The Game Changer - Chapter Ten (Patreon)

Let's buckle up, buttercups - it's game time!

(literally)

Go Red Foxes

---------The Game Changer----------

Chapter Ten

Rose had never in her life ran through the halls of Elliston. When she was younger, her parents would have had a conniption over the lack of decorum – and she’d known that her parents were made aware of everything she did in the walls of this institution, even when she’d started living here.

As an adult, as the headmaster, she would hate to be seen with such a lack of decorum.

But right now, it was either miss the pre-game locker room time with the team or run. So, she fucking ran.

She refused to be late to the team’s first game of the season, even if her reason for being late was beyond her control.

All games were a big deal – Rose believed that in her very bones. But the very first game of the season, especially given her relatively new status on the team as a coach, the pre-game pump-up in the locker room was important. Important for the team, important for morale.

And the teams’ morale wasn’t quite what she’d have hoped; she’d seen that with her own eyes in the last week.

She took a sharp turn, already reaching for the locker room door.

Only to find that instead of making contact with the door, she made contact with a person. A person she hit, then proceeded to slam in to, given her demanding pace.

Could anything go right today?

She skidded to as quick of a stop as she could manage, yanking her hand back, hoping she hadn’t slammed into a student. And this was why she shouldn’t be running down the fucking halls, as if she wasn’t a faculty member. Wasn’t the headmaster.

“I apologize,” she was already saying, fully contrite, even before she looked at who she bumped into.

And it wasn’t so much looking at as it was looking up.

Darting her eyes up the six inches to meet Gianna Beckett’s unaffected stare. “It’s not a problem.”

“Mrs. Beckett,” she commented in surprise, glancing around to make sure that she hadn’t somehow ran toward the field rather than the correct turn toward the locker room. She hadn’t. “Apologies, again, for bumping into you.”

Gianna Beckett was a formidable figure, and that was putting it extremely mildly.

Rose didn’t often feel intimidated by others – and when she did, she did not like it. Growing up juggling the expectations and pressures from her parents combined with their social and economic status, she’d navigated the highs and lows of the upper echelon of society since before she could remember.

However, Gianna Beckett wasn’t quite… the same.

And though she’d become familiar with Gianna at the end of the previous school year given her status as the head of the PTA, it had been glaringly obvious to Rose that Gianna was very unlike the majority of the typical parents of wealthy Elliston students.

There was nothing conservative about her, not in politics, mannerisms, or the way she looked.

Though she was – to Rose’s estimation – in her late forties and a mother of four, she walked into school meetings looking like a model. Her blonde hair was long and silky and if it was dyed to mask any grays there was no way to tell, and in her face, frankly, she looked like she was at least ten years younger. Likely a combination of great genetics and an incredible, yet subtle, use of makeup.

She was bold and outspoken and very not someone Rose had wanted to engage with, given that keeping the Board happy and everything about Gianna Beckett seemed like it would put her in a very… delicate position.

If Rose were in a different position and not trying to juggle keeping her most wealthy and conservative benefactors happy while subtly trying to make changes, then Gianna would likely be a great ally.

But that wasn’t the position she was currently in. And it wouldn’t be for a while, likely several years.

So, until that time, she was doing her best to maintain a friendly but distant relationship with Gianna Beckett, Audacious and Outspoken PTA President.

“No harm was done,” Gianna remarked easily, holding her hands out slightly as if to say see? Her terrifyingly physically flawless form remained unflawed. “Anya’s little sisters noticed that she’d forgotten the lucky bracelet they’d made her for the game, and insisted she receive it. I just caught her for a minute before she headed in.”

There was something protective in her tone that gave Rose the inkling that she’d dropped by to check in on Anya before the game, rather than for the excuse of a lucky bracelet.

Especially given Anya’s demeanor at practice for the last week. While Abbie was right – she was very talented – Rose knew she was also right – Anya was young. She was the youngest person on varsity that they were starting, and this was her first time stepping in as the main striker in a game.

It was a big deal. And it was made even bigger because Izzie was very clearly unhappy about it, and made her feelings known.

Gianna cleared her throat. “I heard you’ve taken on the position of Coach as well as Headmaster, recently. That you’ve taken over as Anya’s offensive coach, specifically.”

There was an intense, measuring look in her eyes as she sized Rose up. Wondering about – doubting? – Rose being able to and capable of coaching her daughter. Which made her bristle.

“I have,” she returned, with that same measuring tone.

She made a point of glancing down at her current attire.

Because, for a split-second, she also needed to confirm to herself that she had actually taken a minute to change into the uniform before rushing out of her office. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she noted that she hadn’t put the shirt on backwards in her haste, either.

She’d finally had time to swing by the athletics department today during the ten minutes she’d had for a lunch break, and grabbed the voluminous package of clothing Abbie had set aside for her.

In fact, their email exchange from this morning –

Happy Game Day, my Assistant Coach,

It’s time you get with the program and acquire the clothing that is befitting a Red Fox Coach. All of the red and black polos, sweatshirts, windbreakers, hats, and shorts you can dream of.

I, actually, think it’s a little crazy that I have to set this up for you. Given that you are the top of the food chain here and all, but I’ve set everything aside for you. I have about a bajillion meetings today (running the athletics department is no joke) but the package is ready to be picked up.

I expect to see you in team gear for the game.

GO RED FOXES! Abigail E. Parker

.

Dear Abbie (not to be confused with the advice columnist, you can keep that to yourself) –

If you think you have a bajillion meetings, imagine how many I have?

Also, I hadn’t been aware that I would have to acquire my own coaching attire, given that I’m merely your assistant coach. Something that you are very insistent on reminding me. In that realm, I’m your subordinate; shouldn’t YOU be providing ME with the things you’ve decided I need?

Rose Margaret Elliston

Had been the highlight of her entire day. At least, until she’d realized the subtext included in her message. Which Abbie hadn’t responded to, per her own “bajillion” meetings.

Shaking her head, putting her back into the moment, she arched a look back at Gianna.

If there was one thing she wasn’t going to listen to outside opinions about at this school, even to Gianna Beckett who ruled the PTA with an iron fist and could put her into potentially uncomfortable positions, it was this. Soccer was her realm. Something she was positive she could do well, without second-guessing herself.

“I’ve also heard that you’ve changed some things up at practice, in terms of having Anya swap out with Izzie Minton. Should I take that to mean you have doubts starting her?” Gianna asked, slowly folding her arms over her chest.

Rose mirrored her. “What it means is that Anya is a very talented player, but that she’s only even been on the high school team for one year before this.”

What it also meant was that Anya Beckett was extremely perceptive. Because Rose knew for damn sure there was no way the girls had overheard her comments to Abbie regarding her doubts.

“Coach Parker didn’t seem to have any qualms about it.”

“Coach Parker and I aren’t the same person, and we’re certainly not the same coach.”

There was something about the way Gianna sized her up as they squared off that made her stomach squirm, in a manner than was wildly unfamiliar. The only other person that made her feel like she was going toe-to-toe like this was Abbie, but this was far from that feeling.

No, this wasn’t exhilarating for Rose. It didn’t make her heart pound or her stomach flutter.

