So why was it so… bittersweet?
Why wasn’t I jumping up and down celebrating?
I should be excited.
But I wasn’t.
twenty-five
Cara
It was dark when we pulled into the hotel after hours of being at the Adelaide Adrenaline stadium doing a fan meet-and-greet. Low clouds hung in the sky and rain pelted down, soaking us through as we made a run for it from the stadium to the bus. The umbrellas we’d been handed were useless against the deluge.
Lights reflected off the wet surface, brightening the halo around them. It only intensified the desire to close my eyes and block out the world. I hadn’t missed the way Alec powered down his phone after he’d read the message from his agent, and I was freaking out for him.
He hadn’t said a word about either his conversation with Minns or the message. Was he being traded? Was his contract being terminated? How bad were things going to be for him? I wanted to be there for him, but I had no idea how.
My neck was stiff and my jaw was tight by the time we’d ridden the lift up to my room. My fingers were itching for me to sit down and let the angst riding me pour onto the page. But I couldn’t. I needed to figure this out. I needed to be there for Alec—the clockwas ticking down to hours now, not days. I was fast running out of time, and I needed to show him with what little we had left that I wasn’t running away.
There was so much that I wanted and needed, but I didn’t have a right to any of it. How did I ask him to share his burden with us when we wouldn’t be there to help him through it?
I needed sleep, too, but I didn’t want to close my eyes and miss a second of what we had left.
I scanned my keycard and pushed through into the suite. Dad had upgraded me in every one of the hotels we’d stayed at, guilt no doubt motivating him. I hadn’t spoken with him or Mum since that morning at Brisbane Airport. I missed them. But I’d be back on the Coast soon enough.
Monroe and Alec followed me in, and one of them closed the door gently. I dropped my coat over the back of the couch and stared out the window blurred by the rain slicking the surface
“So…,” I started but then hesitated. I didn’t know what I wanted to say. My words died, and an awkward silence was left in their wake. I turned to look at them and licked my lips, trying to wet my suddenly parched mouth.
“Do you mind if I take a shower?” Roe asked and pivoted away.
“Wait,” Alec said and dropped his bags to the floor. He walked over to the coffee table and sat on it, then patted the small sofa in front of him. “Can we talk?”
I shot my gaze to Monroe, who’d paused midstep. He turned slowly, and his pensive eyes met mine.
I swallowed.
Without a word, I went to Alec and sat down, hoping that Monroe would follow. I clasped my hands, interlacing my fingers and squeezing them until my knuckles turned white. Time stretched to infinity. The seconds that ticked by as Monroe made his decision slowed to centuries.
Alec clasped my hand, his warmth seeping into me, and air filled my lungs. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath.
Monroe sank onto the seat next to me, and I sagged in relief, leaning into him for a moment. He slid his hand onto my knee, and I sucked in a shuddery breath. This felt momentous. We could retreat into ourselves, or we could choose each other, even if it was only for a few more hours—and we’d done the latter.
Alec unlocked his phone and turned it around so we could read the screen.
“I got sent a new contract,” he said slowly, his words measured and quiet.
My breath caught, and my heart hammered in my chest. The lump in my throat made it impossible to swallow.
“The Seals offered me another three years. They didn’t trade me,” he whispered.
I blinked and looked up at him. A smile spread across my face without any conscious thought on my part. He was staying with the team. They’d stuck by him.
I squealed and threw myself forward, colliding with him as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Jiminy Cricket, that’s incredible!”
He held me close, and I breathed him in, his now familiar scent a comfort. How could I be happy—no,ecstatic—and sad at the same time? My eyes burned, and I squeezed them closed, willing my tears not to fall. He was staying in San Diego. His coach and the team had stood by him. They’d picked him.
It was the best outcome we could have hoped for. But the weight of sadness that had descended on me was backbreaking. His success was another reminder that he had a life on the other side of the world, far away from us, and he was about to head home to live it.
