Page 15 of Offside Rule

I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what to say. She had a daughter? How old was she? Where was her dad?

She laughed ironically. “I realize I wasn’t there for her.” Her eyes met mine in a sharp, cutting way, but it wasn’t directed at me. It was directed at herself. “Do you know I missed her first steps? The first time she talked? Yet she still loves me, and cries every single time I’m away. She doesn’t remember all of that, but I do. I remember.” She shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. I stretched out my hand, wanting to wipe it away, but she drew back. “When she was born … after her father died, I couldn’t even hold her. She looked so much like him it pained me. But then she smiled, and I realized it was us against the world. Still, I found myself crying for unconsciously resenting her for being the perfect copy of Enzo. What kind of mother does that, Xavier?”

The question took me by surprise, but somehow the answer sat on the tip of my tongue. “The kind of mother whose husband died while she was pregnant. The kind of mother who went through birth alone. And the kind of mother who was still mourning when a crying, helpless newborn was put into her arms.” Her tears ran down her cheeks to her chin. I placed a palm under her ear, my thumb caressing the corner of her eye. “Resenting her doesn’t make you a bad mother. Realizing that what you were doing was wrong while you were still suffering makes you a great mother. You tried to be a mom and a dad at the same time, and that’s not an easy thing to do.” I paused and took a deep breath, because what I was about to say wasn’t easy to talk about. “When my dad left us, my mother couldn’t even look at me. I didn’t hate her, I wasn’t upset with her, I just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t grieving the way I was. She didn’t cry, she didn’t look at his old photos, she didn’t smell his clothes like I did. But then, just like you did, she realized that what she was doing was wrong. I don’t know how old your daughter is, but it’s never too late.”

She swallowed and nodded, lost in her inner thoughts. “You seem like you have enough on your plate,” Arianna said suddenly, and didn’t give me the chance to contradict her before she got to her feet and spoke again. “Thank you for this beautiful day, Xavier, but we can’t do this again. Don’t waste your most beautiful years by complicating your life with someone like me.” A barely visible smile rose on her lips. “Goodbye, Xavier,” she whispered, then leaned down to place a kiss on my cheek before leaving me to stare at her back as she walked away from me.

ELEVEN

XAVIER

Ihadn’t gone after her. Not because I hadn’t wanted to, but because she had seemed so convinced and determined about her choice. I’d known I hadn’t stood a chance trying to make her change her mind, even if I’d gotten down on my knees and begged her to stay.

After she’d left, it had taken me less than five minutes to get her phone number. Vane’s aunt worked higher up, and could get it for me before I could blink twice. My gut had screamed at me to text her right away, but my rational mind had begged me to wait a few more days.

So I had.

Three days later, my fingers moved over the screen with unease in my hotel room. I knew what I wanted to say, but hoped it wouldn’t distance her even more. I bit my bottom lip, contemplating how to put into words what I felt.

Me: You didn’t give me a chance to answer, and maybe it was because you didn’t think I deserved it, since I’m a stranger. Truth is, I’m not afraid of complications, Arianna, not if that means having you.

I sucked in a deep breath, and threw my phone into my pocket after I stood up. This woman had occupied my mind sincethe first moment I’d met her. And if that wasn’t a sign, I didn’t know what the hell it was.

It was the sixth day that Arianna hadn’t answered my text. I knew she’d seen it—thirty minutes after I sent it, actually. My instinct told me to push some more and insist until she replied, but then I didn’t know what was happening, and didn’t want to add more stress. Maybe her daughter was still not feeling well, and if the last thing on her mind to do was to text me, I understood.

“You coming?” I asked Isaac, who was behind me.

“Yeah. Just a moment,” he said shortly, a trace of suspicion in his voice. “Xavier,” Isaac stopped me as soon as we stepped foot inside the stadium.

I turned around, raising my eyebrows. “What?”

He sighed, dropping his shoulders. “Why are you doing this? Did my dad make you?”

I wasn’t surprised that he was questioning why I was training him when I’d been nothing but rude to him until now. I stepped closer, my eyes softening. “No, I was the one who went to talk to your dad about this training.”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. He had every reason to think I wasn’t being genuine.

My jaw clenched as I glanced at the ground. Usually I showed people I was sorry through my actions, so the words didn’t roll easily off my tongue. “Because I wronged you even when I could see how hard you were struggling to make Alejandro proud. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you the way I did, Isaac.”

As soon as the words had left my mouth, the weight on my chest lifted.

His smile nearly reached his ears, and a small laugh escaped. “For what it's worth, I wish my dad would give you the credit and attention you deserve. I don’t like being a captain, and I don’t deserve to be one. Maybe one day I will—when he’s no longer going to breathe down my neck every time I’m on the field. It’s just … I'd like to make him proud for once, you know?”

My teeth clenched. At that moment, I figured it was better not to have a dad than to be in Isaac’s shoes. Sure, he’s been doing well on the field so far, but only because Alejandro has been pushing him to his limits, when it was clear he couldn’t handle everything.

Maybe he wasn’t made for this type of life, or maybe he needed someone else who wasn’t his father to train him. That’s why I was here today.

“Come on,” I told him, and clapped him on the back.

We started our warm-up, and soon enough, we were wrapped up in the game. Football had been everything I’d known since I was little. Sure, it was thanks to Alejandro, because he’d tried to fill my father’s shoes in one way or another—but we’d never truly liked each other. He had seen something in me, and I had known he would be the one to help me get where I’d wanted to go. But unlike Isaac, I didn’t want to make Alejandro proud; I didn’t have that weight on my shoulders.

When I had started out, all that had been on my mind was to be on every TV, in every article, and across every newspaper possible. I had wanted my dad to see what he’d lost. Somewhere along the way, football had become my healing moment.

“Why are you hesitating? Shoot,” I shouted, while taking a position in front of the goal.

He clenched his jaw before attempting a goal on my right, which I defended without blinking. I took the ball and approached him.

“You don’t have to shoot as soon as you see the net, but you also shouldn’t hesitate when you have the chance to score.” I placed myself behind him and put the ball at my feet. “The first thing you have to do is locate an opening. Once you do that, instead of wondering if you’re going to miss or finally get to score, think abouthowto score. Do I pass the ball to someone else? Nutmeg the player in front of me? Shoot to the upper left side of the gate?” I continued. “You have to analyze every option and see which one is the best, but you only have a matter of seconds before someone can steal the ball. You must think as you attack. Got it?” I asked him.

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