Chapter Twenty-Seven
If someone would’ve told eighteen-year-old Marcee that her biggest case of game-day nerves would be as a coach during the championship game of a district tournament, well, she would’ve called their bluff.
Of course, throwing in the fact that the estranged love of her life was the coach of the other team, that did add a little razzle dazzle to the situation.
As she looked around the locker room at the fresh faces of the young women in front of her, Marcee realized they were just at the beginning. In that locker room, they were making memories and learning lessons that would follow them for years to come. It was their beginning.
She took a deep breath, steadying her heart. Time to inspire.
“Today is the biggest day of your soccer careers!”
“No pressure, right, Coach?” Cope grinned wryly from the corner, dressed out to support her team from the bench.
Marcee hushed the laughter, speaking over a few lingering giggles. “I think we all know there’s pressure. It’s the championship. If you don’t feel pressure, you’re not taking this seriously.”
They settled in, as if getting ready for a long-winded, serious go-getter speech, but she didn’t think they needed it. They’d made it this far. Despite losing their striker, they’d made it to the final game. No one could doubt their fire, and no one could take that from them.
“You all have proven yourselves this season. And I know what everyone has been saying around town about our chances tonight.” She shook her head.
“Alpha this, Alpha that. We know they’re a great team with a lot of talent and a famous coach.
Old news.” Marcee took a moment to look at each of the girls, meeting their eyes one by one.
“But what they don’t know is the effort and heart you’ve sweated onto the practice pitch.
Every. Single. Day. They may remember our loss to Alpha in regular season, but tonight they’re going to see the Pemberton I’ve had the pleasure of coaching the past few months.
The progress you’ve made is what every coach hopes for.
I’m proud of each and every one of you, and I know you’ll give it everything you’ve got tonight.
We’re going to show everyone you don’t mess with the blue and white!
” With a responding roar, she nodded at Nicole, took her clipboard and left the locker room to the clip of cleats on concrete and cheers as the girls followed.
The district championship was held at a sports complex south of Durham, North Carolina. It was the largest stadium the girls had ever played in, and from the noise filtering down the tunnel leading to the field, it was a packed house. This was the game of the season.
“Okay, game face, Ackerman. Confident and calm. You’re ready.” Marcee shook out her shoulders and stepped under the lights, blinding in their intensity. As she moved aside, her girls ran past, charging onto the field for their pre-game huddle followed by warm-ups.
“On three: one, two, three, Pemberton!”
“I’ll see you on the sidelines, Coach.” Nicole squeezed her shoulder and jogged onto the field, already calling out to the girls, correcting mistakes.
“Maybe I’ll be ready in time for State.” Cope watched the girls, raw yearning on her face as her hands gripped the sides of her jersey.
I know, girl. I know how you feel all too well.
“Let’s hope so.”
Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the sidelines, the night’s roster on top of her clipboard for the officials.
Somewhere in the crowd, Alex was bundled up and cheering them on, lending her emotional support.
There were too many faces, but Marcee knew she was there, and it helped for the moment to come.
She’d ignored every call and every text since the night before.
She stayed behind closed doors when he showed up at their house, begging for a reprieve.
It was time to face the music.
Remy was on the other end, arms crossed as his head dipped to the side listening to Seth.
Her eyes drank in the sight of him in all black, the blood-red emblem of Alpha Ridge Academy splayed across the back.
He was as natural on the field as the paint running down each line, like he was born to be there, completely at ease and in his element.
Was his stomach as twisted into knots as hers? Did it go away after playing in front of thousands of people screaming your name?
For a minute, he was all she could see. He was the entire world, standing there with the remnants of her heart beneath his shoes.
“Make the most of this moment, Ms. Ackerman.”
Marcee flinched at the sound of Wilkes’ voice behind her and turned to find him smiling.
“It’s a big night,” she agreed, confused at his demeanor. “The first of many such games, I hope.”
“For Pemberton, yes, but not for you.” His smile broadened, bordering on a grin. It was unnerving.
Her breath came a little faster. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re fired, Ms. Ackerman. Effective the moment this game is over.”
She blinked, dumbfounded. Marcee had thought it might happen, but not here, not like this.
