10. Rose
Rose
Her moment of bravery and hope from Sunday morning had waned by Monday evening, specifically by the time she got to practice.
She saw the email from the lawyers as she walked into the training facility, but given the tone of the email, there wasn’t a ton of hope this one would be the one that made the difference.
Not when the Goodwins had as much influence as they did.
Then, to compound a bad day into a worse one, the team was more open about their aggression after the party.
Nobody had so much as looked at her. Even the freshmen kept their distance.
Kirin had mentioned it would likely get worse before it got better, and he was right.
But she tried to force herself into a positive mindset and remind herself that it was early days.
She had to wait it out. It was doubtful that he could do any more harm.
The last twenty minutes of their practice flew by.
Her legs burned. She’d been in constant motion, and had very little to show for it.
The team was making a point. Nobody looked her way, even when she was open.
They’d played the harder game to avoid using her.
Evidently, going to a party with Kirin stepped over whatever line they’d drawn.
But by the end, some of them dropped to the ground, taking deep breaths, only to roll over and regain their feet when she and the rest of her team made their way back to the locker room. She could feel the distance between them stretch into a void she couldn’t seem to cross.
The team leaned on one another and smiled as they entered the locker room.
Coach Spaulding nodded to each of them as they filed in.
Following her teammates, Rose tried to keep her head up even as she went completely ignored.
But there was disappointment on her coach’s face as she walked past, and she hated to see it.
This woman took a chance on her, fought to ensure she could keep her scholarship, and it felt like her lacking ability to break through with the team was a mark against her.
“Aldrich-St. James,” Coach ground out, and Rose slowed. “Excellent work out there today.”
She didn’t agree, but she nodded anyway.
“Thanks, Coach,” she breathed, pressing a hand into the ribs that were still healing, and Coach’s eyes dropped to the movement.
“Go see Cyd after your shower. Make sure you grab an ice pack.” Coach Spencer’s lips turned down as she looked Rose over. “I trained them better—”
“It’s fine, really,” she started, cutting off the Coach and wincing when the dark brows shot up. “Sorry, Coach.”
“They’re being petty.”
“I think next year will be better. They’ll throw down the gauntlet this year, and when I’m still here”—Rose lifted a shoulder and swallowed the shudder of pain—“they’ll get over it. It didn’t impact our play too much, so we have that.”
“You could have scored three different times. If this were a game, it would have been over.” Coach pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long sigh. “Clean yourself up, and go see Cyd.”
She hoped she was right, especially as Coach nodded and waved her through the door into the locker room.
With a couple of glaring exceptions, she considered herself good at reading character and drive.
She avoided people who seemed to have ulterior motives these days, but in highly competitive areas like college sports, that was hard to do.
But in judging another team, she was almost undefeated in determining whether they’d react.
When she came to Montgomery, she knew they were aggressive, but fair.
They played in tighter formations than she was used to, but it was in their passing game she could support them.
They trusted her to get the job done. It was a sixth-sense type of playing.
She’d loved watching it. Playing in it was magnificent.
But today it was like her first day all over again. They played around her at every turn. It was like whiplash and so much worse than when they cut her off in a social sense. They’d closed ranks and, once again, she was firmly on the outside.
Coach clapped and gave them her customary “well done” speech.
She added a comment or two about teamwork and missed opportunities with a pointed look at Laurel, then to the vice-captain, Gretchen, before sending one more look at Rose.
It was a heavy reminder that she needed to fight back.
A second later, Coach turned and disappeared through the doors.
The other coaches fell in line behind her.
Rose pushed herself through undressing and stood under the shower, letting the heat wash away the sweat and dirt.
She was drying off, tying her hair into a bun atop her head when her assigned away-game roommate, Bridget, passed by.
She timed her steps to avoid looking like she was stopping and talking to Rose.
“Great game.” It was little more than a whisper as she passed by, the brunette’s eyes darting from her to the rest of the team like she was worried she’d be booed out of the room for talking to her.
Rose sighed and nodded. “You too.”
Bridget was gone just as fast as she had appeared.
Most of the team disappeared out the door to their own homes and showers.
When she wandered down to the trainer’s room, Rose rapped her knuckles on the doorframe to get the attention of Cydney Friedman, the team’s athletic trainer, who grinned at her when she looked up.
“Ms. Aldrich-St. James, Coach said you might need some special attention.”
Cyd was a bubble of sunshine, happy and warm and willing to burn someone to ash if they dared cross her or her athletes.
Rose appreciated her attention to detail since they’d spent a lot of time together over the last month.
Lots of bruising and stretching and ice packs.
She’d been in the trainer’s crosshairs the other day for not stopping by on her way out of practice.
Especially since she limped into the office at the training complex on Wednesday morning after an ice bath.
“Just a check over, nothing special needed,” Rose murmured. She knew she was intensely bruised, but at least nothing was broken.
“I think that’s for me to decide.” Cyd waved her over, and Rose sat on the table, pulling her sweatshirt off again. “Well, clearly you haven’t been breathing fine or you wouldn’t be on this table.”
“It’s painful, but nothing’s broken from what I can tell.” Rose laid down, gripping Cyd’s hand when the trainer had her roll onto her side to check the bruising that moved around her ribs to her back.
“You’ve been keeping up your diet to ensure you limit inflammation?
” Cyd asked, and Rose nodded. She wasn’t going to mention the shake, burger, and fries she split with Kirin the other night.
Not that she had the time, too busy hissing when Cyd pressed into the bruises.
“Have you been using your bruise cream?”
“On what I can reach,” Rose answered, and Cyd grunted her disapproval.
The trainer murmured to herself a little more, having Rose move this way and that as she stretched her out and checked on the other hassles they’d been dealing with. There were questions here and there, but once they were done, Cyd said what they were both thinking: “You need friends on this team.”
“Is there a prescription for that?” Rose asked, earning another wide smile.
“Unfortunately, no.” Cyd helped her off the table and cracked an ice pack for her, wrapping it up before handing it over. “Stay hydrated and rest.”
“Yes, boss,” Rose muttered as she shuffled out of the office, pressing the ice pack against her side after she tugged her sweatshirt back on.
She didn’t have friends on the team, but the staff seemed to like her just fine. Eventually, it would turn around. She could only hope that came sooner rather than later, and Kirin’s plan for the rest of the semester helped.