Page 95 of Faking Ties

When the clock runs out, we lose, 17–20. It’s bittersweet. I wish we could’ve pulled out the W, to celebrate what we accomplished on the field, but today, the other team was that much better, or luckier, than us.

Losing always sucks, but today’s loss doesn’t burn as bad as it normally does. For the first time, I don’t feel like sulking. I actually feel like it’s not that big of a deal that we lost. Is this how my teammates normally feel? This…unburdened?

Coach follows behind us and says, “D-Rock, Quincy, and Jake will be up for interviews today.”

I sag in relief. There’s no way I’d be able to handle another press conference so soon after Shanghai.

“Great job out there, Trey,” I say to him when I head to my locker. He saved Jake from getting tackled more times than I can count.

“You, too.”

“Thanks for saving our asses out there,” Jake says.

“You know what that means?” I ask, instead of bragging like how I’d usually do.

“That Jake needs to thank the writers ofTed Lasso?” Quincy chimes in.

I laugh. “Well, that and we might need aTed Lassomarathon now.”

“Shh, don’t give him any more ideas,” Trey groans.

“I’m with Trey,” Marcus says. “Next thing you know, Jake’ll come up with a new idea to torture us with.”

“I would never,” Jake says in mock offense.

We all laugh, and I say, “Surrrrre.”

“Interview time,” Coach calls out.

Jake, Quincy, and D-Rock quickly throw on the shirts Trey made and head out for their interview. I’m not sure if Coach approved the shirts or not, but a new media storm is about to start because of them.

When my phone buzzes with Dad’s usual text, a ping of dread goes through me. I’m feeling good, and when I read his messages… I don’t.

Dad: What the hell was that? Do you need some extra practice with the rookies?

Me: I’m proud of how I played.

Dad: What the hell are you talking about? You should be ashamed.

Me: No, you should be ashamed of how you only write to criticize me about how I play. I’m more than the game, you know.

Dad: I don’t criticize you. I help you.

Me: You do criticize me, and that’s not the kind of relationship I want with you.

Dad: If you can’t take feedback, then I don’t know what to tell you.

I shake my head.That’s exactly what I used to say and how I thought before I met Elodie. There’s no use in arguing over text with him, so I ignore his message and schedule a private plane to take me to New York.

On the way to the airport, I call Elodie, but her phone is off, and her voicemail picks up.

“Hey,” I say to her voicemail. “I’m going to get on a plane soon to New York to come to you. I don’t want to leave you alone to deal with everything yourself.” My body buzzes with the anticipation of seeing her again. “We lost today, but for the first time, I don’t care. I could leave the loss on the field, and it’s all because of you. I love you so fucking much, and I can’t wait to show you just how much when I see you soon.”

ELODIE

Ihave no idea what to expect when I rush into the penthouse, passing Kai with a nod. If I were Stella, I’d be a blubbering mess and needing Aria to hold my hand.

But instead, I find her dressed in a suit, talking intently with a fifty-something-year-old woman with brown curly hair and neon pink glasses.

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