It was like she was being read by someone she didn’t know. And she did not appreciate it. Especially not after the day she’d already had.

“Hmm,” Gianna hummed, pursing her lips.

“I believe that Anya has great potential, and I also believe I’ll help her reach it.” There. That was as much as she was willing to discuss.

Gianna narrowed her eyes, before giving her a short, somewhat approving nod. “All right, then.”

“Great,” she sighed out, arching a pointed look at her. “Now, I have to head into the locker room before we get onto the field.”

Because she was already running late, by now. And that rankled her.

“And I have to meet my wife.”

Rose did a double-take, wondering if there was something pointed in the way Gianna intoned her wife. Like she was trying to get a read on how Rose would respond.

Was she being paranoid? Was Gianna trying to… test her? Did she suspect Rose was queer, or was she trying to see how accepting Rose was, in comparison to her father?

“Let her know that I appreciated her feedback at the end of last year and did download her news app onto the school domain. It’s been very useful,” she effused, honestly.

Though she’d only met Riley Beckett once, at the end-of-year celebration last June, she’d found her far more approachable than her wife. Rose appreciated that quality, deeply. And she also deeply appreciated Riley’s direct approach to making it easy and accessible for their students to watch the news.

“I absolutely will,” Gianna rolled her shoulders back, proudly. There was an easy smile on her face now, something that transformed her from the Protective Parent and into… whatever this version of her was.

Gianna seemed incredibly fierce in regards to her children, and incredibly soft when it came to her wife.

Good to know.

She shook her head, reaching for the handle to the locker room door, when Gianna turned to say to her, “I’m hoping our schedules can align at some point soon to discuss some matters I’d like to have presented to the Board this year.”

Rose barely managed to hold back the long-suffering sigh that wanted to escape, rolling her shoulders back as she affirmed, “I’m sure they will.”

The fucking rub of it all was that Rose was certain she and Gianna Beckett would align on many of her agenda items. More than Gianna likely knew.

She was also certain that Gianna had no idea the predicament it was to actually put these agenda items into action – much like almost everyone that had pushed too hard, too fast for Big Changes at Elliston.

With that, she hurried into the locker room.

Which was already fucking empty. Damn it.

Rose’s stomach twisted in disappointment and frustration, and she curled her lips into a thin line.

At the very least, she could appreciate that it was a home game. And the game hadn’t yet begun; the girls were out on the field to do some warming up, first. But… still.

She breathed out a slight sigh of relief, the cramping in her stomach only slightly letting up, when she jogged out to the field and noted that she had, in fact, made it before the game started. The girls were doing some quick warm-ups, as was the Wellsley team across the field, the spectators were in the bleachers.

But, she’d made it.

“You’re late,” Abbie said quietly, as soon as she was within earshot. She shot Rose a confused, clearly agitated look. “I didn’t think that, of all things, would be something we’d have to talk about? That you kind of have to be on time to the games?”

“It’s not,” she bristled, folding her arms tightly over her chest.

Abbie’s eyebrows were furrowed as she turned to face Rose. “This is not the way I wanted to go into our first game.”

“Me, neither,” she agreed, gritting her teeth.

Before she could get in another word for her own defense, Abbie continued, “The girls are nervous as hell, they were wondering where you were, and they need all of the support we can give them right now.”

“I know, Lemon,” she snapped, the agitated bubble inside of her bursting.

Not at Abbie, but… in general. The frustration she felt that she’d had to keep tightly capped all afternoon, bubbled over, lacing through her veins.

Abbie reeled back at her tone, a deep frown tugging onto her perfect lips.

And right on the heels of that frustration was the frustration at herself for not being able to control it all. Frustration at snapping at Abbie, who wasn’t wrong in the least for being agitated at Rose for missing their pre-game warm-ups in the locker room. Especially given that she had no context.

She reached up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I am really sorry.” She was caught between biting back a further explanation and leaving it at her truly sincere apology, or diving in to what had caused her tardiness.

Because her instinct was to bite it back.

But she and Abbie had just talked about this. About how Rose needed to communicate more clearly, more effectively. Which she wouldn’t do if she didn’t feel compelled to or if the person she was talking to didn’t deserve her time and energy or her explanations.

But… Abbie did deserve those things. Not just because they were co-coaches, but because Rose wanted to offer them to her.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit under the weight she’d been holding up all afternoon. “I’ve had the world’s shittiest day today,” she confessed, “And my final meeting was supposed to end thirty minutes earlier than it did. And then I got caught up talking to Gianna Beckett, of all people, which really pushed things over the edge.”

For several beats, Abbie’s electric gaze was settled intently on her, as if trying to read Rose from the inside out.

It wasn’t a look she enjoyed, and her stomach fluttered at it, but she tilted her chin up and held her ground.

Abbie shook her head, her blonde ponytail swaying behind her. “I really like her. But she’s kind of terrifying when it comes to Anya.”

“She is. And I understand that.” As a parent, she very much understood that. “But I refuse to take any feedback when it comes to coaching unless it comes from you.”

And that was something she hadn’t realized until that interaction with Gianna, but as she words left her mouth, she found that she really meant them.

Abbie and this sport were so deeply entwined for her. Abbie and respect were so deeply entwined for her. She respect Abbie’s abilities, her knowledge, her passion, her dedication.

She huffed out a breath, rolling her shoulders back.

“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly. “If I could have ended that meeting any sooner, I would have. I would have loved to end it sooner,” she muttered, sharply. “Sitting across from two of the most conservative, closed-minded egomaniacs, who unfortunately happen to be huge benefactors to the school was not my preferred way to spend the last two hours. I didn’t want to miss what I’m sure was an inspiring speech from you. I didn’t want to have the girls doubting that I was going to be here.”

Abbie’s eyes were wide, clearly surprised at her explanation. Or maybe at the emotion that Rose could hear laced through her own voice, just as she could feel it tying her stomach up in knots.

Either way, it made her feel a little embarrassed, made her want to curl in a little bit on herself at the display.

She closed her eyes, gathering herself, as she worked her jaw back and forth. Control. She’d worked for a very long time to be able to hone control over her emotions. And being the headmaster at Elliston demanded she use that control.

And she blinked her eyes open quickly when she felt Abbie reach down and gently squeeze the hand she hadn’t realized had curled into a fist. She stared down at the way Abbie touched her for a long moment, before Abbie said quietly, “It’s all right. Next time, though, can you just… text me?”

She drew in a long, calming breath, looking into those bright blue eyes. And she nodded. slowly. “I hope there won’t be a next time. But I will.”

Abbie squeezed her hand once more, and Rose felt it, the sparks from that touch, zip through her. “And… I’m sorry, too,” she whispered, sincerity etched into her voice.

Rose eyed Abbie, who was biting her cheek, looking down at the ground in a way that was far too fucking cute for a fully grown woman. And yet, Abbie managed to pull it off in a way that was entirely too endearing.

“Why are you sorry?” She asked, confused.

Abbie blinked back at her, like she was confused by Rose being confused. “Because I shouldn’t have snapped at you when you arrived, before even asking you for an explanation. I’ve never known you to be late to a single thing, so… I should have assumed you’d have a good reason.”

