There’s no test on how to inspire your team and rally them to finish.
There’s no knowing until it happens, and coaches pray it never does.
But that night it did.
“Of course,” Nicole replied, already turning for the sidelines. “I’ll go right now. Good luck, Coach.”
Marcee watched her leave and gave herself three seconds. Three deep breaths to get in the right mindset before she gathered the girls.
“Okay, I know that was scary.” She looked at the young faces around her, some tear-streaked, others slack with shock. Moments like those were reminders of their mortality, that bad things do happen to kids, even when they’re not supposed to. She needed to make them feel safe again.
“Cassidy is going to be okay. Each and every one of us knows that she’s tough and that she’s strong. Whatever is going on, she’s going to beat it.” She gave them a wry smile. “And probably have an attitude about it the whole way.”
A few of the girls laughed, a hint of relief passing amongst them.