Fall Into Love

by Melody Anne

  Joe laughed. “Yeah, watching that third goal sail right between his legs hurt worse than the tear in my wrist. You know, if your salary didn’t eat up most of our cap, we could afford a better backup goalie.”

  “You know my salary is the only thing keeping you from having a little healthy competition from some young, new phenomenon. Once I’m gone, you might actually have to start earning your spot.” Gabe and Joe had joined the Surge at the same time seven years ago, at the height of their careers. Now they were the old guys. The veterans.

  “If it’s my time to go, then so be it,” Joe said.

  “You can’t mean that.” Professional soccer was their life, the dreamed they’d worked toward from the moment they walked. It shocked Gabe to hear Joe, a man with twenty-three appearances for Team USA, talk so casually of quitting.

  “Don’t you get sick of the bruised shins, the swollen ankles, waking up the morning after a match feeling like you just got run over by a truck? I can barely get through a single day without popping a handful of ibuprofen anymore.”

  Gabe nodded, his eyes drawn toward Johnny, who was cracking jokes and trying to impress Tessa and her wide-eyed girlfriends. Luckily for Johnny, Tessa wasn’t swayed. Otherwise the kid would be castrated already. “I could do without showing up to practice two hours earlier than everyone else just to get my ankles taped up.”

  “Every night this week, I’ve woken up screaming with a cramp in my left calf.”

  “I’ve got Alex’s number programmed first on my speed dial. Before my ma, even.”

  “I want a woman to come home to every night, not an empty hotel room. It’s getting hard to appreciate all the nights on the road. Not sure how much longer I’ll last.”

  Gabe tipped his beer back, letting the smooth, fizzy liquid coat his throat. The image of Lainey in his bed every night flashed across his mind, but it was a pointless fantasy. She’d never want that. “We’re definitely getting old.”

  “I’d argue with you that it’s the lifestyle that’s getting old and not us, but watching Johnny doing handstands just took the wind out of my sails. I’d break my back if I tried that.” Sure enough, the kid had resorted to acrobatics in an attempt to be the center of attention. He was bouncing on his hands, body completely upright and a cob of corn stuck in his mouth. Tessa just rolled her eyes and tipped him over with one finger. Smart girl.

  Gabe let his gaze drift over to Lainey, who looked happily in her comfort zone in the company of her relatives, as he thought about Joe’s revelation. Sweet as his mama’s intentions were, seeing all thirty-four candles splayed out only reminded him that he was an overripe athlete facing the last year of his contract. But did he really believe he was ready to walk away from professional soccer? His passion for the sport burned just as strong as ever. The sweet, fresh smell of the grass when he walked on the field at the start of each match. The glorious rush he got every time he stripped the ball from a quick-footed opponent. The transcendental feeling when a play he initiated clicks, propelling his team forward to victory. None of that would ever get old. But all the other details? He had to admit his patience only grew thinner for convoluted contract negotiations and media-wanking as his number of years grew bigger.

  If he was being honest with himself, the Battle of the Sexes had rejuvenated his passion more than anything these last few weeks. Lainey was the breath of fresh air that made everything stale in his life feel new again.

  After the cake had been served, “Happy Birthday” had been sung, and almost all of Mama’s delicious barbecue food had been eaten, people started to drift off. Gabe had managed to get in at least a quick hello with almost everyone. He realized he still needed to thank Lainey’s aunt and uncle for coming when they stood up to leave. He walked quickly across the yard in their direction when he noticed Marnie discreetly slip a small envelope into Lainey’s hands.

  LAINEY LOOKED DOWN AT the pink envelope Aunt Marnie had just handed her, praying no one had witnessed the transaction.

  “I know you don’t like to celebrate, but we’re your family and we do. So take the card.” Aunt Marnie smiled that sweet smile of hers that said she’d accept no argument.

  With a kiss to her aunt’s cheek, Lainey slipped the envelope inside the front pocket of her favorite navy hoodie, grateful that the late spring weather allowed an outfit with good hiding spots. What kind of cruel joke from the universe was it to make her and Gabe share a birthday? Once he found out, he’d probably insist it was sign of fate or some other ridiculous crap like that.

