The game, p.17
The Game, page 17
I rolled my eyes, my ire continuing to rise. Maybe it was his early morning “I take nothing seriously” antics still bothering me. Maybe it was the fact that when I’d tried to raise the idea of taking on more coaching responsibilities because I was worried about my plateauing recovery, he’d brushed me off.
Every time I’d tried to talk to him about my recovery—or lack thereof—since I’d gotten the word from my care team, he’d redirected to talk about working out together and seeing if Sylvie had set up any tryouts yet. Very much the positive thinker, he had tunnel vision when it came to doing anything but playing soccer.
Fifteen minutes later we were both made up, my hair all teased out and Matti’s smoother than glass. He looked me up and down, his brow furrowing when he saw my hands crossed in front of my chest, my toes tapping in a pair of stiff new cleats. “I think you forgot something,” he said as he whipped one of his ever-present hair ties off his wrist and tossed it to me. “You hate having your hair like that. Here—use this.”
Dammit. That was all it took. With one casual observation acknowledging my discomfort and a toss of a frayed red elastic, I completely lost whatever minuscule grip I’d still had on my heart. The walls I kept frantically reconstructing to keep him from completely barreling in like he owned the place—like he owned me—crumbled. I could see how easy it would be to lose myself completely in him, even as he seemed hellbent on showing me that I owned him right back.
“Thanks,” I choked out as I bent over and whipped my hair into a ballerina bun on top of my head. “Slightly better than the sloppy ponytail.”
He grinned at me. “I do love that ponytail. Nice to have something to hang onto—”
Mortified, I tried to shush him with zero success and his arm descended heavily on my shoulder as he tucked me up against him. “Ah, c’mon, Abby. We’re engaged, remember?”
Before I could answer, a small horde of runners called our names and whipped mics and mic packs onto us, then pushed us out onto the field of the Rebels’ indoor training facility, where we would be taping a segment in support of our work with the youth camps. A few of the kids who participated were already out on the field passing balls back and forth and jumping up and down. Their excitement and nerves were palpable, and echoed by the way their parents stood on the sideline whispering to each other while clutching coffee cups from the craft services setup.
“Places, everyone,” a disembodied voice hollered from behind me, and a runner pushed Matti and me over to the heavily made-up and locally famous figures of Dean Shannon and Rachel Midas. They were both shorter than I’d imagined, a few inches above me but a good eight below Matti. He theatrically crouched down to offer his hand. Dean harrumphed and turned bright red, while Rachel bit back a laugh.
“Welcome, welcome, you two, to our humble show,” she said in that bright, cheery morning voice that was the alarm clock for so many sleepy Chicagoans.
“Thanks, guys, for having us. You ready to play with some balls?”
I let Matti speak for both of us. He had all the words while I contented myself with surly glares and rolled eyes.
Dean and Rachel giggled politely. “That’s what the plan is,” Dean hopped in. “Hope that works for you two hotshots.”
“Oh sure, Abby and I feel really strongly about this program and we’re excited to be involved with it.”
Dean smirked. “Then this should be a walk in the park for both of you. Just follow our lead, make some jokes and, honey, stop scowling. Smile a little, show us that pretty face.”
Matti frowned at him. “She’s always pretty.”
“Of course she is,” Rachel smoothly stepped in. “She’s beautiful! After our intro, we’ll cut to a quick commercial break, and when we come back it will be time for you to run some drills with these adorable kids. Are there any questions?”
We both shook our heads and I raised and lowered my shoulders a few times and wiggled my jaw. I hated being on camera. And I really hated being told to smile.
“Don’t be nervous, Abby! You’ve really taken the town by storm and this is meant to be light-hearted fun—so, don’t be afraid to ham it up for the cameras.” She winked at us and Matti, like it was an uncontrollable response, winked back. I huffed out a breath and rolled my eyes again.
“Places, everyone, final marks. We’re going live in five—four—three—two—one!”