Yeah, that warm fluttering feeling that Abbie inspired inside of her far too easily came right back, even as she scoffed. “You know, that apology? Is the whole reason why you could never bully me.”

Abbie’s mouth fell open in offense. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that you said just the other day that you thought you were bullying me. I was late today, and I didn’t text you beforehand; you expressing that you’re unhappy about that is fair,” she acknowledged, unable to hold back an amused laugh. “But, instead, you’re apologizing to me.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m a doormat or something like that,” Abbie retorted, clearly offended.

“I never said you were, nor do I believe that.” In fact, Rose was pretty convinced that Abbie constantly zinging right back at her through their adolescence was a big part of the reason she’d been so fixated on her.

All right, fine, she would have been fixated no matter what. Given the strength of her feelings for Abbie back then.

But… she probably could have left it – left Abbie – completely alone. Except Abbie always seemed to come right back, pushing back at Rose. Needling at her.

“But I’m adult enough to apologize when I feel I’ve done something wrong,” Abbie continued with a firm nod. “And – since we’re two adults, who are embarking on a clean slate – I should have asked what held you up before being all… accusing.”

“It’s fine,” she dismissed, and she meant it.

In fact, she was shaking her own head, incredulously, because of course that was how Abbie saw the world. Of course that was how Abbie would want to approach any situation. Giving people the benefit of the doubt.

It was what Rose had always liked about her. A little too much.

And it was certainly not a quality Rose shared.

“I…” Abbie cast a look around, swaying in a little closer and leaning in, so her lips were level with Rose’s ear.

And Rose’s breath hitched and caught in her throat at the proximity. At how she could smell Abbie’s subtle scent – something fresh and clean and far too lovely. At how she could feel the way Abbie’s hot breath washed over her ear, and she shivered at it.

“I’m nervous,” Abbie breathed out in a confession. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous before a game in my career, which is crazy.”

Rose was a little lightheaded, and she tightened her hands into fists, getting control over herself.

But, damn it, she couldn’t control her body’s physical reaction to Abbie. She never could.

“It is,” she muttered back, her voice hoarse. She had to clear her throat, before she managed to tease, “You were literally just in the Olympics.”

She could breathe a little easier when Abbie leaned back, gesturing around widely. “That’s what I’m saying. It’s crazy, but I… I’m confident in myself, as a player. I’m not cool, calm, and collected as a coach, yet.”

For all she expressed that she was nervous, Rose didn’t feel nervous standing with her. She felt… peaceful. The most peace she’d had all day.

She eyed Abbie for a few critical seconds, before she said, “You don’t look like it, though, and that’s the important thing.”

Abbie’s mouth curled into a small, appreciative smile. “That’s great to hear. But… I probably took your absence a little… harder… than I otherwise might have.”

Rose hesitated, wondering what the right thing to say was. Because the reality was that she was glad Abbie took her absence “hard.” In that – she was glad Abbie believed her to be dependable. She was glad Abbie – hopefully – had positive notions about her.

She wanted Abbie to have expectations for her to live up to, if only for her to prove that she could.

“I see you found your uniform,” Abbie commented, leaning back to run her eyes up and down her.

Rose glanced down at herself, again. The way she had when she’d been standing with Gianna, but… different.

Then, it had been a quick assurance.

This time, it was appraising.

She was wearing plain, black pants, as well as a form-fitting red undershirt. Which, honestly, would be highly inappropriate on the field, given how it clung to the curve of her waist and her breasts. But it was tight enough not to make her feel uncomfortable as she’d layered the black Red Fox windbreaker over it.

Wearing loose clothing in layers was not going to fly with her, and she hadn’t worn athletic attire in nearly ten years, so… she was finding her footing.

She reached up, fixing the way the zipper on the 3/4 zip. “I did.”

“Looks good,” Abbie complimented, sliding her eyes back up to Rose’s.

And there was no reason for Rose to believe Abbie was commenting in any way other than professional. She didn’t give her any flirty looks or suggestive tones. And the outfit was not, in any way, something Rose would consider “attractive.”

Then again…

She slid her eyes over Abbie. Who was wearing red shorts that ended mid-thigh, with the same black windbreaker Rose wore. In no way did it highlight any of the flawless form of her body, and yet, she still found it – found Abbie – attractive in it.

“Thank you. Yours, too,” she murmured back, arching an eyebrow at her.

She could mean it professionally as well.

Abbie held eye contact with her for another beat, before she cleared her throat and looked down at her watch. “God. Okay. Let’s call the girls over and get started.”

***

“We sucked.”

Rose lifted her eyebrows in consideration at the flat, matter-of-fact tone Rachel used.

It was the first thing that was said, post-game, as they’d all congregated back in the locker room, and murmurs – as well as sighs and groans – of agreement were let out by more than one person.

Rose was careful not to let any expression on her face, nor let out any sound of possible agreement, herself.

“No, you didn’t,” Abbie disagreed, vehemently, from where she stood next to her at the front of the room.

And that fervor, that belief, in Abbie’s voice was why Abbie was the head coach and Rose wasn’t. Well, she supposed, by Abbie was meant to be the head coach. Why Abbie was so suited for the position.

Because even though they really hadn’t played amazingly, the emotion and conviction in Abbie’s tone as she dismissed the very notion rang so sincere.

“Look, you’re becoming a new team. We’re all becoming a new team,” Abbie amended, shaking her head as she looked out at the girls. “This was our first game; if we get discouraged after losing a single game – the first game as our new team – then we won’t ever have the ability to improve.”

“Ummm… that’s really nice, Coach. But it’s easier for you to say because you’re, like, one of the most decorated players of all time. So, you’re not a loser. We are,” Casey Ryan, one of their defenders, said, utterly downtrodden.

Rose frowned back at her, feeling a twinge of the disagreement that Abbie must be feeling, as well. “Don’t call yourself or your teammates losers,” she reproached. “Losing a game doesn’t make you a loser.”

Granted, Rose knew she’d feel the exact same way if she was on the team right now. She had felt that way back when she’d been playing. Every loss weighed on her shoulders like a personal failure. Like… soccer was the thing she loved, the thing she prided herself on, and when she didn’t win, she was a loser.

But as she stood on the other side of the locker room, looking at her team of teenage girls… well, she supposed she really did understand the other side of the coin, now.

Because their uniforms were grass stained, their ponytails and braids were falling apart, there was a variety of dirt and some bruises going around. They’d played hard.

Abbie looked at her, obviously surprised but encouragingly. Like she hadn’t expected Rose to say anything, but excited that she was.

She blew out a breath. “Look, I didn’t have the career that our esteemed Coach Abbie did. And I don’t have her overwhelmingly positive attitude. But when I look at you right now, I’m telling you that I don’t have any shame in being your coach. You left it all on the field, and that’s all I can, personally, ask of you. If any of you have any regrets or think you could have been better, then take that into the next game.”

Abbie’s smile was bright as it flashed it her, before she turned it onto the team. “That’s what I’m talking about. Every loss is a gain. Because it gives us something to learn from. When we’ve been practicing, we haven’t been able to really learn where our game-time weaknesses might be. Now we know. So, what did we learn from this time?”

