Page 135 of Play For Me

“It’s good to see you again,” she murmured, squeezing me tight. “I hear you haven’t had the best time these last few weeks.”

To my horror, a lump came to my throat, and I wondered if I was actually going to start crying in front of Cecelia’s family.

When she pulled back, she gave me an understanding smile and squeezed my arm. “Come sit with us.”

I couldn’t really say no, so I followed her over to the family. I noticed the whole crowd of aunts, uncles, and cousins weren’t around today—probably to take some of the pressure off Cecelia’s first game back. But the Littles were there, and they all greeted me like nothing had happened. Vega even hugged me. Cecelia’s brothers weren’t exactly welcoming, but they didn’t glare at me, either. And her parents were as friendly as they’d been in the days after her injury scare.

Before I fucked everything up.

Watching the first half of that game had been a special form of torture. I knew she was freaked out about her knee—the fear was written all over her face. Knowing I hadn’t been able to help her through those fears in the preceding weeks absolutely gutted me.

She was pissed off and scared out of her mind and playing awful, and it was my fault. And there was nothing I could do about it.

When she got the yellow card before the half, I knew I couldn’t sit there and just watch any longer. Maybe Devon or Coach Carla would be pissed if they found out, but I needed to talk to her, needed to try to do something to help. So I made my way into the building and found her in the equipment room.

Seeing her break down so completely hurt like hell. But it also fixed something inside of me, in a weird way. For the first time, I didn’t doubt that I could support her the way she needed. That I could be strong enough to work through it with her. Emotional shit is not supposed to be my forte. But seeing Cecelia crumble like that, I didn’t feel uncomfortable or defensive or want to shut down.

I just wanted to be with her. Tears and all.

You were my horses, Solomon.

To anyone else, it would have sounded ridiculous, but I got it.You were the thing that centered me.

I’m so damn relieved that I’m going to get the chance to tell her that it’s the same for me. That she centers me in a way not even the ranch can. That she makes me feel vulnerable but somehow stronger, all at the same time. That I love her more than anything and I’m finally ready to fight for us.

We just have to get through this game first.

“I don’t know what you said to her in there,” Jay mutters next to me as we watch her streak down the field with the ball. “But she doesn’t even look like the same person.”

“She looks like she’s having fun,” I say, my grin matching hers as she gets around a defender.

She scores again with five minutes left. Helen adds another goal in the last thirty seconds. They win, 3-1. And just before she’s surrounded by a crowd of screaming teammates, she looks up at where I’m sitting with her family and grins as wide as I’ve ever seen.

I waitwith the Ransomes while the team hits the locker room. Her brothers and mom want to recap every play, while Cash just beams and looks slightly clueless about the finer points of the game. When she finally comes out, freshly showered and dressed in sweats, her family descends on her, hugging her like they haven’t seen her in weeks.

They want to take her out for dinner, but she declines, telling her mom that she’s tired. But she meets my eyes when she says it, and I hope that means she’s still willing to talk to me.

Her dad hugs me again before they go. It’s not even surprising at this point. “Don’t fuck this up, kid,” he mutters in my ear, slapping my back hard.

I have no intention of fucking it up.

It takes forever for her to say goodbye to her family, everyone hugging her and talking about the goals and teasing her about the fouls in the first half. Once she’s hugged everyone multiple times, it’s finally just the two of us.

“Come with me?” I ask, holding out my hand.

She doesn’t answer. But she does take my hand.

I have some snacks for her in my car—a protein shake, a peanut butter sandwich, and some fruit, all the things I know she prefers to eat post-game. “You were planning this?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as she opens the little cooler.

“I was hoping.”

It’s a quiet ride. Cecelia dozes, exhaustion taking over once the game’s adrenaline wears off. She used to take a post-game nap on my chest, back before I messed it all up, but I try not to think about that. For now, I’ll be content just sitting next to her, hearing her soft breathing while she sleeps, taking in the scent of her shampoo, knowing she’s safe and here with me.

November means an earlier sunset, and it’s pretty dark by the time I pull up in front of the ranch house. Red is gone for the night, out at a horse auction in Bakersfield, but he promised to leave some pasta for us to reheat when I told him my plan.

“Cecelia,” I murmur, looking over at her in the passenger seat. She looks so pretty when she sleeps, her face soft, those long eyelashes splayed out against her freckles. I reach over and run a finger across her jaw, unable to help myself. For all I know, this might be my last chance to touch her like this. Just because she agreed to talk to me doesn’t mean she’s going to want to stick around once she hears what I have to say.

Don’t practice for defeat before you’ve even started,I think to myself. It’s something my new therapist has suggested I adopt as a mantra of sorts.