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Will half-smiles in response, but it collapses quickly.
We’ve texted back and forth in the week he’s been gone, but he never mentioned a return date or told me when he was flying back here.
Will drops his bag on the floor, runs a hand through his hair, and then turns to face me. Apprehension rushes through me in response to his serious expression, joining the warmth that accompanies the realization that he came straight here from the airport.
“You packed light.” I nod toward the bag, which is sagging flat now that it’s off his shoulder.
“I didn’t pack at all. Brought this back from my mom’s. Some old stuff I forgot I had.”
“How’s Tripp?”
Last Will told me, his brother was awake, but the doctors were still running lots of tests to determine the full extent of his injuries.
“He’s…he’s alive, which is the most important thing. But, uh, he’ll never walk again.” He looks away, out the window. Toward Boston maybe. “So, uh, I don’t even know if I’ve processed that yet. The whole time I was there, I was trying to pretend things were okay. It’s hitting me more now that I don’t have to worry what he’s seeing on my face. He’ll have to relearn how to live his whole life.”
I suck in a deep breath. I figured it was bad. If Tripp’s injuries had been minor, Will would have come back sooner. But I had no idea it was that serious. That permanent.
“Do you want a hug?” I ask. It’s the only thing I can think to offer him.
Will looks at me, one corner of his mouth curving up a tiny bit. “Yeah. A hug sounds great.”
I step into him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. He smells like fast food and exhaust fumes. But beneath it…Will. Grass and laundry detergent.
His grip on me is just as tight as mine is on him. Tighter maybe, fusing our bodies so closely together that you couldn’t slip a piece of paper between us.
“I’m so sorry about your brother,” I whisper.
“Thanks.”
“Is there…is there anything I can do?”
“You’re doing it,” he tells me.
I relax into him even more.
I’m glad he went home. Glad he saw his mom and was there for his brother. But I’m so, so happy he’s back. I didn’t realize how many cracks in my life he’d filled, until they all reappeared in his absence.
“I missed you,” I whisper.
I feel his chest heave with an exhale before he pulls back just enough to look at me.
“I’ve been fighting this—us—because I’m concerned about the future. My future in soccer—I mean, football.”
I can’t even muster a proud smile when he self-corrects. I’m too caught up in what he’s saying, where this could possibly be going.
“Your future with another guy, someone who would be a hell of a lot better for you than I am. And I realized…” He swallows. “I realized, when I was sitting in a hospital in Boston, that worrying about the future assumes there will be a future. I’ve done a lot of things I regret, Sophia. But I know—I know—that fighting this will be my biggest one. So…I want you to know that I’m in. I’m all in with this thing between us.”
There are questions I could ask him in response. If he’s still planning to return to the States after this season ends if an American team wants to sign him. If he’s okay with telling my brother about us, knowing it could affect his relationship with his teammates. If his brother’s injury means he wants to leave here even more.
But those are all external forces, some of which neither of us has any control over.
What I have complete control over is my feelings for him. Telling him what those feelings are.
“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”
He tilts his head, his expression a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Pretty sure?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure. I’ve never been in love with anyone before, so I’m not totally sure what it feels like. But this…” My voice lowers, turning into a whisper. I’ve been vulnerable in front of Will many times. Sharing this with him is stripping myself bare.