“That Wellsley’s defense is a beast,” Anya said, rubbing gingerly at her cheek, where she’d taken an elbow.

Abbie nodded. “I know you’re being a little glib, but honestly – yes! We’ve reviewed their strategy from last year, and their defense wasn’t nearly as well-practiced as it is this year. So, that’s new. And we know that now. That’s what I’m talking about. What else?”

“That we should have kept me in my position,” Izzie muttered.

Unsurprisingly – immediately – Anya whipped her head around to glare, and the discord started up.

Just as Rose opened her mouth to cut it off at the knees, Abbie whistled so loudly, so sharply, they all jumped. Rose included.

“That is not that I’m talking about, and you know it,” Abbie’s response was firm and low and no-nonsense in a way that pinged at something very specific inside of Rose.

It seemed to have the correct, and appropriate, effect on the girls, as well, as Izzie bit the inside of her cheek and rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything else.

“Our post-game reviews are never going to be about tearing each other down,” Abbie swiftly continued, nailing Izzie with a hard look, before running that same stare over everyone else. “These reviews are learning activities, ways for us all to become better. And I won’t tolerate anyone placing blame. I hope that’s understood.”

“Yes, Coach,” the team chorused back. Even Izzie, clearly begrudgingly.

“And, for that matter, Anya – you did an incredible job. Their defense was a beast, and you still scored the first goal of the game. That was amazing to see,” Rose cut in, with an approving nod.

Anya looked up at her, a beaming smile sliding into place.

Abbie clapped her hands once to gather everyone’s attention. “We lost by one goal. That’s it. And if we can take what we’ve learned and focus on that, we’ll get better. People aren’t born perfect at anything; every skill takes practice and dedication. You’ve already been giving it your all, and you’ve already improved–”

“Last year, Wellesley beat us by four points,” Casey piped up again.

“Exactly!” Abbie snapped her fingers at her with excited agreement. “You can’t always measure success in whether or not you win. What you can do is measure your improvements. And the proof is in the pudding. So to speak.” She nodded at them. “I’m proud of you. Now, I’m not going to hold you hostage any longer. Grab a shower and change, go meet up with your friends and family, who I’m sure are all as proud of your improvements as we are.”

Abbie’s smile was bright and encouraging and so magnetic, all Rose could do was stare. What she wanted to say was that Abbie was corny or cheesy, and she was sure a part of all of the teenagers also wanted to feel that way.

But they all let out sounds of agreement, looking and sounding more energized than they had when they’d walked in here after the game, before they split off to do exactly what Abbie had said.

Before she could say anything to Abbie, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Multiple times.

Rolling her eyes, she fished it out – these ridiculously oversized pockets in the windbreaker – to see that Nathan was calling her.

“Hello?” She answered, reaching up with her opposite hand to cover her ear.

“Mom! We – we’re outside!” Cassie called over the phone to her.

“Yeah, we’re outside,” Nathan chorused in.

“I got something for you!” Cassie shouted over the din of the noise from outside the locker room.

She hesitated, glancing over at Abbie, who was closing the door to her office and flicking off the lights. She hadn’t really known what to expect, post-game.

It wasn’t as though she and Abbie had any semblance of plans. In fact, they hadn’t spoken a single word about possibly spending time together after the game was done.

But, for no reason whatsoever, she’d had this thought that they would. At the very least that they’d be able to sit down together after the team left and have a conversation. Whether it was about the game and the team, about other work goings on, about… anything – she only realized now, watching as Abbie locked her office door, that she’d been looking forward to it.

Yes, she loved soccer. Yes, she’d missed it, somewhere deep inside. Abbie’s assessment that she loved this, that it made her come alive, was very true.

But… it was also a way to see Abbie, to talk to her. To make sure that they really were on good terms, that maybe they could form a positive relationship as adults.

“I’ll be right out,” she said back, before hanging up the phone as Abbie walked back toward her. “Leaving so soon?”

Abbie nonchalantly spun the keys on the keyring around on her index finger.

There was absolutely no fucking reason the movement should make Rose’s throat run dry, but it definitely did.

“My moms are outside, and I don’t want to leave them hanging out there for long.”

Shaking herself out of it, she breathed out an incredulous laugh. “Of course your parents came to see you coaching a game.”

They started walking toward the exit, and Abbie shot her a baffled look. “Of course they did.”

Rose merely shook her head, rolling her lips tightly.

It hadn’t even crossed her mind that Abbie’s parents would want to come and support her while she was coaching, because Rose’s parents would never even think, or care, to do something like that. They hadn’t even come to games she’d played in.

But she remembered Caroline and Hannah from back in high school. They’d always been at every single game, often with other family members in tow.

They pushed the doors open to exit back onto the field, immediately encompassed by the people milling about. She was jostled, briefly, in the fray, before she shot someone a dirty look.

And when she turned to find Abbie, she realized the waiting crowd had unwittingly separated them. So, make that double the discontent she had to bite back.

True to Cassie and Nathan’s commentary of being outside, at least, they were right outside. She only had to walk a few feet away, out of the thick of things, to reach them.

“Mom!” Cassie shouted, looking so excited.

The ire she might have had about leaving a little earlier than expected faded at the sight of her daughter. Who was entirely decked out in Red Fox clothing.

She wore an Elliston baseball cap backwards – slightly askew, as it was still too big for her head even when adjusted to the smallest size – and a baggy Red Fox jersey, and Rose felt a smile melt over her face, as she reached for Cassie and hefted her from Nathan onto her own hip.

“Well, look who has the most school spirit.”

“It’s me,” Cassie insisted.

Nathan nodded, proudly. “Did you know the school store has a website? And they sell clothing in kid’s sizes!”

“Did you know that I’m the headmaster here? So, yes, I did.”

“I ordered all of this a few days ago, when you told me you were joining the team again.”

She couldn’t even summon any ire at him, either. Not when he was smiling at her, looking so… happy.

And when she’d told him that she’d decided to work with Abbie as the assistant coach the other day, he’d been so happy for her.

As in, so happy, he’d scooped her up in a hug and spun her around in a circle. “Hell yeah!” He’d said, setting her back down after she’d yelped and demanded he let her go. “You are going to kill this.”

“This is what I got you,” Cassie stated, holding her hand out to Rose, where she was holding one of the medals Rose had won back in high school.

She used her free hand to take it from her, looking it over.

It was from when they’d won states their senior year, and she felt the smile tug at her lips, bouncing Cassie once to readjust her – god, she hated the reminder that she wouldn’t be able to hold her daughter like this for much longer. “Where did you get this? Buy it at a store?”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “No, you silly. Daddy gave it to me.”

Rose turned to look at Nathan. “And where did he find this?”

“In some of the boxes in the attic, last week. I’ve been slowly going through some of the things we never got around to. Had this and a few other things set aside to bring to yours after I’m done, but figured you might want this, now.”

He’d never understood why she’d boxed up the physical evidence of her soccer achievements. And she hadn’t kept them all in the attic. But she’d never been someone that wanted a shrine to her younger self, praising “the good old days” of high school.

