Page 42 of Your Rule to Break

We sit in silence for a minute before he says, “Hey. I’m proud of you. You know that, right?”

“Thanks, Dad. I know you are.”

I appreciate the change of subject because, while it’s clear something is going on, he’s not ready to talk about it.

Chapter 22

Emilie

When We Playis hosting an event for city kids and that means I’m spending my Friday night watching professional athletes run around likethey’rekids. This event was my idea, and I’m thankful the Cosmos let us alter their practice schedule and steal facility time during the season. It’s after school on a Friday, so that means they just shifted practice to end earlier.

The point is to do a little press forWhen We Playand the Cosmos, while kids get instruction on specific football positions. Obviously, we have Tripp and a few wide receivers, Ben Gambill showing how to drop back and throw a pass as a quarterback, and then Zack, with all things long snapper.

It might be a weird mix of players and positions, but it’s who we could get to bite on a Friday night volunteer opportunity.

Once the kids check in, they get their own Cosmos jersey, and it’s making my heart hurt how cute they are. Boys and girls, aged eight to twelve, run around showing off their new team wear. There’s even an option to wear eye black like the team does during real games.

I’ve never really thought about having kids. After high school, it was college, and my path was unconventional. My parents offered to pay for my tuition, but I didn’t take it. I didn’t want the experience to be tainted, or held above my head in any way, shape, or form. Plus, since I wasn’t going to law school, I knew I was already on the wrong foot.

Instead, I worked my ass off—in school to get great grades and out of school to scrape together every penny I could. I learned how to get by with three hours of sleep. Obviously, that didn’t leave much room for partying or hanging out. I tried to get to every sporting event I could, but that was the extent of my consistent social life.

College took me longer than most, but I graduated with minimal debt and honors, and I’m proud I did it that way. I heard from a friend of a friend about an assistant opening, which turned out to be for Willow, and things have never been the same.

Now, I watch a girl, probably ten years old, learn how to properly hold a football that is almost as big as her. She laughs as she runs, zigzagging through the course, and some Cosmos players fail to catch her.

My ovaries. They hurt. Bad.

This lightheaded feeling washes over me, and I put my hand on my chest to feel my heartbeat. It consistently thuds, no spaces or anything out of sorts. I suck in a deep breath, letting the air stretch my lungs.

I recognize the feeling, the uncomfortableness of it all, because I’ve not considered this life-altering topic: a family. Now, I always envisioned myself with a partner I’d grow old with—whether we got married or not would depend on them. I’m not someone who has to get married.

Honestly, all I want is someone who can love and support me.

I find myself wondering if there should be kids in that same vision. Oof. Sweat beads on the bridge of my nose. This isn’t where I thought I’d be, mentally, while working this non-profit event. Luckily, I did most of the set up and now I’m responsible for getting candid pictures of the athletes.

Last but not least is Zack’s section. Currently, he’s showing a group of kids the correct stance prior to snapping the football. He’s turned it into a game—whoever stays up the longest wins. He runs around, in betweenthe kids, and he’s making them laugh with impressions and just casual Zack shenanigans.

He goes as far to take a pom from the dance team and is shaking it near their ears, trying to get them to fall from the tickle. That certainly seems like it should be against the rules.

Next, he’s showing how to block when it comes to punt returns. He acts like the offensive player, whoever is returning the kick, and the kid’s fake block him but he acts like the human version of a pinball.

Zack’s eyes catch mine, all alive and bright, clearly in his element. He fits so effortlessly in every situation I’ve seen him in. Doesn’t matter if it’s a bunch of ten-year-olds, a press conference, the general public, or a lackluster dinner with my family. My hand immediately goes to my heart, to feel my heartbeat, and this time it’s racing.

“Hey! Earth to EJ.” Zack is clapping and waving his hands, bringing me back to the moment. He’s always seeming to turn up when I need him.

“Sorry, what’s up?”

“Nothing, you just looked like you were on another planet, a really sad one. You good?”

No. I wouldn’t use the word good to describe myself. My anxiety has been rough the last few days. Intrusive thoughts pinched my brain last night, and again this morning, and I’m mentally exhausted.

“All good,” I lie as I look at my watch. The event is about over; time to take the group photos.

“You still need a ride home, right?” Zack asks, placing a hand on my lower back just for the briefest of seconds as we walk toward the group of kids being wrangled for the photo. Those hands. His fingers. I wish his hands were all over me and we weren’t at a children’s event.

I nod, my head feeling like it’s full of thick clouds, because I have no idea what my voice would sound like at this moment.

“Good thing the stadiumhad the roof on today,” Zack says as we exit the stadium.

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