Looking down at my daughter, I can’t help but smile. Her blonde hair is tied up in tiny pigtails and we’re wearing matching HART 15 jerseys. Our whole section is.
Because no one was willing to miss this game.
So we’d secured tickets for all of us—Montana, Ellison, Bodhi, Archer, Bea, Mason, Lana and her kids, my parents, Grandad and Celeste, Cal, and Miss Thelma—who’d given TSAan earful for bein’handsywith a lady of her age. That last snippet had almost made us miss our flight.
But we’d made it. And so did the Blackstone University women’s club soccer team who’d received a large anonymous donation in the way of tickets for the game. They cheered behind us, faces painted and signs held high, yelling and cheering for Nessa and the rest of the Tornadoes.
We’d scored once in the first half, the ball gracing the top left corner of the net, just out of reach of the goalie. Nessa and the other defenders had kept the score at 1-0 with only minutes to spare.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I take it out to see a text from Indie that I swipe open quickly.
INDIE: OMG did you see that?? She is dominating right now!
JENSEN: This is the best game of her life
INDIE: I bet it’ll get even better after it’s over
Smiling,I tuck my phone back into my pocket, as Nessa steals the ball and kicks it up the field to another player, who passes it to Kinsley who races toward the goal. Mama grips my arm, everyone cheering as Kinsley fakes to the left, maneuvering the ball behind her and rocketing it into the goal.
The crowd goes absolutely wild, the noise deafening, and I’m happy that Remi tolerates her headphones for this exact reason. Mason whistles at the end of the row, earning a couple of catcalls from the college girls. He winks and they giggle but he turns back around, his heart very much taken.
Nessa races up the field as Kinsley points at her, the two of them colliding as they jump and hug, their teammates gathering around them as the clock winds down to nothing.
They did it.
She did it.
And now, it’s showtime.
NESSA
We did it.
Everyone is screaming and crying and it’s everything I imagined. Coach Turner had planted the seed, Coach Arsenault helped it grow, but we’d worked our asses off to be here and I know they worked hard forme.
Tears flow freely down my face as I shake hands and hug the opposing team—it’d been like this after every game. These women I’d seen and played against for years had wished me well in the next chapter of my life, thanked me for the bar I’d set on the field and the example I’d made in the league.
I’d been humbled over and over by their kind words and encouragement. The only one who’d been notably absent after we played them had been Maria Cardova and honestly, that was fine. She’d gotten herself into enough hot water throughout the season to keep her quiet online as the championship approached.
Turning toward the crowd, I wave, my eyes landing on Jensen and Remi before my hands fly up to cover my face as the university’s soccer team waves their signs and cheers.
“Let’s give a round of applause for the coach of our champions, the Tennessee Tornadoes, Coach Arsenault!”
The stadium goes wild, as Stella Arsenault goes and stands behind the podium, her ponytail still miraculously in place despite the workout she gave it as she was stomping up and down the sidelines.
Kinsley wraps her arm around my shoulder, and I lean my head against hers as my arm wraps around her waist.
This is the last time you’ll be here together.
My hand fists her shirt as I sob into her shoulder, her arms coming around me as the finality of this day settles over me.
“Gotta listen, babe,” Kinsley whispers as I hear Coach Arsenault say my name over the microphone.
“It’s only right that Nessa Hart would start and end her career with a championship win.” The crowd erupts again, and without releasing Kinsley, I raise my other hand and wave. “It’s been an honor to watch Nessa dominate the field. She’s a role model, a woman who’s worked tirelessly behind the scenes to inspire athletes of all levels. And it is my distinct pleasure to announce Miss Nessa Hart as this year’s MVP!”
“Get your ass up there,” Kinsley squeals as she hugs me again. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
Jogging through the crowd on the field, I join Coach Arsenault on the stage and we do the obligatory turn and pose for photos.