Definitely not her high school days. Days that she tried hard to put behind her, when building her adult life.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Abbie still had hers. Where she kept her high school awards now that she’d had such a celebrated adult career.

Driven by her thoughts, she looked up and glanced around, looking for Abbie.

Who hadn’t gone very far, either, apparently. She was standing with her moms, laughing about something. And her parents hadn’t come alone, either, as there were several other people standing with them, who Rose presumed to be her family members.

Abbie didn’t turn to look at her, but Caroline did. She locked eyes with Rose, arching her a slow eyebrow, and something in her gaze jolted through her, discomfortingly.

She closed her fist around the medal, bringing herself back to focus on her family. “Thank you,” she said, arching a look at Nathan.

He smiled back, shrugging. “I thought you’d want it someday.”

“I’m hungry,” Cassie announced, kicking out her feet.

Rose let out a grunt as one of her daughter’s sneakered feet landed with a thoughtless blow against her stomach. Wordlessly, she shifted so Nathan could take her back, and he read her body language easily.

“You want to grab dinner?” He asked.

“Actually, Rose can’t commit to any other plans this evening,” Abbie’s voice came out of absolutely nowhere.

Rose jumped, and they all turned to face her.

She’d sidled up to them, her hands in the front pockets of her windbreaker, as she gave them all a smile.

“I… can’t?” Rose asked, dubiously, narrowing her eyes at Abbie. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m asking you not to,” Abbie answered, so easily, aiming that winning smile right at her, before she added, teasingly, “And you’re my assistant.”

“Coach Abbie! Um. Abbie!” Cassie shouted, and Rose was thrilled she’d transferred Cassie back to Nathan before this moment, because their daughter kicked out her feet multiple times in excitement. Each time, her heels landed against him, and he huffed out breaths with each blow.

“God, the women in my life being soccer players is going to be detrimental to my health,” he groused, jokingly. “But, Cassie’s sentiment goes for me, too. Hey, Coach!”

Abbie grinned back at both of them. “Hello, Schiffs.”

“Are you not going out with your family?” Rose asked, looking over Abbie’s shoulder.

The crowd around them had started to dissipate, as the girls were starting to come out of the locker room and leave with their friends and family. Which made it very easy to see that Abbie’s family was no longer standing where they’d been, waiting for her. No one was there to give Rose any more of those joltingly knowing looks.

Abbie shook her head. “Nope. Because I have plans with my coaching staff.”

She rolled her eyes, hard. “Your coaching staff?”

Abbie’s smile slowly grew even wider. “Yep.” She turned to Nathan and Cassie, a slightly apologetic tinge to her expression. “So, I’m sorry. But I need Rose this evening.”

Abbie needed her this evening.

Rose knew she meant nothing by that, and yet… just the wording of it set Rose on-edge, the possible implication buzzing through her.

Luckily, the loudly disappointed groan her daughter let out managed to quash it.

Nathan gently shushed her. “Cassie, your mom and Abbie have to have some quality coaching time so that they can win the next game.”

Her daughter’s expression furrowed, far too seriously, as she considered his words. “Okay. And I’m going to practice next week,” she announced, exuberantly.

“Can’t wait to see you there,” Abbie held out her hand for a high-five, which Cassie excitedly returned.

Rose leaned in, giving her daughter a quick kiss on the forehead. “Have fun. Love you.”

As soon as Nathan had taken a few steps away, that buzzing feeling of anticipation started to work through her, as she slowly turned to look at Abbie.

“I didn’t realize you and I had such a serious post-game ritual tonight. I could very well have plans, you know. That aren’t my daughter and ex-husband,” she pointed out.

One part of her wanted to mean that. At the very least, in that – Abbie couldn’t just expect that she was going to be available.

But the other part of her, the much bigger part, didn’t really give a fuck that Abbie hadn’t told her about any “plans” ahead of time.

Abbie looked around them, making sure no one was close, before she leaned in slightly to state, “I need a drink.”

Rose choked out a surprised laugh, leaning back to look into Abbie’s eyes, trying to decipher if she’d misheard. “What did you just say?”

Abbie shot her a look, somehow both amused and very much not. “I said: I need a drink,” she enunciated.

“Yeah, okay, I thought that was what you said. I just didn’t expect that after the after-school-special speech you just delivered. It was so inspiring!” She honestly couldn’t believe what she was hearing, given Abbie’s very optimistic and genuinely, as she said, inspiring comments in the locker room.

Also… it was so weird to link the Abbie in her memories, the Abbie of the past, with the woman in front of her.   

“And I meant every single word,” Abbie nodded, intently. “The girls have improved, and they played their hearts out, and I’m proud of them.” She winced, before saying in a whisper, “However, this was my first game as a coach, and we lost, and that is a shitty feeling. And I don’t need a drink, I was being somewhat hyperbolic. But I want to grab a drink and commiserate.”

“Fair point.” And it was precisely how Rose had felt when they’d walked into the locker room, which she decided to admit. “I wondered if I was a shitty person because I didn’t feel super inspired and peppy after that game.”

Abbie’s blue eyes glinted at her. “No. To the girls, and on their behalf, we look on the bright side and focus on the positive things. Between you and me...” She trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows.

Still, Rose hesitated. “And… it’s me that you want to get a drink with tonight?” She asked, skeptically. “Not Norah? Or–” She couldn’t help but grind her teeth for a moment, before she asked, “Daniele?”

“Yes, I want to have a drink with you. You get it. You understand this feeling on a level that they don’t. On a level that they just… can’t.”

Rose stared into her eyes, and – yes. She did get it.

Abbie rocked back on her heels slightly, shrugging. “Plus, I think the best thing for the team – and us – is for you and I to actually spend time together. As in, time that we aren’t coaching, time without our families around. We need to be a cohesive unit, you know?” Abbie said, and it was so earnest.

Rose didn’t feel as earnest. Abbie’s comment felt… innocuous. Innocent.

Rose knew that going down a personal avenue with Abbie was a terrible idea. And she knew that she didn’t even know if she’d want to open a romantic door between them, even if it was on the table.

Because her feelings for Abbie had been so big, and overwhelming, and scary. Obviously, she was no longer a teenager, no longer living in the closet, no longer beholden to her parents. Obviously, a lot had changed.

But going down that road with Abbie – even if it was a possibility, it was a scary one.

Despite knowing all of that, her own desire to spend time with Abbie didn’t feel nearly as innocuous.

But she did find herself nodding in agreement.

“It would be good for us to really get to know one another. As adults,” she said, searching Abbie’s gaze with her own.

“Exactly. So… where do you want to go?” She darted her eyes around them, before lowering her voice to admit, “I should also add that I don’t really want to go anywhere nearby where we could possibly see anyone grabbing dinner with their family.”

Rose arched her a look. “Oh? You don’t want anyone on the team to see you drinking to lament their loss?”

“I know, color me crazy.”

The ghost of a teasing smile remained on her lips as she thought… going to either of their houses wasn’t an option. Abbie’s, because her parents would be there, which eliminated it as an option because they wouldn’t have time to “bond” without family interruption. And Rose’s house…

She thought back to last week, to the night she and Abbie had cleared the air. To them sitting on her couch and sharing a moment.

