Page 106 of Gloves Off

“Which one of us do you want in goal?” one of the goalies asks.

“Neither.” I point at where the rest of the team is lining up down the field. “You two get in line and take a shot.”

I’m a terrible goalie. Really fucking bad. About half of the balls sail right past me. I’m not built for speed or agility the way guys like Walker and Miller are. For ten minutes, though, I forget about my impending retirement, I forget about trying to help the rookie, I forget about my citizenship, and I just have fun.

It’s the strangest feeling.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I goad them. “Don’t go easy on me.”

“You suck at this!” they shout, wicked and gleeful like Georgia probably taught them. “You’re the worst goalie we’ve ever played against!”

“Excuses,” I yell back. “What’s the matter, are you tired or something? Trying to buy yourself time? Quit stalling.”

They’re laughing, kicking balls at me one by one. I can see why the doctor likes coaching. Watching the girls practice skills with determined expressions, watching them smile and high-five when they figure something out, it’s nice.

Rewarding, actually. I haven’t felt this way in a long time about anything. Being one of the better defensemen in the league was rewarding at first, until I got used to it.

“Wow,” one of them says when we bring it in and stretch. Talia, I think. “That was really sad.”

I lead them through a quad stretch. “Georgia didn’t tell me howmean you all were.” I don’t know why I’m playing around with them like this. This isn’t like me. “I hope you get back to playing on your regular teams, though. You girls are good.”

They smile at one another. “We know,” one of them says. Tasha? I think? “This was fun, though. You’re a good coach.”

“I’m not a coach.” A weird, pleasant pressure notches in my chest. “I’m just filling in for my wife.”

When I get home that night, the house is quiet. She’s probably still out at the work dinner. It smells like her, though. Sweet and spicy. Violets. That stupid pink penis crystal sparkles in the foyer, scattering light on the walls and ceiling. Her car keys sit in the bowl.

If her car is here, that means there’s something wrong with it again. Worry threads through me. It could break down while she’s driving. She could get stranded late at night.

It’s not safe. That’s why I care. Because it’s not safe. I don’t want her to get hurt.

And maybe I still feel the need to even the score between us. For two years, I was a complete fucking asshole to her over assumptions I had made. No wonder she can’t stand me. My gaze snags on her car keys again.

I know how to make it up to her.

CHAPTER 51

GEORGIA

A few mornings later,I’m on my way out the door when I find Alexei in the kitchen.

“Thanks for helping out at soccer the other night.” Between games and work, our schedules haven’t lined up since. “You were a big hit.”

He looks up, gaze lingering on me. “No problem.”

The girls had flooded our team chat, asking when he’d be back. Later, at home, the light was on in his room and I considered knocking and asking him how it went, but the prospect of seeing him lying in bed, shirtless, reading, wearing glasses again seemed too risky.

I wish I could get that image out of my head. I’ve made extra effort not to consume any game content or watch replays where I could see him getting hurt. With him actually acting like a decent person now, the last thing I need is to wake up in his bed again.

We’re not supposed to be messing around, I’m not going to tempt myself.

“Do you want an omelet?” he asks abruptly.

He wants to make me food? My heart thunks. “I have a meeting, I should get going.”

He makes a noise of acknowledgment, and glances behind me at the door to the garage. “Sure. Next time.”

“Next time.”

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