  Her birthday always made her uncomfortable. The most anyone’s birthday was acknowledged on the farm was giving that person an extra slice of fresh homemade bread with his or her pot of slop for dinner. Every accolade, every ounce of praise in her life had been won by fighting tooth and nail. Having a celebration for something as mundane as being born, something she didn’t have to earn, made her feel like she was cheating.

  Yet, here she was watching a crowd of people share in Gabe’s festivities, and she was finally starting to understand what all the fuss was about. His birthday was a reason for everyone to get together, kick a ball around, and eat some sugar-and-fat-laden food. He was someone worth celebrating.

  God, it was amazing how far her opinion of him had come over the last few weeks. Seeing him so happy, surrounded by the people he loved, made her warm and tingly inside. She might have actually let herself genuinely enjoy the party if everyone and their dog hadn’t just witnessed Lainey grope Gabe’s butt. Once the media got wind that they were no longer archrivals, Lainey would forever be labeled as one of Gabe’s conquests. It sucked that, once again, something that felt so good was actually so very wrong for her.

  Lainey walked her aunt and uncle to the path leading out to the front of the house and gave them each a hug before returning to the party. She couldn’t help but think of the stark differences in their lives. His childhood home was filled with so much love and support. She wondered if she would’ve been as successful if she’d grown up in a home like this. Then again, maybe the struggle was what gave her the strength to climb her way to the top.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t notice Gabe pop around the corner of the house, startling her so much that she yelped. “What’s in your pocket?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Show me,” he insisted impishly.

  “Let’s go back to the party and eat some cake.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Now I know you’re trying to distract me from something good.” He pinched her butt through her jeans, causing her to yelp again.

  In her distraction, he managed to reach inside her hoodie and find the card.

  “Give that back!” She chased after him down the weatherworn path, ignoring the overhanging apple tree branches that smacked her face as she rushed by.

  She watched helplessly as Gabe eased the card from the envelope. Aunt Marnie never sealed the envelopes, always tucking in the flaps instead so that Lainey wouldn’t end up with a paper cut on her birthday. His mischievous smile fell as the cartoon image of a monkey holding a birthday cake slid into view.

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

  “For the same reason you never told me.” Birthdays were the kind of thing couples shared with each other. The kind of thing you remembered and celebrated together year after year. Not the kind of thing Lainey and Gabe needed to share.

  “Whoa! It’s your birthday? No way. Are you as old as Gabe? You know what birthdays mean.” Johnny appeared out of nowhere to plant a kiss smack on her lips, leaving her too stunned to react.

  “It’s your birthday, too? Why didn’t you say something? Mama could have made you a special cake,” Tessa chimed in, loud enough that everyone on the block could hear.

  “It’s no big deal,” Lainey answered cheerily, trying to ignore the dozens of expectant stares fixed on her. “Let’s just focus on Gabe. The party is for him.”

  “Well, you still need to get your birthday bumps. It’s the rule
of birthdays. Hey, Aiden, grab her legs and I’ll get her arms,” Johnny said, inviting everyone’s laughter.

  “Oh no.” Fortunately, Lainey realized quickly enough what Johnny was up to. She smacked his grabby hands away in the nick of time, and secured his compliance by flashing her “don’t mess with me” glare.

  Gabe’s mother was the next person in line to totter up to her and further her embarrassment, giving Lainey a big hug, which she tolerated because, well, it was his mom.

  “How amazing to have the same birthday. What are the odds? Come, come. You need your own candles. I will get you a special piece of cake.”

  Against her better judgment, she let Gabe’s mom drag her to the long table where the remnants of the white-frosted chocolate cake rested, and tried to hide her embarrassment.

  WATCHING LAINEY GO OFF with his mother warmed Gabe’s heart. He could see by the way her face was scrunched up in concentration that she was calculating her every action carefully. She was a natural, though. Sure, she was quiet and preferred not to be the center of attention, but Lainey’s kindness and genuine interest in others shone through today. His mother lit a single candle on a slice of cake and held it up for Lainey to blow out.