Also not a great idea.

The lightbulb went off in her head, and she bit her lip in thought, before saying, “I know a place.”

***

“No way,” Abbie breathed from behind her, as she got the fireplace to turn on in her office.

The last thing she wanted was for anyone seeing her actual light on and deciding to knock. After all, it wasn’t that late – barely seven in the evening – and given this was a boarding school, there were always faculty members on campus.

So, fireplace it was.

Luckily, at some point before her tenure, the fireplace had been updated to work on a control panel and she didn’t need to actually build a fire.

Rose turned to look at her, after adjusting the control on the flames as they sparked to life. “What?”

“That is a working fireplace?”

She glanced down at it, before back at Abbie, amused. “Did you think it was a fireplace just for show?”

“How many schools have working fireplaces?” Abbie shot back, reaching up to tug the elastic out of her hair, shaking her head as she carded her fingers through the soft, blonde strands.

The firelight caught on them, making them glow for several long beats, and Rose was caught up in it.

She shook her head, turning on her heel to go over to the locked cabinet in the corner near the window.

“I guess that’s how things worked when you went to public school,” she deliberately used the same snotty tone she’d had as a teenager, aiming a dark smile across the room at Abbie as she slid the small key into the lock, and undid it with a quiet click.

Abbie dropped her head back with a groan. “For the love of god.”

“Must I remind you, Lemon, that Elliston was founded in 1853,” she mustered that same haughty voice. “When the fireplaces actually provided heat, rather than simple aesthetic?”

“You know, I seem to recall you saying that to me the literal day we met. Same tone and everything. Thank you, so much, for the reminder about how dirt-old this place is,” Abbie’s voice took on her own mocking, teasing tone.

She shook her head, breathing out a laugh as she pulled out a bottle of Ledaig 18, then grabbed two of the tumblers hidden away, as well.

Abbie’s mouth dropped open in surprise, her eyes comically widening. “You just keep expensive alcohol locked up here in your office? Is there some sort of problem you have that I need to be concerned about?”

She huffed out a breath, walking back over toward her. “No,” she corrected. “My father always kept a quality scotch in his office.”

So he could pull it out and have a pour with his “associates.”

She set the glasses down with a little more force than she intended, ire snapping through her, as she muttered, “The meeting I was held captive in today would have likely turned into a social gathering if my father was here. They’d have broken out the scotch and had a grand old time in their fucking boys club.”

It felt good to open the bottle for the first time, she thought with a vicious satisfaction. Her father had died before enjoying a single sip of the whiskey he’d bought. And now, Rose was opening it. So she could have a drink with Abbie Parker, her lesbian co-coach.

She poured the golden-brown liquid into the glasses, a dark pleasure settling inside of her with the knowledge that he would be rolling in his grave.

Abbie’s voice – light and unbothered, obviously entirely unaware of what Rose was thinking about – dragged her back to the moment, “God, this is like… a high school Abbie’s dream. Like, a rule-breaking dream.”

“It is?” She asked, baffled, as she turned to hand Abbie a tumbler. “What a ridiculous dream.”

“Come on.” Abbie accepted the glass, shooting her an incredulous stare. “Everyone would have killed to do this. Break into Headmaster Elliston’s office and drink some of his fancy alcohol?”

“Not me.” Rose disagreed under her breath as they settled onto the couch opposite the fire.

The couch itself was well-kept, despite being decades old. All of the furniture in this office was decades old, but had cost thousands of dollars. A piece.

The leather they were sitting on, that was both comfortable and not? At least ten thousand dollars.

An office that reeked of wealth, of rules, of strict composure.

She’d fucking hated being in here when she’d attended this school, and she’d have rather chopped her own hair off in the dark than come in here when she wasn’t being forced to.

Abbie took a sip of the whiskey, nodding as she swallowed and looked around. “Yeah. I mean… the décor leaves a lot to be desired, that’s for sure.”

She seemed to realize what she’d said only after the words were out in the air between them, and she grimaced, turning to look at Rose with wide, apologetic eyes. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to insult you. But I know that a lot of this furniture isn’t stuff you picked out; I remember it from back when we were in high school.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, softly reproaching.

No, Abbie shouldn’t apologize for her honesty. Especially not for saying something Rose absolutely agreed with. Something that made a validation work through her, as she looked around the room again, taking note of all of the little artifacts.

“A lot of this stuff has been amassed over generations of Elliston leadership. And all of the current furniture was brought in by my father.” Her stomach twisted as she slid her eyes over it all. All of the big, polished wood pieces, as she swallowed the rest of her scotch in one big swallow.

“Don’t apologize,” she repeated as she felt the burn work through her body, landing in her stomach, as she said, “I hate it, too. I hate him. Well. Hated, I suppose,” she corrected, mildly.

For a brief moment, she held her breath, the truth of that – maybe the truest thing she’d ever felt – landing heavily in the air between them.

She hadn’t spoken those words aloud, and certainly never in here.

Fuck, though, if it didn’t make her feel powerful.

She latched onto that, holding tight to that power, as she turned to lock eyes with Abbie again. “I’m sure that – that that sounds incredibly cold to you.” She chuckled, mirthlessly. Knowing that Abbie was very likely to judge her for feeling such a visceral hatred in her dad, for reveling in it.

And she didn’t want Abbie to think of her that way. She wanted – so fucking strongly – for the opposite.

But she wouldn’t take it back.

“It doesn’t,” Abbie’s voice was so quiet, reassuring, as her gaze bored into Rose’s.

How did she manage to look so genuine, all of the time? Even right now, when Rose was positive she couldn’t mean it.

She locked her jaw into place, before she turned to reach for the whiskey on the table next to her, pouring herself a little more.

“You gave up your career in professional sports to come back here and be with your parents because your mom was sick, and I’m telling you that I hated my parent,” she shot back, stomach roiling. But the facts were the facts.

And the fact was that Abbie was a better person than she was. Always was, always would be.

Rose could accept that.

Abbie waited until Rose had settled back against the couch, before she asked, “Do you want to know why I played as Abbie Dalton?”

Surprised at the turn in conversation but unfailingly curious, she nodded.

“It’s because,” she rolled her lips, looking away from Rose and into the fire in the fireplace. A frown danced over her face as she explained, “I’d always planned on changing my name to Parker as soon as I could. I was going through the process my freshman year of college, because I was already in North Carolina by the time I’d turned eighteen that August. I was already a starting player. My name – Dalton – was already starting getting some buzz.”

She shifted forward slightly, closing some of the distance that was between them, feeling absolutely hooked.

“Fall semester, my grandfather was hospitalized, so I came home on the weekend to see him. Ran into my dad for the first time in… a while,” Abbie’s voice was so quiet, before she perked up and turned to look at her, eyes shockingly alight. “When you kicked a ball at his head. Which was one of the best visuals in my entire life.”

That same dark satisfaction slid through her at the memory, and she hummed quietly, sipping her whiskey. “I thought he was kidnapping you, so.”

And she remembered that feeling very well, though she hadn’t thought about it in so long. Turning around to see some fucking man grabbing at Abbie.

