Page 94 of Penalty Kick

“I’ve spent a lot of months watching the team from afar, and I see more than people think. Dash has only had eyes for you since the second you walked in the door. He might have been someone different before then, but I can tell you from experience that when the right woman walks into your life, she changes everything.” Dalton looked over his shoulder at Zara, who was sitting with Lulu, trying to look at her phone. There was no mistaking the emotion written all over his face—love. Turning back to Talia, the look was still there, making her swoon. “You just have to decide if he’s worth it. You never know what life is going to throw at you or what ghosts might pop up from the past. But loving someone means holding their hand and walking alongside them through it.”

Guilt started to nibble away at Talia. She loved Dash, of that she had no doubt. But she also hadn’t hesitated to walk away the second there was trouble. When she should have stayed and defended him. That wasn’t fair to him, not after he’d opened up to her. And he had. He’d shared so much, bared his soul to her. And she had walked away.

She was an idiot.

“He’s worth it,” she said.

“Anyone who is willing to stand up to Gunnar, I’d have to agree.”

“But how do I make it right? I just walked away from him, accusing him of lying to me, when really I should have been defending him. I didn’t even stop to think.”

“Thinking doesn’t come into play when you’re emotional. We men know that about you women. He’ll forgive you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.” He smirked. “And I’m very rarely wrong.”

Talia rolled her eyes playfully at his cockiness. She appreciated his confidence in the matter, but that still didn’t help her figure out how to fix this.

“Then tell me, wise one,” she sassed back. “What next?”

Dalton's smile turned devilish. Placing his arm around her shoulders, he turned her around, walking her back to the group.

“Well, grasshopper, you have come to the right place. Because I am a man who knows how to make a plan come together.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

When the ref’s whistle sounded, Dash instinctively looked over to the sideline, not surprised in any way to see his number lit up on the fourth official's board, signaling he was being subbed out. In fact, he was surprised Gunnar had left him in for this long.

He’d played like shit for the last sixty-five minutes. There was no other way to say it. Hell, he’d played like shit all week. He’d missed more shots in practice than he had the entire rest of his career combined. It was pathetic. Gunnar’s including him in the starting lineup had been a complete shock—considering not only how poorly he’d been playing, but the fact that Gunnar hadn’t spoken a single word to him since the weight room.

Dash couldn’t blame him. Nothing about that day went down the way he wanted it to. It was easily one of the worst days of his life, and that was saying a lot given what his father had been like. But Dash would have gladly taken all the abuse from his father all over again if it meant not seeing the pain in Talia’s eyes. The pain that he had caused.

The news that Theo had uncovered the scandal, exposing not only Frisky von Horne but the Landing Strip itself, had been some consolation. As was knowing that he was not the only guy out there to have been exploited like this. It was a shitty club to be a part of, but at least he wasn’t alone. Knowing why he couldn’t remember that night made him feel less crazy—it just didn’t do much to solve the rest of the hurt.

Slowly making his way off the pitch, he low-fived all his teammates, letting their words of encouragement fade into the noise of the crowd. His story hadn’t remained a secret long—not with Theo waiting for him first thing Monday morning when they all arrived for practice, waiting for an interview. Cowboy had given him the news the night before, letting him know that she would be hyped up like a little kid who’d had too much sugar. The description hadn’t been far off—Theo was the most excited he’d ever seen her, and she’d witnessed them win the Fremont Cup.

The rest of the team had been incredibly supportive, not hesitating to give their own sound bites about what a great guy he was and how it will be nice to see justice come to those who deserve it. He was glad they had his back. Now if someone could please just tell Talia.

“Eight leans a bit to his right when he’s on the ball,” Dash said to Beau, bumping fists with him, tagging him into the game. “Stay on his left as much as you can.”

“Got it,” Beau replied, taking off to continue the game.

Reminding himself to hold his head up high, Dash looked over at Gunnar and Cowboy, who were standing in front of the plush leather seats that made up the “bench.” Gunnar nodded at him curtly, not even bothering to acknowledge him more than that. Dash would have thought that he’d at least earned a grunt, but apparently not. Cowboy slapped him on the back, his usual “attaboy” gesture, but also didn’t offer anything additional. Again, Dash couldn’t blame them. They were her family. It didn’t matter how many news stories came out proving that he didn’t do something, they were going to take her side. Which they should—that was what family was for.

He just couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last. Gunnar would have to talk to him eventually. Right?

Talia on the other hand, didn’t. She could stay mad at him for the rest of time. Knowing how stubborn she could be, she probably would. After all, she was her father’s daughter.

More than anything, Dash wanted to be mad at her. Be able to hold it against her that she had believed a stripper over him. But he couldn’t. Because that had been his own failing too. He knew he wasn't that guy, and he’d tried so hard to prove it to her. To show her that he was everything she wanted—needed—and more. He hadn’t succeeded though. Maybe if he’d had more time he could have cemented it in her mind that he was her person. That she was his. There was no one else for him.

They’d run out of time though. And all it had taken to break what had been between them was one poor life decision rearing its ugly head. Oh, and photographic evidence.

No, he couldn’t be mad at her. He couldn’t even say that he wouldn't have done the same in her position. Knowing that only made his wounds ache even more though, wishing there was something he could do. There probably wasn’t enough groveling or begging in the world that would make her listen. And he didn’t dare show up someplace uninvited. Liam had already told him that Talia was barely speaking to him. If she wasn’t going to talk to the guy who was like her brother, Dash knew he had very little hope.

“Give her a few days,” Cowboy had told him when he dared ask if she was coming to the game today. For a split second he’d thought that knowing she was in the stands would make him feel better. Put the pep back in his step that had been missing all week. Cowboy’s lack of an answer hadn’t done either of those things. “It’ll all be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”

Not the end, my ass…