“Good morning, Chicago! I’m Rachel Midas with Dean Shannon and we’re here today with two superstar athletes who are excited to share the work that they’ve done with the Rebels’ Little Flames camps!” She gave Dean a playful smile as she handed over the narration.
“That’s right, Rachel. Looking forward to seeing what these kids can do shortly, but first. Matthias and Abby, welcome to the show.”
“Thanks, Dean, Rachel. We’re happy to be here—we’re both big fans of the show, right, Abby?” He nudged me.
“Right, Matti. Huge fans. The biggest.” I grinned and felt a cool breeze on my teeth as my mouth stretched wide. “We also get to talk about something near and dear to my heart, so I’m pumped.” I’d never felt less pumped in my life. Nor had I ever used that word un-ironically.
“So, Matthias, let’s start with you. Tough loss last week against Dallas.”
“It was, Rachel, it really was. But we did our best and that’s what counts.”
“You had a nice run there, too, didn’t you? Tell us what that’s like.”
“I mean, I’m a defender, right? A protector. I happened to be in the right spot when Dallas’ striker came down the field.”
“A clean tackle though, that was well-done.”
“Thanks, Rachel.”
The awkwardness was choking me as Dean cleared his throat. “Abby, tell us what you’ve been up to here in our great city. We love the social media of you two out and about exploring the town.”
“Yeah, we’re really getting into the Chicago vibe. I’m helping Matti and the Rebels out with their youth camps and also recently started assistant coaching the midfielders at Northwestern, which is where I went to school for sports management.” That was good, right? I definitely sounded a little stiff, but nothing too terrible. I frantically combed through my brain to come up with some sort of funny anecdote.
“That’s not all she’s doing,” Matti chimed in. “It’s great that she’s helping out with the coaching and camps and stuff, but she’s really here to rehab after a knee injury and prep for her comeback, right, Abby?”
“Oh, is that right? When do you think you’ll be back?” asked Rachel, leaning forward and tapping my hand.
“I mean, sure, I’m training, but I’m not sure when—”
“She’ll be ready by the summer.” Matti shouldered in again and my cheeks started to burn.
“This is fantastic. Can’t wait to hear more about the comeback, but we need to take a quick break and then talk some more about these camps!”
Matti and I flashed uncomfortable smiles as Dean deftly took the attention off of us.
“And…we’re out.”
“Phew, you two are adorable with the way you finish each other’s sentences and support each other!” Rachel grinned at us and went over to join Dean by the camera crew.
“Stabby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted you,” Matti said quietly once we were alone.
“You shouldn’t have, but that is so you—you act, don’t think!”
“Hey, that’s not completely fair,” he protested.
“Feels that way to me sometimes. Why can’t you support me when I talk about the camps and coaching? I love it, it’s not all about playing.” I crossed my arms across my chest and could feel my heart rate rocket against my forearm.
“Because you’re a player, not a coach! You’re only twenty-eight, not ready to retire. Come on, Abby.” He shot me a disappointed grimace, the corners of his mouth turned down and that damn little crease that only formed when he was exceptionally frustrated or stressed making an appearance.
I was fuming quietly. He was so earnest and I knew his intentions were good, but this bullheaded stubbornness was annoying.
“Trouble in paradise?” Dean interrupted us with a leer and, when we shook our heads, he laughed. “Sure, kids, sure. I know a lovers’ spat when I see one.”
“Back off, dude. We’re fine,” Matti snapped at him as he wrapped an arm around me protectively.
“And we’re back in five, four, three, two, one!” shouted the producer as Rachel hustled over to us, arriving at her spot in time for “one.”
“Hey, sports fans, I hope you’re ready for this. I think it’s time to see what our pro athletes are up to aside from scoring on the field,” Rachel enthused, seemingly unaware of how dirty that sounded.
Matti picked up on it and I elbowed him in the ribs as I saw his mouth open to make a smart-ass remark. His jaw shut with a snap and he gave me a wide-eyed “who me?” innocent look.
