Page 117 of Back to Willow

“That’s what Mum keeps saying,” he snickers.

“If so, then she probably has a good reason for it. I’m sure that when the time is right, she’ll introduce you to him or at least let you know who he is,” I try, not knowing if my words are right. “Until then, you can’t stop doing what you love. But if you don’t want to enrol–”

“No,” he cuts me off. “I do.”

“And are you willing to be going with me instead?”

“I guess,” he shrugs. “I just hope my dad doesn’t get mad that I did it without him.”

“Oh, believe me.” I smile. “He’ll understand just fine.”

“That was awesome, bud,” I holler to Dylan as he runs down the field after scoring a goal.

My whole body is simmering with the pride travelling through my nerve endings. He’s pretty good and has excellent control over the ball. He still needs to learn when to pass it on or take the shot, but he’s barely six years old. I reckon he has time to improve.

He could very well be the next Ronaldo. I feel the smile on my face as the fleeting thought crosses my mind.

The try-out goes on for ten more minutes, and right afterwards, I meet the coach as he’s inside, getting ready to head back out.

“The kid’s good,” he comments nonchalantly.

They never like to sound too enthusiastic.

“And has great potential,” I add. “I hope he can join the team?”

“He sure should. Here,” he says, handing me a bunch of paperwork. “Bring this back by Tuesday at the latest, right before the next practice.”

“No problem.” I nod, eyeing the papers.

It requires the parent’s permission signature, as well as a monthly payment of fifty euros. It’s not much, but I know that amount doesn’t have the same meaning to me as it has for Willow.

Even though she didn’t seem concerned about it being an extra expense, it’s not lost on me that she needs to work on top of studying. I’ll pay for this myself—let’s just hope she’s okay with it.

“I hope to see you both next week.” The coach waves as he heads back out to the field.

Just then, I see Dylan emerging from the gate, excitedly waving at me. He runs up as I walk in his direction, and as soon as he’s within reach, he hugs me. My hand finds his head, gently threading my long fingers through the brown mop of wild, wet hair.

“You showered? By yourself?” I ask.

“No,” he grunts. “I just put some water on my head; I was hot.”

I nod. “You play way better than I could’ve ever imagined!” The praise rolls off my mouth naturally.

With a massive smile, he pushes away, holding my hand instead. “You think they will let me play more?”

We start to walk out. Our pace is slow as the little energy I had is slowly slipping away from me—from him, too, it seems. The tiredness is now taking a new kind of control over my body, making it feel slightly heavier.

“They’d be crazy not to. And besides…” He peers up at me. “I got the papers to enrol you right here. All we need is Mum’s approval.”

“Yes!” He jumps in excitement. “We need to go home and ask her to agree!”

Just then, my stomach growls, stopping the both of us in our tracks. It’s been hours since the meal break I had in my shift, and it’s taking a toll on me. We burst out laughing at the exact moment his stomach growls, too, as if in tune with mine.

“She’ll agree for sure.” I chuckle. “How about we go eat something and buy her a gift? I’m sure she’ll love that we thought of her today.”

That and it will hopefully gain me a couple of points with her.

With an eager nod, he pulls my hand in my car’s direction before walking towards it.

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