  “She’s an amazing woman,” Joe whispered to Gabe. “How do you plan on screwing things up this time?”

  Gabe shook his head. “That she is. But she’s only agreed to date me in the preseason. Not enough time for even me to screw it up before it’s over.”

  Joe laughed. “That’s a first. Usually you’re the one setting the expiration date on your relationships.” He took a swig of Diet Coke. “Then again, can you really call one-night stands and promotional appearances relationships?”

  With no witty response available, he gave Joe a little shove and turned his attention back to Lainey.

  “What did you wish for, my dear?” Mama asked her. “No, wait, don’t tell me. It’s bad luck.”

  A flush crept along her cheeks, but her pluck was intact. “I didn’t think to make a wish. But I guess if I were going to, it’d be for the Falcons to win the Battle of the Sexes.” She winked at Gabe.

  Mama pulled her into a quick bear hug. “I’m cheering for the Falcons, too. Us girls have to stick together.”

  “Even if the Surge losing means Lainey won’t give us back our practice space?” Zazu called out. Unfortunately, he was too far away for Gabe to tell him to knock it off.

  A curious expression, underlined by a subtle casing of fear, crossed Mama’s face as she caught Gabe’s eyes with hers. “The hex,” she whispered softly.

  “Ma, what’s going on?” Gabe asked tentatively. The entire crowd of partygoers hushed.

  Mama stepped into the middle of the yard with her head bowed, like she was stepping onto holy ground. She wrung her hands before lifting her head to face the crowd, mouth pulled into a tight, grim line. Dread trickled into Gabe’s stomach. He recognized the expression on his mama’s face. Nervous, yet determined. It was her confession face.

  “I never told you the entire truth about Irina’s hex. It was not just your father and me that she hexed. She cursed our firstborn, too. I never believed Irina had the ability to set a hex with such longevity. But now I see I was wrong. The woman you fall in love with will trigger the hex. Just as Irina predicted you would follow in your father’s footsteps with your soccer career, so, too, will you follow in his downfall because of a woman. Lainey is the only thing standing in the way of you escaping the curse of Cricket Field.”

  “Ma, this isn’t the time—”

  “Don’t you see?” She threw her hands up in the air, like she was pleading. “It’s Irina’s hex at work!”

  “Ma, just stop. The hex isn’t real,” he said forcefully, stomach physically aching. It went against every instinct in his body to speak to his mama that way. For as long as he could remember, he dutifully entertained some of her crazier beliefs, nodding along until he half believed the superstitions that pervaded every aspect of their lives. But he couldn’t allow her to speak about Lainey that way, like she was some kind of black cloud instead of the best thing that ever happened to him.

  This was not how he wanted her to experience a Havelak family get-together for the first time—not if he ever wanted her to come back for more. He looked for Lainey’s reaction for some kind of hint they would be okay, but he couldn’t find her anywhere.

  She was already gone.

  19

  For a soccer player, age isn’t measured in years. It’s measured by the number of ice packs you go through each week.

  —Gabe Havelak, quoted in Soccer Magazine Weekly

  LAINEY DRAGGED HER FEET against the parquet floor toward Mrs. Wilson’s suite, where a week’s worth of newspapers were stacked up in a haphazard pile. Lainey knew that her neighbor was visiting her grandkids in Minnesota this week, so she figured it wouldn’t really count as stealing if she borrowed her paper this morning. Still, she hesitated after plucking the latest edition from the pile. Was it stealing? She vacillated in the hallway until the distant sound of a door opening had her scurrying back to her apartment, newspaper in hand.

  With a silent promise to apologize to Mrs. Wilson, Lainey dropped the paper onto her counter and shuffled the pages.

  Sure enough, someone at the party had leaked the details of their tryst to the media, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.

  It was much, much worse.