We walked over to where the kids were playing and Matti started running them through a few drills while I continued the conversation about the camps with Rachel and Dean, talking about the scholarship programs the Rebels were supporting along with the ESL and basic literacy work that we’d started this year. I knew Matti didn’t want to go public with his own issues, but we really wouldn’t have gone in this direction if it weren’t for him. We cut to a break and I handed over the mic pack so I could help with the final drill—a scrimmage, where Matti and I would “captain” each of the teams.
I joined Matti by the kids and held up a hand. “Who’s ready for a scrimmage?”
“We are!” they screamed in chorus. “And we’re gonna kick your butts.”
Matti counted them off, then he and I each took a side to play against each other. The trash talking between the two of us began immediately and I could only thank whatever providential messenger had nudged me to get rid of our mic packs before we started. The kids caught every other insult and were rolling on the ground as it devolved into the two of us playing off each other. It ended with a dirty tackle on my end as I shoved grass and dirt down his shirt. The kids dogpiled on top of us.
“Matthias? Abby? We really should get back to—” Rachel tried to capture our attention, but Matti held up a hand like a boss to cut her off. He’d risen up on his forearms to hold the weight of all the squirming, giggling children off of me.
“Kids? Time to get off!” one of the parents shouted from the sideline and, with a chorus of “awws,” the weight above us started to release.
“You okay there?” he asked, and his voice was husky with concern as he swiped at a clod of grass hanging from his ear. “This would be a lousy place to reinjure yourself.”
“Oh, I’m fine, sweet pea.” I grinned up at him, both of us now pink-cheeked, covered in dirt and grass stains. “Come here. You’ve got a little something right—”
Matti obliged and drew closer and I could see the lighter striations of gold and gray in his baby-blue eyes warm up as our bodies came into contact.
“—here!” I shouted as I rubbed another clod of turf directly in his face. He shot off me and started pawing at his face disgustedly.
I rolled over onto my back, laughing uncontrollably. Tears leaking out of my eyes messed up the carefully applied makeup.
“Hmm, that was quite the experience, Rachel, wouldn’t you say?” Dean’s dry observation cut through.
Matti crawled back over and collapsed next to me. He pulled me over to his lap for a kiss. “Think Sylvie will be pissed or love this?”
I frowned as I drew back, wiping my mouth with my hand. All of a sudden this wasn’t funny anymore. The kisses weren’t going to make up for it and I’d gotten sucked into his bright supernova personality again. Everything was fun as hell in that place, but here we were on a field, covered in dirt, when all we were supposed to have done was act cute and talk up the camps. The kids and parents on the sidelines were whooping it up and cheering us on—at least a few people were enjoying themselves.
Rachel and Dean appeared in front of us, a camera guy with a shoulder cam right behind him to catch the closing shot. “You two about done?” Dean asked.
Our eyes met and I could tell he was struggling not to laugh. I started to apologize, but Matti laughed and held out a hand for Dean to haul him up, then he returned the favor for me.
“Whew, you two.” Rachel mock fanned herself. “Is everything this fun with you?”
“Oh, we’re a barrel of laughs all the time.” I was sweetly sarcastic. “You should see us battle over the remote.” Matti eyed me with a heated stare, remembering the last time we’d tried—and gotten distracted from—watching a movie. “Thanks so much for having us.”
Matti held out a filthy paw and waved at the camera genially. “Yeah, thanks. We should really do this again sometime.”
“And that’s a wrap!” came the disembodied voice of the show runner.
“Oh my god.” I turned on a heel and stalked off the field with as much dignity as I could. Behind me I could hear Matti continuing to chitchat with Rachel and Dean for a few minutes, smoothing everything over and saying how much the kids and the two of us had enjoyed ourselves.
“Abby, wait!” He caught up to me in the green room, where I’d pulled off my cleats and pitched them into the corner.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I grumbled. “Give me my jacket and let’s get out of here.”
“Stabby, wait. Are you…mad? At me?” He tossed my jacket and it landed directly on my head.
