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Silence stretches between us, as impenetrable and thick as the dark woods surrounding us.
“How was your Thanksgiving?” I finally ask.
Wes lets out a short laugh. “Not great. Yours?”
“Quiet. Liam’s not talking to me.”
“He was calmer than I expected. At that party.”
I sigh. “I told him about us. Or that there used to be an us. After you showed up at practice. I knew there would be rumors, and I thought it would be better if he heard it from me.”
Wes doesn’t say anything at first. “It’s always going to be there between us, Maeve. This stupid fucking rivalry. I’ll always be from Alleghany, and you’ll always be from Glenmont. Your brother will always resent me. Your father will never like me. Our friends will never get along. We live fifteen minutes apart, but it might as well be fifteen thousand miles. We were fooling ourselves, thinking this could ever work. I’m sick of sneaking around. I’m sick of wondering if I should tell you something. I’m sick of lying to my friends about where I’ve been.”
Tears begin sliding down my cheeks, and I hope it’s dark enough he can’t tell. Because he’s saying we’re—I’m—not worth it.
And I thought we were.
I think he is.
I want to throw his past words back at him. Tell him he shouldn’t allow other people’s opinions to define us. Call him a coward again.
But I’m so tired of fighting. Fighting and losing.
I stand and brush the damp forest debris off my leggings. “Good luck tomorrow, Wes.” I mean it. I don’t want Alleghany to win, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wish Wes won’t.
I turn to make the trek back to my car.
“What did he say?”
“Huh?” I glance back at Wes, but he’s still staring straight ahead.
“Liam. When you told him about us.”
I’m brutally honest; I’ve got nothing left to lose now. “He was surprised. That you’d commit—to me. That you’d even care Matt kissed me. I told him he doesn’t know anything about you. And then he asked what you’d told me about the Eagles. And I told him you’ve never asked me the same thing about the Stallions.”
Wes says nothing in response. I turn to go again.
“You know, this wasn’t just your problem, Wes. You kissing me didn’t exactly make my life easier. But I’m still glad you did.”
This time, I leave him sitting on the same mossy log where we first spoke two and a half years ago.
We’ve come full circle.
The following morning, Liam and I are eating our breakfast at the table silently when my father enters the dining room.
“I’ve got Crawford, Peters, and Williams coming in early to watch some extra footage, Liam. Finish up eating, I came up with a new play last night I want to run through.”
Liam nods, dutifully scooping up the last of his eggs.
“Why aren’t you coming to my game, Dad?” I don’t realize I actually said the words out loud until he and Liam both look over at me.
“What?” my father asks, looking startled.
“I asked why you aren’t coming to my game,” I repeat.
“We’re reviewing film,” my father replies. “We’re playing Alleghany tonight, Maeve. You know how important this is.”
“Yes, I do,” I acknowledge. “But you don’t seem to get how important soccer is to me. You’ve spent every waking moment for the past few months preparing for this game, but you can’t spare two hours to come to my last high school soccer game?”