“We haven’t lost,” she reminded him, shoulders rigid. “You can’t fire me unless we lose this game.”
He did grin then, basking in her discomfort and panic.
“If we were going by that particular contract clause, then you’d be correct.
But you’re not being fired for that.” He strolled to her side, casting a meaningful glance down the sidelines.
“Fraternizing with staff from our archrival constitutes a breach in the morality clause of your contract. After that article came to light, well, the school board couldn’t continue to allow you to coach our impressionable young ladies. ”
And all that time she thought they’d gotten away with it. Wilkes picked then to tell her, knowing what the night meant to her. The blood drained from her face.
“Coach Ackerman!” The referee beckoned her from his place midfield as the countdown clock on the scoreboard hit five minutes even.
“Game time, Ms. Ackerman,” Wilkes said, patting her shoulder as he walked away. “I hope it’s everything you dreamed it would be.”
Dream?
More like a nightmare.
Finally, her late nights and excessive practicing paid off. In their previous matches, Pemberton was clearly outmatched against Alpha, getting goals on pure scrappiness. That night, they looked like aces.
It broke her heart, even as it made her prouder than she’d ever been.
Their ball movement was fluid and smart, dropping when needed and pushing at the right time. At each airborne kick, her girls were all over it, getting the first touch seventy percent of the time.
Marcee couldn’t help but imagine what the game would be like if Cope were on the field. They would be winning. She knew it.
As it stood, Alpha intercepted a weak pass at midfield with four minutes left in the second half.
It was a breakaway and her defense scrambled to maintain their position.
Somehow, Alpha’s center forward managed to stay on-side as she charged down the field and, with a move Marcee rarely witnessed even in college-level soccer, scored the first point of the game.
It was brilliant. She could admit that much, even though she was sick to her stomach over it.
She yelled from the sideline midfield, trying to rally the girls. The last thing she needed was for them to break down mentally. They were too close.
When the scoreboard showed two minutes left of regular time in the second half, Alpha got another shot on goal.
The same center forward who scored first, riding high on adrenaline like a bloodhound on the scent, sent a curving shot to the upper right corner of the net.
Marcee’s stomach sank with despair before somersaulting as the tips of Harper’s gloves skimmed the whizzing ball, knocking it off trajectory enough it hit the pole and rolled out of bounds.
She let out a whoop of celebration before she realized Harper was struggling to stand.
Marcee rushed onto the field and to their goal, where Harper clutched her right ankle in the net.
“Please, please, please,” she muttered, dropping to her side. “Talk to me, Harper.”
Harper sucked in a breath, sweat pouring down her face in grass-laden rivulets. “Didn’t have a good footing on that last stop and it rolled underneath me.”
An on-site trainer showed up, peeling off her sock and shin guards to look at the ankle.
“Did anything pop?” the trainer asked, lifting the leg gently to examine the underside.
“No.”
“Does this hurt?” She prodded around the bone, moving to various places with each “no.” “Okay, let’s see if you can put pressure on it.”
They helped Harper to her feet, and slowly, she rested the sole of her right foot onto the grass, distributing her weight evenly.
“How do you feel?” Marcee asked, eyeing her for any sign or hint of pain.
Harper took a few tentative steps, then more assertively.
“I’m good. I think it was the initial pain throwing me.” At Marcee’s dubious expression, she reiterated, “I swear, Coach, I’m okay. Let’s do this!”
Marcee shared a look with the trainer, who gave her the go-ahead, and Harper put her gear back on to the cheers of her teammates. Her hands shook as she turned around, thanking their lucky stars they’d dodged a bullet.
“Ms. Ackerman!”
She was surprised she heard Wilkes at all with the roar of the crowd behind her, but she did. If he wasn’t standing next to Cassidy with a hand on her shoulder, she’d ignore him completely.
“It’s time. You need to put this girl into the game and secure us a victory,” he said.
Marcee couldn’t believe the audacity of the ass to walk onto her field and tell her how to do her job—the one he took away.
Scratch that; she could believe it. He was the same man who brought in their archnemesis for a job interview.
There was nothing he wouldn’t do to win.
So, of course he wanted her to put a sick child into a game which could result in her heart giving out.