The grin that had been on her face faded a bit, into the memory, as she recounted, “When I saw him at the hospital, he made the snidest, shittiest comment about how he was actually happy I was changing my name to Parker, so that the notoriety I’d achieve as a dyke soccer player wouldn’t besmirch his precious Dalton legacy.”

The acidity in Abbie’s voice shocked her. The anger in it… she didn’t think she’d ever heard or seen that kind of disgust from Abbie. Not even directed at her when Abbie had thought Rose made her a cheater.

No, this was a special kind of hatred. Something that clearly existed inside of Abbie somewhere deep down, somewhere she kept private.

Somewhere that Rose understood, very much.

“I’d wanted to be a Parker since I was ten years old; legally, I’ve been a Parker since I was eighteen,” Abbie said with a thoughtful sigh. “But I played wearing the Dalton name to rub my dad’s fucking face in it for over a decade.”

Abbie turned to look at her once more, that intent, serious look in her eyes. “You don’t need to be worried about my judging you for hating your dad, Rose. Because I detest mine.”

Was it wrong that Rose felt a heated spark work through her at the raw, dark emotion in Abbie’s tone? Probably. It probably said a lot about her.

But her throat was dry, and it was so very true.

She took another sip of her drink, pushing back against that feeling, and when she lowered her glass, she found the words tripping and falling out of her mouth before she could register them.

“Do you remember Tessa? The girl…” She trailed off, letting out a long, deep breath, at the very memory of her.

Again, not something Rose often thought about in adulthood. Because Tessa – and everything that came along with her – was something she’d worked hard to put in a box.

“She was the goalie before me. The reason you hated me–” Abbie cut herself off with a sharp gasp. “Holy hell! You and Tessa were a thing?!”

A dry laugh worked out of her throat at the shocked, wide-eyed stare Abbie gave her, at the way she dragged a hand through her hair as the realization struck her.

“We… were,” she settled on, before narrowing her eyes, “Sort of.”

She dropped her head back, closing her eyes as the past played through her mind.

And unlike her past with Abbie – where everything was in vibrant, well-defined color and sharp edges – the past with Tessa… it was gray, and dulled, and blurred, because of… everything else.

“We were never really together,” she said, honestly. “We were just… really good friends. I didn’t have a lot of friends, even before you were here. But Tessa – she wasn’t like you.”

“Um… okay?” Abbie breathed back, both laughing and frowning. “Is that an insult or–”

“No. It’s just a fact.” She rolled her lips, closing her eyes as she sifted through her thoughts. “You were – you are – like… the opposite of me. Tessa was really similar. She wasn’t unfriendly, but she wasn’t everyone’s best friend, either.”

When Abbie had come into the team, she was like the sun. This magnet that everyone buzzed around.

Tessa had been, like Rose, a little prickly – not what she’d thought in her teenage years, but how she identified it in retrospect. She’d liked to do a good job. She was focused. She didn’t have a desire to get caught up with anyone else on the team, in their dramas or slumber parties.

She’d been a year older than Rose, and in her sophomore year, she’d started really settling into a friendship. A close friendship.

“I realized, because of her, because of… of what I felt around her. What I felt for her, that I was a lesbian. Because it was exactly what my family had started pushing me to feel toward Nathan since we’d hit thirteen.”

“Wow. I didn’t…” Abbie had to clear her throat, shaking her head. “I mean, we’ve talked about how you’re a lesbian, obviously. And that you knew it in college. But we never – you knew it by the time you were, what, fifteen? Sixteen?”

Rose’s stomach tied into such tied knots, it was hard to take a deep breath through them. But, she nodded. “Yeah,” she affirmed, softly. “I did.”

The sympathy was already starting to edge onto Abbie’s face, her big, blue eyes going so soft, and Rose had to turn away from her. She, instead, looked down at her whiskey.

“Look, if you’re going to get soft and sweet with me…” She couldn’t finish whatever the possible threat was.

She wouldn’t be able to finish this story?

This story that she’d never told anyone before, but she found that she wanted – so desperately. Needed, actually – to vocalize?

“I’d like to tell this to you, Abbie,” she managed, her throat tight. “So that you can actually understand me. So we can actually know one another. But I need you to just let me say it, without any back and forth.”

Because she found, right now, that the person she wanted to share this with was Abbie.

There was something so right about it, it settled in her very bones.

Abbie rolled her lips tightly, before she offered Rose a short nod. “Okay. Whatever you want.”

She mirrored the nod, inhaling long and deep through her nose. And she hadn’t expected the next thing out of her mouth, either. “I wasn’t upset about being a lesbian.”

Shaking her head at herself, she scoffed out a derisive laugh.

“I mean, I knew I wasn’t going to tell my parents. But… it made sense to me. For me. And there was just this – this moment, at the end of the school year. My sophomore year. Where we were sitting next to each other, and our hands touched, and… and I knew we both felt it. So, on the last day of school, when all of the kids left that weren’t boarding for the summer, I invited Tessa to my room. So we could just – talk. Or… kiss. Or, I don’t know. Just, so we could have real privacy to figure it out.”

Her heart pounded a little harder at the memory. And not at the youthful exhilaration, but in dread. Because there were some memories, some experiences, that she couldn’t completely get over. Maybe mentally, but her body kept the score.

“We did kiss,” she haltingly said, feeling her nerves twist together at the very memory.

Abbie didn’t say anything, true to her agreement, but her lips pulled into a sweet small smile. A sweet moment of support for young Rose.

It made her own heart ache even more.

“And then my dad came in, followed by two benefactors – people who gave so much money to Elliston, that when they wanted a tour with their daughter because she was starting here soon, my dad did it personally.” That was such a rarity, she hoped Abbie could understand just how much money would have been on the line for Elliston. Just how much her father had felt his reputation had been on the line.

That moment of terror was seared into her mind – into her body’s autonomous response – forever. Her heart pounded at it even now.

Sitting on her bed and kissing Tessa for the first time… only for her father to use his master key to open her door, deciding to use his own daughter’s experience to showcase to their donors. Their right-wing, extremely conservative donors.

She could still feel it, the horror and mortification and shame – as well as the fear when she saw the look on her father’s face.

“I never saw Tessa again, after that.”

She’d ran out of Rose’s room after her father had yelled at her, and she’d been expelled not long after.

She drew in a shaky breath, staring dismally into the fire.

“Especially because I was sent to Circle of Mercy the day after.”

Even just the name of the organization made her feel sick to her stomach.

She took a sharp breath, before swallowing down the second glass of whiskey, which did nothing to calm the violent churning inside of her.

“A deeply religious youth group in Ohio,” she explained, flatly. “That’s where I was that summer. It’s why I wasn’t at any of the practices you’d come to or team meet-ups.”

“Conversion camp?!” Abbie’s shock and outrage broke through, before she slapped her hand over her own mouth. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted me to be quiet, I just… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she managed to breathe out, her throat tight. “But – essentially, yes. It was the–” her breath caught in her throat, as she felt the backs of her eyes burn, “– the worst time of my life. Even marrying Nathan, living a lie for all those years – Circle of Mercy was…”

She didn’t even have the words for what that summer had been for her. At least, nothing more than, “I spent the whole summer thinking it was so ironic. They were so focused on heaven, they didn’t care at all about the fact that they’d created hell on earth.”