  The sports section featured the same grumpy photo of her as the last time, since they apparently couldn’t be bothered to find a better one, with the poetic headline “Cursed.” Every word she read dropped into her belly like a lead weight. “Is Lainey Lukas the undoing of Seattle soccer? If you believe in curses, the answer just might be yes.” The rest of the article went on to give the history of the curse of Cricket Field and speculated whether their beloved Hometown Havelak would be the next victim.

  “If Seattle loves him so much, they can have him,” she muttered, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. Lainey knew early on in her career that female athletes never got the respect they deserved—from the fans or the media. Most people didn’t recognize their abilities, and the few who did tended to think they were freaks of nature. Unfeminine. Unnatural. Unworthy.

  The unfairness of it all was like poison in her veins. It’s why she refused to let herself be defined by a man. It didn’t matter what her intentions were, though. As long as she and Gabe were together, her achievements would never be respected. No man was worth that sacrifice. Not even a man who made her feel as cherished and happy as Gabe did.

  She pulled on her hoodie and made her way down to the narrow parking spot behind her apartment, where her nearly twenty-year-old black Honda was hibernating. To her relief and surprise, Gabe wasn’t lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce the minute she stepped outside of her refuge. He’d already left three messages that morning when she refused to answer any of his calls. Though she wanted nothing more than to curl up on her couch and ignore reality, duty called. And this particular duty had an overly developed sense of entitlement and a whiny Canadian accent that could wear down a brick wall.

  Twenty minutes later, Lainey pulled into the driveway leading to Jaime’s basement apartment. She grabbed the paper bags perched on her passenger seat and jogged to the side entrance. After a couple of unanswered knocks, she let herself in to confront the moaning beast behind the door.

  Jaime was lying supine on her sofa, face ghostly pale and a fleece blanket tucked around her. “Oh good. You’re here,” she said, her scratchy voice cracking. “Now I can generously provide you with my bosom to cradle into while you sob about your pathetic broken heart. I already read the paper this morning. Come to mamabear, baby, I’m here for you.”

  Lainey laughed and set the groceries on the dark cherrywood table as Jaime weakly stretched out her arms.

  “Are you feeling nauseous?”

  “No, just have the chills and a headache.”

  Lainey searched Jaime’s cabinets. There was
no discernible logic to how the small kitchen was organized. Plates, food, even cutlery were mashed together in every drawer, nearly overflowing. Eventually, she located a tall plastic glass. After a quick rinse, Lainey filled it with some juice and snuggled on to the edge of the couch by Jaime.

  “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better,” she said, tipping the green liquid past Jaime’s cracked lips.

  Jaime sputtered, flecks of green staining the white fleece blanket. “This is disgusting.”

  “It’s good for you. It’s kale, carrot, and cherry juice. The cashier at Whole Foods said it helps the immune system.”

  “They say rum does the same thing.”

  Lainey rolled her eyes. “Just close your eyes and pretend it’s a mojito.”

  “I don’t care how much you dress it up, this shit will never be a mojito.” She batted the glass away when Lainey offered her more.

  “Did you just shiver?” Despite being buried in blankets, Lainey could hear Jaime’s teeth chattering. A sheen of sweat appeared on Jaime’s forehead as she shook her head. Lainey rifled through her supplies and whipped out a thermometer. “Keep this in your mouth for thirty seconds. It’s pretty damp in here. Do you have a space heater?”

  “You know, I didn’t really invite you here to play Florence Nightingale. I asked you to come to entertain me while I’m convalescing. After yesterday, I was expecting you to be all crazy distraught like Carrie at the prom, with makeup running down your face and planning to do something reckless after the jackass broke your heart.”

  “First of all, keep your mouth closed until there’s a read. Second, I don’t wear makeup. And third, I’ve already done something reckless. I’m retiring. I’m not cut out for professional sports and all the bullshit that goes with it.”

  Jaime’s eyes widened with shock, and the thermometer dropped out of her mouth. She sat up and grabbed Lainey’s arms. “You can’t quit! We need you. I need you. You’re the best player on the team, the only one who can keep up with me!”