Page 59 of Caught Looking

“Well at least we have a consensus. Owen Montgomery is a prick.” Had I missed something in those early days? Or was he just that good of an actor?

I was just so focused on my career. So busy. Our time together was limited. Exciting. He said he had to make the most of it so he showered me in romantic dates and gifts. He told me how beautiful I was. He was sweet.

But looking back, older and with more information, I could see the rough edges. The lines. He knew how to be romantic through years of practice. He knew exactly what made a woman swoon. Especially a busy woman whose attention was on other things.

It was a game.

At first the sex was good. Owen had a knack for foreplay. And in the early days he made sure he stayed focused through everything, but as we settled into a relationship he began to rush. He still focused on the foreplay, but once things were in motion it was all about him. Making sure we were both satisfied became less and less of a priority.

Then he started questioning my schedule, my version of events. He was a documentarian with an eye for details. His memory was better. He wanted more of my time because he loved me.

I had already started to pull away.

Then things got worse. And when I broke it off…he set out to punish me.

If I’d paid more attention in the beginning, would I have seen the warning signs and left before he decided I belonged to him? That he had some right to me? Or was Owen the kind of man who felt that way about every woman.

My stomach turned.

Then my phone buzzed. I flipped it over to find a picture that made me grin. Seth with his arm over a grumpy Rhett’s shoulders. I swiped it open to read the message.

He didn’t kill me. He actually HUGGED me. Details later. Miss you. x

I laughed out loud. Mercedes turned. “Everything okay?”

“Oh yes.” I showed her the picture. “My cousin doesn’t do hugs but he let Seth touch him. That’s about the biggest sign of approval I can get from Rhett Ryan.”

“Congratulations.”

I grinned through the entire pajama party and until I fell asleep that night.

* * *

What is it like to play soccer for a living? It sounds like the best job in the whole wide world. Do you have another job? Do you practice all day every day? Like run drills and stuff? I don’t like that part as much, but if that’s all I had to do instead of sitting at a computer doing boring stuff then I’d rather do drills.

I scanned through my messages,stuck on this one in particular. The thirteen-year-old had written so candidly, from her heart. She reminded me of myself. Back then I couldn’t imagine the path ahead. Only that I had to put one foot in front of the other.

Unlike Rhett, who knew exactly what the path to professional baseball looked like. Success or failure, the path was known. Not so much for women’s soccer. Plus, it was constantly evolving as the sport became more popular.

Documentaries like the one we were doing for the Tangerine’s would help lift the curtain a little. But there needed to be more.

It all happened on instinct. I snapped photos of the slumber party, walking Roscoe. I slipped in a few short videos. I included the walk into the practice facility and clips of the day.

Then on a wild whim I posted it to my social accounts with the caption:A Day in the life of Annalise Ryan.

“Holy shit,” Jeri murmured from the bench beside me. It had been another grueling practice and I was beat. Rhett’s pool called my name. “Your post is going viral.”

“What? I just posted it like an hour ago.” The most attention my posts had ever gotten were a few thousand views on TikTok and a couple dozen comments on Instagram.

She held up her phone. I blinked. Sixty thousand views and fifty comments? In an hour?

“You’re more famous than you realize. Especially now,” Jeri snickered.

I found my phone. It vibrated constantly as all the notifications poured in. “I just wanted to give people a look inside our lives. I got a letter from a girl with so many questions. I thought maybe sharing would be more helpful than a simple reply.”

My phone kept vibrating. I opened Instagram first, clicking on the post. Thousands of likes, comments pouring in. Most curious or kind. A few with “helpful tips” for me. I rolled my eyes and switched to TikTok.

The views had already jumped to eighty thousand and climbing. Comments were being answered by other commenters. Some wanted to know about Seth. Others pointed out that he was out of town. Some speculated that we’d already broken up. But most came from girls and women with questions about nutrition, practice schedules, and support.

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