Page 55 of A Match Made In Fall

She continues exploring while I drop onto the couch. The exhaustion is starting to set in, both physically and mentally.

“Aww. I love this picture of your family.” She carries the frame over and sits down beside me on the couch.

I slide closer to her. “Yes, this is the fam. Meet the Reeds—my parents, Charles and Theresa. That's my brother Logan. That's Brendan. And that extremely handsome guy right there is me.”

She giggles. “Yes, I know what you look like.”

“I’m just making sure.”

Our eyes meet, and we both grow quiet. I take full opportunity to capitalize on this moment and lean over to kiss her. The second our lips touch, everything stops. All the frustration and embarrassment from tonight fades away like it doesn’t even matter.

And kissing Isabella is every bit as good as I remember. It might even be better.

When we finally pull apart, I rest my forehead against hers. I’m not in any hurry to move away from her. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight. I’m sorry if I’m not better company right now.”

Her expression softens. “Do you see me complaining?”

“No.”

“Then stop apologizing.” She lifts her hands and cups my face, forcing me to look at her.

“You need to let yourself be in your feelings. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary.”

Feelings? It takes me a few seconds to figure out that she’s referring to the game and not what I’m feeling for her.

“Feel all of it—the frustration, disappointment, embarrassment,” she continues. “You’re not in front of the camera or the fans.”

I listen because she’s saying exactly what I need to hear tonight.

“You’re right.”

“And I understand what you’re going through,” she says. “I can’t count how many times I pretended I was fine every time I lost a competition, missed a step, or fell during a routine. I’d just get up and shake it off. Then smile for all the photos.”

“Yes, that’s the worst part,” I say, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You're allowed to have a bad night, Austin. And you're allowed to be upset. You don't have to put on a happy face all the time.”

The words hit me hard. Because I need this reminder often.

“I know,” I admit, sinking back against the couch. The knot in my chest continues to unravel. “When I missed that block…” I shake my head and close my eyes. “The second it happened, I knew I blew it and they were going to score. It felt like…”

“Like you failed everyone?”

“Yes. My teammates, the coaches, and the fans.”

She reaches for my hand. “Austin, that one play didn't lose that game.”

“Maybe not, but the thousands of people who watched it happen might think differently.”

“Okay,” she says gently. “Then tell me this. If one of your teammates missed a play and blamed himself for an entire game, what would you say to him?”

I sigh. “I'd tell him that wins and losses belong to the whole team. We are supposed to work together.”

She squeezes my hand. “Exactly.”

“Okay, we can't talk about me all night,” I say. “How are you? Tell me about your day.”

She turns toward me, stretching her booted leg out in front of her.