Page 69 of Stealing for Keeps
Outside, we walk down the sidewalk silently toward his Jeep. It’s windy out and overcast. I pull my sleeves down to cover my hands and wish I’d brought a jacket.
“Here.” Austin pulls off his sweatshirt. His dark hair sticks up as he holds out the wad of black material to me.
“I’m all right,” I say.
“Take it,” he says. “That way, I won’t feel bad about making one more stop before I take you home.”
That stop ends up being Wyatt’s soccer practice.
“I promised him I’d stop by and watch him in action,” Austin says as we walk across the field to where kids are taking turns kicking balls toward the net.
My smile loosens as his brother spots us. He waves with his whole body, hand shot up high over his head, waving back and forth, stretching him up on his tiptoes.
Austin and I wave back in unison and then take a seat on a metal bleacher. A few parents are set up nearby with lawn chairs, and smaller kids run around the sidelines.
We watch quietly, only commenting on Wyatt and the other kids for a while. They’re pretty cute. The skill level is all over the place, as is their ability to focus.
Austin waits until I’m too enthralled by their adorable, chaotic cuteness to say, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I ask, everything except this moment temporarily forgotten.
“For forcing you out to celebrate. I wasn’t thinking. You told me you were done with skating, but I didn’t really understand until back there. It was everything for you.”
“You mean you didn’t understand that I can’t do the one thing I want to do more than anything?” I ask softly. “My only ‘I can’t wait to get off this boot and’ is skating.”
He’s quiet again, and I appreciate that he doesn’t try to fill the silence just to make me feel better. Not that it’d work anyway. I hate the saying “it is what it is,” but it feels very appropriate in this instance.
I’m the first to speak again.
“It’s not just that I can’t skate,” I say. “That part does suck, of course, but the other thing is, I don’t have any other hobbies. I don’t have any other ‘I can’t wait to get off this boot ands.’ Aside from skating, my only other interest is hanging out with friends. I didn’t realize before now howbusy they all are. Lacey and Andie have cheer every day and lots of other hobbies on top of it, and I’m just sitting around waiting for everyone to be free so they can hang out.”
“Yeah, I get that. I don’t have a whole lot else except soccer.”
“Isn’t it funny how at such a young age, we’re forced to choose between all the things we enjoy for the few things we’re good at? Sports teams are competitive, which I get, but what if you really loved soccer and weren’t any good at it? Do you have to give it up?”
“Most people probably do,” he says.
“Why?”
“I think at some point it stops being fun when you realize the people around you are better at it.”
“But you can’t get better unless you keep doing it.”
He grins. “You’re not wrong.”
“I get what you mean though,” I say. “It’s why I haven’t joined anything new. I’ll be the worst at whatever it is.”
“And that bothers you?”
“It’d definitely bother my mother.” I dip my head into the neck of his sweatshirt. His scent wraps around me, making me as warm as the material. “What about you? Are there other things you would want to do if you couldn’t do soccer?”
He thinks for a moment, and silly as it may be, I’m thankful that he doesn’t give me some bullshit answer to appease me. “I hope so, but I’m not sure if there’s anything else out there that would feel the same.”
“You love it,” I say, knowing exactly how he feels.
One side of his mouth inches up, and those green eyes spark. “I’d play soccer all day, every day. By myself, with toddlers, in the snow, even if there wasn’t a winner or a future in it.”
The last part is hard for me to wrap my head around. My parents, my mom specifically, have always drilled into me that winning is important. Whatever you choose to do, do it all out. Be the best.