“Yes!” My shout was muffled by the million layers of down. I pulled it off and thrust my arms into it then held them up to Matti. “I hate looking like an immature brat and this was supposed to be about the kids.”
“The kids had fun today. I heard you talking up the camps and you did a great job. I wanted to make things a little more fun,” he said as he swooped me up like a bride. “Sorry if I took it too far. You can bitch at me all you want on the way home, but both of us know that that was way more fun than it would have been otherwise.”
He smirked like the smug bastard he pretended to be all the time and, once more, the line between my Matti and everyone else’s was blurred. I sighed and nestled my head in the crook of his jaw.
“Fine, take me home and get me cleaned up. But you’ve got to stop interrupting me. Take this kind of stuff seriously, too. I mean it. I was really pissed off there.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted you like that.” He ground his chin into the top of my head until I shrieked and punched him. “Seriously, sorry.” His strides matched the steady thump of his heart as he easily took the steps out to the parking garage by twos. “C’mon. Let’s get you fixed up.”
I went along with him, but the disquieting feelings of frustration from this morning kept getting bigger. How could he not listen to me, interrupt and correct me publicly like that and think that a fast “sorry” would fix everything?
He was refusing to see what I was trying to shove in front of his face. I was done playing and scared about that fact. I needed him to support the version of me that I was slowly becoming—no longer a player but someone else. And I needed him to find his way to making his public persona the one that I saw—we couldn’t work if only one of us was willing to grow up.
We weren’t the same people who’d entered this agreement back in July, and we weren’t even the same people who’d said that we wanted this to be a real relationship for the first time not even a month ago. Things had changed, and I needed him to acknowledge that.
Chapter Twenty
Matti
Even though we’d been home for more than a week, we were still moving on vacation time and were late, late, late for a fundraiser for our youth camps. All Rebels team members and their families were required to be in attendance, all dressed to the nines. Even those who rarely bothered to show up at the camps would be there under orders of management to “support the cause, look nice and not raise hell.”
Abby kept me waiting, impatiently, while she finalized her makeup for the evening. I sat at the island texting my brothers on our new group chat that Abby had initiated for me back in Mexico after a few too many shots of tequila had rendered me incapable of saying no when she’d demanded my phone and texted my brothers saying we were family, dammit, and needed to start communicating like one.
On the chat, Markus was moaning about Alina’s morning sickness and Max was screwing with him by sending GIFs of people puking. It may have taken me ten times as long as it would have anyone else, but I managed to answer Markus’ frantic attempts to change the subject by telling them about the crap weather here, how bad I wanted to be on the beach still and how little I liked being stuffed into a tux for fundraisers. My few sentences stopped the ribbing dead and both immediately congratulated me for “using my words,” then it was back to giving Markus more crap.
A faint scent of the tropics and the clipped sound of stilettos on our polished hardwood floors pulled me out of the perfect GIF search and my jaw dropped as Abby strode into the room, her long athlete legs eating up the space between us. She was wearing a floor-length, clingy gold dress with little cap sleeves. The narrow column accentuated the smooth curves of her compact body, draped just so over her ass so that I couldn’t stop myself from smacking it as she pushed past me. The sound echoed as my hand popped off those tight muscles. She pulled a coat off the hook by the door, swirled it around her shoulders and spun to face me. “You like?” she asked with a crooked grin and motioned to me to push my mouth closed.
I nodded and managed to croak out, “Very nice, Stabby. The kids will love it.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “You look very handsome too. Come here and let me tie your tie.”
I adjusted myself as subtly as I could, but she still caught me and pinked up delightfully as I moved into her space. She quickly whipped the tie into shape and paused with her hands on the lapels of my tuxedo coat then, quick as a bird, she rose up on her tiptoes and gave me a peck on the lips. “Very handsome.”
She settled on her heels and stepped away slowly. I caught her by the hand and pulled her back toward me. We stood there for a moment and I could hear the hum of the heating vents kick on, the smell of her hair and my aftershave mingling together as I inhaled deeply. It was a sensory memory that would be locked away in my heart.
