Page 130 of The Defender

BROOKLYN

It’d been a week since I left my mom at brunch, and we hadn’t exchanged a single word since. I wasn’t surprised. She’d never contact me first after I humiliated her in public, and I had no desire to call her and make amends.

However, Iwassurprised by my indifference to our falling out. Just a month ago, her silence would’ve sent me into a spiral of anxiety. But ironically, hearing her say what I’d suspected all these years healed something in me. I no longer had to guess. Iknewhow she felt about me, and even if it wasn’t positive, the certainty took away her power. She could no longer dangle the possibility of her approval over me.

The only thing I was sad about was not saying goodbye to Charlie or hello to my new half-sister. According to social media, my mother gave birth to a healthy baby girl named Teresa. She was adorable, all blue eyes and pink cheeks.

Maybe one day, when Charlie and Teresa were older, we could develop a relationship independent of my mother. Until then, I had to focus on the people who wanted me here.

“This is nuts! I’ve never seen this place so packed.” Carina returned from the bar with two pints in hand. She slid intothe booth next to me, cheeks flushed from battling through the crowd.

Blackcastle had won this afternoon’s match against Munich. Fans and players alike had flooded the Angry Boar to celebrate, and the crowd was currently singing one of the club’s songs in drunken unison.

“It’s a new year. People are excited,” I said.

Everyone was feeling good about Blackcastle’s chances at winning the Champions League. Ever since Vincent and Asher called a truce and started playingwitheach other instead ofagainsteach other, we’d practically been unstoppable. Still, victory wasn’t guaranteed, and I knew Vincent was more stressed about the upcoming knockout stage than he let on.

“Maybe. I can’t believe Vincent scored another free kick though.” Carina shook her head. “That’s not usually his forte.”

“It’s because he’s playing for Brooklyn,” Scarlett said with an impish smile. “I’m his sister, so trust me when I say his performance today was definitely that of someone who wanted to look good in front of his girlfriend.”

My face warmed. “Stop,” I protested over my friends’ knowing laughter. “I’ve been to every match since we started dating. He doesn’t always play like that.”

“Sure, but it’s different now. The man flew toCaliforniafor you,” Carina pointed out. “If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

Something tightened in my gut. “It’s not love. It’s ego. The match, I mean. He wanted to win, and he did.”

Scarlett and Carina exchanged glances. I knew what they were thinking—I was in denial, it was love and I didn’t know it, so on and so forth.

But it waswaytoo soon for the L word. I cared about Vincent a lot. I missed him when he wasn’t there, and I couldn’t stop smiling when he was. He was the only person who couldcomfort me without saying a word and thrill me with just a look. But those things were natural in all healthy relationships, right? They didn’t mean it was love. It couldn’t be. Not yet.

“Ladies!” Adil popped up next to our table with a pitcher of darkish liquid. “May I interest you in a customized, non-alcoholic refreshment? It’s part lemonade, part iced tea, and part Coke with a twist of fruit. I created it myself. It’s delicious.”

“So it’s an Arnold Palmer with Coke and a twist,” I said, amused. I could always count on Adil for a welcome distraction.

“That’s what people with no imagination call it,” he said. “No offense. ButIlike to call it the Adil Chakir. Here. Try it.”

He poured us all a glass. I took a sip and nearly spat it out. The concept was fine, but whatever ratio he used for the ingredients didnotwork. It tasted like soda that’d been left out for three days too long.

“What do you think?” he asked eagerly.

“Great,” I choked out. “So…interesting.”

“Right? That’s what I told Stevens. He said it’s so bad even Truffle wouldn’t drink it, but he just has bad taste. Oy, Stevens!” He yelled across the room. “You’re wrong! The girls like it!”

“They’re just being nice!” Stevens yelled back.

“And you’re just jealous you don’t have your own drink!”

While Adil went to argue with his teammate, Asher, Vincent, and Noah came over to sit with us. Fans had been dragging them away all night to talk to them or buy them a round, but I didn’t mind. This was their moment; they deserved to shine.

Still, I couldn’t help but smile when Vincent slid into the booth next to me and kissed me on the cheek. “How’s your night going? Miss me yet?”

I fluttered my lashes. “I was enjoying a testosterone-free chat with the girls, but I guess I’m happy you’re here. You’re nice eye candy.”

He placed a hand over his heart. “Me, eye candy? Thank you for recognizing my contributions off the pitch. There’s more to me than football, you know.”

I laughed while Scarlett attempted to engage an uncomfortable-looking Noah across the table.