noise and distraction went out of her head as Reese opened her eyes, ran for the ball, and kicked.
The ball spun, shooting through the air like a top, and all of Reese’s attention went to that brown blur flying free from her kick. She could hear nothing but the crickets chirping around her and the thudding of her own heart as she held her breath, waiting and watching. The ball sailed through the uprights dead center—a perfect kick.
The assembly of onlookers didn’t react. Not immediately. The hush was deafening in its own way, and Reese repressed the smile she could feel bubbling against her lips. The silence went on around her, keeping everything from her but the low, amused whistle Wilkens released, and the barked “Shit, yes!” she heard her father swear from across the field.
That quiet lasted all of ten seconds, as if what the team—and Mills especially—had seen was some glitch of reality. There had been no way a woman could land that kick. And, by how Mills grunted, nodding his head back toward the 35-yard line, Reese figured he was out to prove her performance had been lucky.
“Wilkens. Thirty-five. Let’s see if she…”
“She,” Reese interrupted, grabbing the coach’s attention with a sharp bite in her tone, “has a name and is on this team. Got a shiny new contract and everything.” She caught the ball when Mills threw it to Wilkens and tucked it under her elbow, shooting a look to the sidelines and right at the general manager and head coach before she returned her attention to Mills. “Why do thirty-five? Why not forty? Goal is ten yards past the uprights, si? So, from the forty and that would be a 50-yard kick.”
Mills’ grin came slow, sliding across his mouth like the Grinch plotting to rob Whoville blind. It was a reaction Reese expected, but it never failed to piss her off.
Let him doubt me, she thought, tossing the ball back to Wilkens as she walked past the thirty-five, then 40-yard line. Let them all doubt me.
“You don’t have anything to prove,” Wilkens said, running next to her, and Reese laughed, unable to repress her humor as the tall man stood at her side.
“I have everything to prove,” she told him, nodding for him to take a knee on the field.
On the sidelines and in the bleachers, the crowd and her teammates continued with their bustle of conversation, most becoming loud promises that Reese would embarrass herself. Gia watched, arms folded, as Reese stopped at the 40-yard line.
Wilkens hesitated, looking like he thought she might change her mind, but she shook her head, a silent command for him to trust her.
“Good luck,” the man offered, glancing from the uprights, to the ground, then up at Reese. “You’re gonna need it.”
She let the comment go, not bothering to be upset by something she’d heard her entire life. The doubters. The naysayers, the general haters who wanted her to fail, they’d all told her the same thing. This would be too hard. This would be too much for the league or the fans to handle, they’d promised, but Reese figured if she could do it, if she could survive the bullshit they’d send her way, then all her effort would be worthwhile.
Even if that meant landing on the same team as the only man she’d ever loved.
The sidelines had taken on another silence, and the hum of it overpowered the low catcalls she heard from the crowd. In front of her, the field was verdant and lush. The white paint was new, the large steamboat logo freshly inked on the grass, waiting for her to try another kick.
In the middle of it all, she felt him. He broke free from the activity around her. Years, it had been. So much time. So much life lived out of his reach, just like he’d wanted. Reese didn’t even have to look his way. She just knew. It was him. A hundred feet from her, there Ryder stood next to Ricks on the sidelines. She made out the shape of him as he watched her, fingers tucked into the front of his shoulder pads, feet spread apart like the rest of his teammates, all worn and sweaty from their practice. She tried not to glance his way. She tried to remind herself he was just a man, another player she’d have to learn to work with. Another doubter expecting her to fail.
Sweat collected and dripped from her neck, trickling down her