Page 39 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door (Love in Maple Falls #5)

CLéMENT

E verything hurts.

A dull, persistent throb that hums behind my left eye like a reminder. Of the pain of loss. Of the game. Of the girl I love and may never see again.

I’m on Weston’s couch again. My bags sit beside the coffee table, neatly packed—my entire life reduced to a carry-on and a duffel for today’s flight. I keep checking my phone even though I know she hasn’t messaged. No new notifications. No pings. No calls.

If she asked me to stay, even for a second—I would. But she hasn’t. And I can’t be the one to ask her to keep waiting for someone who might never be whole again.

Mathieu is across the room, sitting on the arm of Weston’s armchair, sipping coffee. He doesn’t say anything for a while. Just watches me in the way only someone who’s known you since childhood can.

“You’re waiting for her to call,” he says finally.

I scrub a hand through my hair. “I can’t stay, Mathieu.”

“Why not? ”

“My body is telling me I can’t do this anymore. You saw me out there.”

“I saw a man playing through pain.”

“I saw a man about to ruin the only dream he’s ever had.”

He leans forward. “Clément, you are not your worst day and you’re not your stats. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count. After my breakup with you-know-who, which friend dragged me to the stupid jazz club every Thursday so I wouldn’t sit in my flat and eat pasta out of a pot?”

I give him a sideways look. “You still eat pasta out of a pot.”

“Sometimes. But now it’s by choice.”

I can’t help smiling.

He softens. “You’ve always been the one who makes people believe they can be more.

More brave. More honest. I came to Maple Falls because I needed to be reminded of that.

And I’ve seen it in you, with her, ever since you thought you were trying to win her over for fun.

She’s always meant more. She brings out the man you truly are. ”

The man I truly am. Integration .

I press my palms into my eyes. The tears are stupid. I’m too old to cry like this. But there they are. “It’s not fair. I finally meet someone who makes it all make sense, and now I have to go.”

Mathieu doesn’t rush to answer. Instead, he crouches in front of me with that same serious expression he wore when we lost our first youth championship in Lyon. “So don’t.”

My head snaps up. “It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe it is. You love her.”

I don’t answer.

He takes my phone gently from my hand and sets it on the table. “You keep waiting for her to reach out. But maybe she’s waiting to see if you’ll fight for this.”

I close my eyes. It feels like there’s not enough air in this place.

“She believes in you, Clément,” he says softly. “What about you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Just walks to the kitchen and starts pouring more coffee, humming a jazz tune under his breath. “Anyhow,” he goes on, “I think you’ll be able to answer that soon enough.”

That’s when there’s a knock at the door and I know something is up.

Weston struts out of the bedroom and doesn’t even check the peephole. Just opens it, muttering, “And so it begins.”

Lucian walks in first, carrying a brown paper bag that smells like takeout. “He eating?” he calls toward the kitchen.

“Not really,” Mathieu answers.

“I brought fries.” Lucian drops the bag on the table and flops into a chair. “Nothing fixes an existential crisis like carbs.”

Then comes Jamie, grinning wide. “Did I miss the bro-vention?”

“We’re still setting up,” Weston says, stepping aside as Carson enters.

“You all texted each other?” I ask as I start looking for an escape route.

Weston shuts the door with a definitive click. “No. We group texted. There’s a difference.”

I bury my face in my hands. “This isn’t necessary.”

Weston leans against the kitchen island, arms crossed. “Clément, you’re trying to walk away from your career, your team, your town, and a woman you look at like she hung the moon. So, respectfully, you don’t get to decide what’s necessary.”

Lucian tosses me a water bottle. “You’re scared, man. We get it. You don’t think your body can hold up. But what if it can? There are specialists. Therapies. We’ll figure it out.”

Jamie chimes in. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. We’ve got Lucas for goal when you can’t do it. You can rest. Heal. Play when you’re ready.”

Carson steps forward. “You’re not leaving a town that loves you. We’re a team and we’re only just getting going, so we can’t let you leave yet. And you’re definitely not leaving her .”

I still don’t know how Marcy found her way into my life so quickly. I just know that I don’t want to live in a world where she’s not part of it.

Mathieu, quiet until now, speaks up.

“You belong here,” he says softly, stepping into the circle of my teammates. “This is what you always wanted. A home. Don’t be afraid to have your dream come true.”

I can’t hold it back anymore.

I think of my mother, standing on the bleachers with her handkerchief, always waving, always watching. She believed in me before anyone else did. And if she were here now, she’d tell me not to quit.

And oh, how she’d love Marcy.

If she were here, she wouldn’t let me run away, no matter how scared I was.

I feel it. That soft click inside when the truth locks into place. There’s only one choice.

“I’m staying,” I say.

The room erupts. “Yes!” Jamie shouts. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Weston high-fives Lucian. Carson actually fist-pumps.

“That’s the Clément I know,” Mathieu says with a brotherly pride before he pulls me into a bear hug .

When he lets me go, I realize I’m breathless with relief.

A quick glance at my watch reminds me that I should have been leaving just minutes from now.

But everything has changed. “Forget the bags, cancel the taxi. I have to tell Marcy.” I dial her quickly with everyone watching, just to find out where she is because this is something I have to tell her in person.

The phone rings through to voice mail. “That’s strange.” I hang up and look at the phone. “It’s never gone straight to voice mail before.”

“Oh, Marcy …” Mathieu grimaces. “About that…”

I frown. “What do you mean, about that ?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “If she’s half the woman I know she is… Well, she may have already bought a ticket.”

“A ticket?” My voice sounds abnormally high.

He cringes. “To Paris.”

Everyone stares at him.

“She what ?”

He shrugs. “She thought you were leaving. I told her you had a flight booked for today.”

The room falls silent again, but not for long, because I’m already grabbing my keys and all the courage I have left.

I don’t know how, but I’m going to make this right before that plane leaves the ground.