She let out a rough breath, reaching up to swipe over her eyes with the back of her hand.

“When I came back to school, I went up to Nathan and asked him out. He had – still has – no idea where I was that summer. My parents didn’t want to tell anyone the truth, either. But… Nathan was the safe option, then. And gave into it. Into that future my parents had built out for me – because maybe I knew I was a lesbian, but I could never go back to that place.” Not physically, not mentally… she’d had to shut that part of herself off. “Being with Nathan, even if he was a man, was infinitely better than that.”

“Rose…” Abbie breathed out, and she felt her inch minutely closer.

But she shook her head.

She was so close to laying all of it out on the line, and she just… she just needed to finish. She needed – for this one time in her life – to say it all.

“Can you imagine how I felt, having just come back from Circle of Mercy, having just resolved that I couldn’t ever be a lesbian… and I walk through the main hall on the first day of school. Only to see you?”

She turned to look at Abbie, searchingly. Who stared back, obviously baffled.

Shaking her head as a laugh – a little crazed – worked up from her throat. “Seeing you standing there with your gay moms, who were so… so fucking proud of you. Seeing you there with your parents who – who loved you?”

She hadn’t known what to even do with that. She hadn’t known how to process it. How to accept it. How to make peace with what was being flaunted in front of her.

“Not only that,” she continued, dropping her head into her hands, still feeling the dregs of that wild, insane laughter. Because the irony truly was too much. “But there you were. You.”

She worked her jaw back and forth, her laugh turning brittle and dry.

“I’d lived through the worst time of my life, and I made it back. I came out on the other end. But there was no reprieve. Not even a little bit. Because your gay moms were being rubbed in my face, and you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Her breath left her on a desperate whoosh, as she stared at Abbie.

Who was breathing just as heavily as she was, sitting there. Frozen. Shocked.

And she pushed, “Can you even begin to fathom that kind of torment? Lemon?” The rawness of it all, of the literal fucking torment she’d felt back then, seeped into her voice, as she turned away from Abbie.

Unsure if she felt relieved to have vocalized this to her or mortified. Unsure if she wanted to laugh or cry.

“The kicker of it all, you know, is that my parents were never even that religious, themselves.”

Another mirthless laugh echoed out of her, painfully scraping against her throat.

“Sure, they’re “religious.”” She said with air quotes. “But the thing they cared about above anything else was image. And money. That was the worst thing to them, that I was besmirching their image. That I might be ruining their legacy. That their ultra-wealthy, ultra-conservative peers would look down on them or shun them.”

She might have preferred if they were at least super religious, themselves. At least she would have known that everything they’d put her through was because of their own beliefs.

A shuddering breath worked through her, as she looked down at her empty glass. Watching the way the firelight reflected from it.

“So, yeah. I hate him.” And it wasn’t in the past.

Her father might be dead, but her hatred of him remained alive and well.

She whipped her head up, adrenaline coursing through her veins when Abbie whipped the crystal tumbler in her hand into the fire. The glass shattered, glinting in the flames, and she snapped her entire body to face Abbie.

“What the hell was that?” She demanded.

There was a fire in Abbie’s expression that she’d never seen before, and she knew it was for her.

Not sexual, not physical. But something deeply emotional, something that she felt land inside of her, and settle, even before she heard the emotion in Abbie’s voice, “I fucking hate him, too. And I refuse to drink out of a glass that he drank from. Do it,” Abbie encouraged. “Throw it.”

“You’re crazy,” she stated, gripping the tumbler tighter, the absurdity of what Abbie was saying echoing through her.

“I’m not,” Abbie denied, and Rose could feel the energy pouring off of her in waves. Like the emotion Abbie had been infused with was vibrating through her, barely contained. “I’m livid. And I’m sad. And I hate that while you’re trying to redirect the Elliston legacy, you’re stuck sitting in his office, filled with things he picked out.”

Rose looked around, and it was only when Abbie had said the words like that, that she realized – yes. That was exactly why she hated being in this office so much.

Why it never felt like her own.

She’d inherited it and hadn’t really changed it, because… that was the way it was done. She was playing catch-up for the last six months; she hadn’t had time to waste on redecorating.

She gripped the glass in her own hand, looking down at it.

Picturing the times she’d seen her father drink from it.

And she whipped it into the fire, the same way Abbie had.

Something inside of her broke free watching it shatter, something thrilling. Something… something she hadn’t even known she’d needed to break free.

And she laughed with it, looking up at Abbie.

Who smiled brightly, proudly back at her. “Did it feel good?”

“It did,” she agreed, breathing heavily. “It really did.”

Abbie popped up from the couch, gesturing to one of the sculptures on one of the shelves on the wall. “This thing is hideous. There’s no way you picked it out.”

Rose shook her head, frowning up at it. “Nope… that was, I believe, put here by my grandfather.”

“Did you like him?” Abbie asked.

Rose recoiled, frowning even deeper. “No.”

He’d been like her father, only… older. Stuffier. Sharper.

She jumped back as Abbie reached out, and slid the weird, ugly small sculpture onto the floor, where it broke into three pieces.

“Abbie!” She shouted, dragging her hand through her hair, unsure if she was admonishing or if she was just… thrilled.

Abbie lifted her eyebrows, encouragingly. “What do you hate the most? In this room?”

Feeling her heart racing in her chest, she gamely looked around. “The desk. But that’s solid oak – I don’t think we can destroy it.”

“… fair point.”

“I also hate that table,” she pointed across the room. She could picture the way her dad had sat there, placing his tumbler on the table when she’d been begging him not to send her away.

Abbie nodded, then reached down and gripped the bottom of her windbreaker and pulled it off.

Rose nearly choked on her breath, the exhilaration pulsing through her. “What are you doing?”

Abbie stood there, golden hair falling just past her shoulders, her skin all goldenly tanned from the summer, in a black sports bra and red shorts, and Rose’s throat ran dry, her fingers shaking as the want laced through her.

“I’m not going to risk tearing up my jacket on any sharp pieces of wood,” Abbie answered, like obviously. “And I think I might need some range of motion.”

“Right,” she murmured back, taking in a long beat to stare at Abbie, transfixed.

They were here, in her father’s office – destroying his beloved items?! – and Abbie was beautiful and hot and shirtless, and…

Rose stood, reaching down to lift off her own jacket, taking a deep satisfaction in the way Abbie’s eyes widened, then traced over her.

“I’m wearing more than you are,” she stated, dropping her hands to her hips.

While Abbie was only in a bra, she was wearing a shirt. It just happened to be a shirt that clung to her like a second skin.

“Umm… we wear things differently,” Abbie answered, a little breathy.

She felt that lace through her, satisfaction and want twisting together.

“Come on. Property destruction,” she reminded Abbie, arching her a sharp eyebrow as she brushed by.

Allowing herself the slightest contact of Abbie’s bare stomach against her arm, and they both sharply inhaled.

And no. She’d never before felt a freedom like this.

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