“Nothing you need to worry about. Nicole is over.”
But something tells me that’s not the case.
I sit at my desk in my room and stare at the sketchbook. I’m supposed to find a few sketches that speak of me and my style so I can send them to colleges, but I got lost somewhere.
For the past hour, I’ve been staring at multiple sketches of Levi. There are a few of him scoring, running, or just standing over the team with crossed arms.
I can’t get him out of my head.
Since that day he walked out on, I keep replaying the last look in his eyes. The hurt. The defeat.
I broke his wings, but I’m the one who’s bleeding.
I’ve been dreaming that he’d come back to knock on my door or sneak from my window.
But that’s all they were. Dreams.
Even if he came, it’d only make it harder to push him away again.
Because I said the truth. He’ll only see me as the daughter of the woman who killed his father. And while Mum had nothing to do with it, his father died that day.
I can’t live having him look at me that way.
That doesn’t mean I can stop thinking about him, though.
That doesn’t mean I can stop my muse from sketching him.
A few months.
It’ll be less than a few months before we go our separate paths.
Dan mentioned that Jonathan King allowed Levi to play professionally.
He’ll pick either Manchester or Liverpool and live at the other half of the country while I continue studying in London.
My heart aches and bleeds at the thought of never seeing him again.
“Those are really pretty.”
I startle and meet Dad’s gaze. I fumble with the notepad, slamming it shut and fight the embarrassment creeping up my cheeks.
Thank God Dad didn’t see the half-naked sketches.
“I knocked,” he says. “Three times.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He pulls a chair and sits beside me. “I mean it. You have a special talent that’s different from your mother’s.”
I smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Are you returning to school?”
I wince. “It’s time, I guess. I can’t run away forever.”
No matter how much I want to.
“I know it’s been crazy around here recently, but you’re strong and I trust that you’ll get through this.”
“I know, Dad, it’s just…”
“That King boy?”
I swallow. “It’s over between us, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried. My feud with Jonathan isn’t something you two should worry about.”
“Dad… are you approving of Levi right now?”
“He had the balls to meet me head on and even risked his future to process evidence about your accident. That grants him some points.” He scrunches his nose. “He still has that loathsome King pride, but it can be wrenched out of him.”
“But… but how about Mum and his father?”
“They both died, Astrid. It was an accident. Neither you or Levi had anything to do with it.” He holds my hand in his. “All this guilt is coming from inside you and you’re the only one who can fight it.”
“I don’t know how.” My voice breaks.
“Ask yourself. Are you living for the past or for the future?”
I’m speechless, not knowing how to respond to that.
Dad stands up and pats my hand. “For what it’s worth, that boy seemed infuriatingly set on the future.”
54
Levi
It isn’t over until it’s over.
* * *
The sound of the spectators is deafening.
We’re on our way to the championship.
Coach Larson looks at me like a hawk and points at his watch. Five. We only have five minutes left.
I motion at Ronan and Cole to push back to defence. I know they want to go out with a bang, but it’s been a bitch to defend our two to one against Manchester even though we’re playing on our ground.
I scored the first goal and Aiden scored the second.
The prick’s Daniel’s words from the other time stayed with me. For the last few games, I’ve been giving the team more leeway to have fun as long as the results are there.
Being the captain doesn’t only mean leading my team to victory. It also means being there for the fall and listening to them when they talk. Like every responsible general would do.
We lose the ball, and Aiden slams his shoulder in mine on his way back.
“You’re sloppy, Captain.” His eyes shine with contempt as he runs backwards. “I’d be surprised if you impress any scouts with your safe ways.”
Fucker.
He laughs, exchanging glances with Xander.
Sometimes, I think Aiden only allows himself to let go during the game. For ninety minutes, he transforms into an unstoppable beast, playing the opponent’s defence until he wears them out.
Cole snatches the ball from a midfielder and passes it to me. I keep possession, studying the pitch.
I can defend our score and win the game for sure. I can play as Coach wants. As everyone expects.
But I’m not a coward.
I’m a King and we don’t play fucking safe.
I sprint forward, and I can almost imagine the Coach yelling profanities in my peripheral vision.
I focus on the crowd going wild, the adrenaline pumping in my veins, and my team who follows me.
Aiden and Xander sprint on either side of me so we form a triangle. I dribble past one from defence and pass the ball to Xan who changes the direction with one masterful touch to Aiden.
I push in the last defender’s back and make sure we’re at the same line.
Aiden runs forward like a bull in between two defenders and passes me the ball. I don’t bother to keep it in place. I shoot it while it’s still in the air.
The crowd goes wild. I don’t even get a chance to see the ball inside the net. Aiden tackles me to the ground and the entire team plus the bench form a pile on top of me.
It’s impossible to breath, but I laugh anyway. It paid off. The gamble paid off.
This isn’t even only about the game anymore. This is about the fucking zombie I’ve become the last two weeks.
After I walked out on Astrid and never looked back because I was playing it safe.
That’s not me.
And it’ll never be.
Xan and Ro carry me on their shoulders and I shout alongside them.
This victory is for us, not only me.
That’s probably the difference between me and Aiden. He’s too individualist to play the game right.
And the reason I’ll make sure he’s not the captain once I’m out of here.
The guys lower me when we reach Coach Larson. He stares at me with a disapproving glance, and all the guys grow silent.
“That was a dangerous stunt, Captain.” Coach grins. “But a damn good one at that.”
He headlocks me and I accept the taunting punches from everyone.
“Coach.”
He and the rest of the team straighten at Uncle’s voice.
“Mr King.” Coach Larson shakes Uncle’s hand. “You should be proud of your son and your nephew.”