My gaze snapped to the source, and an unfettered grin spread across my face when I saw Scarlett jump from her seat between Carina and a blond whom I assumed was Brooklyn.
I’d played in front of royalty, celebrities, and heads of state, but hearing Scarlett cheer for me beat every other match a thousandfold. It wasn’t even close.
She waved, her face glowing.
I almost waved back until I saw Vincent returning her greeting. He must’ve thought his sister was cheering for him alone.
Right. No public displays of affection allowed yet.
I shook off a twinge of disappointment and refocused on the match.
A few minutes later, Vincent blocked a goal attempt by the other team. An audible wave of appreciation rippled across the bleachers.
I hated to admit it, but the bastard really was good.
Soon, we tied with the Greens again.
Five minutes left. All we needed was one more goal.
Four minutes.
Three minutes.
I finally stole possession of the ball from Rafael. I kicked it from the left wing, and—
“Gooooallll!!”
The stadium shook from the force of the audience’s jubilation. The Greens never recovered, the clock wound down, and we won five to four.
“Yes!” Vincent pumped his fist in the air. “That’s fucking right!”
The sweet thrill of victory streaked through my veins. It was blazing hot, I was dripping sweat, and I’d lost my temper in a deeply public way, but none of that mattered.
We won. We’d raised a shit ton of money, and I got to savor Rafael’s scowl as he slunk off the pitch.
It was the perfect ending to a rocky day.
I found Scarlett in the crowd again. She smiled at me, her face soft with pride and something else that made my pulse race.
Vincent was too busy signing autographs to notice, so I let myself smile back.
The noise around us dulled into an indistinguishable roar. No matter where we were or how many people surrounded us, she commanded my attention like a lighthouse in a storm.
Bright. Beautiful. Unwavering.
I started walking toward her, but a Sport for Hope employee shepherding the group of kids I saw earlier stopped me halfway.
“Hi, Asher. I’m sorry to keep you. You must be exhausted,” she said apologetically. “But the kids are big fans, and they’d like a few autographs and pictures. Is that okay?”
“Of course. Today is for them.” I tore my gaze away from Scarlett and smiled at the group. They were adorable. “Who wants a picture first?”
After much clamoring and excitement, I finished signing every autograph and taking every photo. By then, the stadium had emptied, but when I checked my phone, I saw a text from Scarlett saying she was by one of the side exits.
I grabbed my duffel bag and headed to meet her. As promised, she was waiting in the area between the stadium and the car park. I didn’t see Vincent, Carina, or Brooklyn, but my anticipation over stealing a few moments alone with her—as well as my warm and fuzzy feelings from interacting with the kids earlier—disappeared as soon as I saw who she was talking to.
Rafael.
CHAPTER 33SCARLETT
I didn’t expect a casual charity football match to devolve into a brawl.
I didn’t expect my brother and my secret non-boyfriend boyfriend to team up against my ex-boyfriend (though that was satisfying to watch).
Most of all, I didn’t expect said ex-boyfriend to seek me out after the match and try to hug me like he hadn’t dumped me faster than yesterday’s trash after my accident.
“Scarlett! It’s so good to see you.” He reached for me. I stepped back before he made contact. His smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. “You’re here to support your brother, I see.”
I responded with a tight curve of my lips. I may have released my bitterness toward him after extensive therapy, but that didn’t mean I wanted to talk to him.
Unfortunately, I was stuck here waiting for my brother, my friends, and Asher. Carina and Brooklyn were in the loo, and Vincent and Asher were probably still signing autographs. I hadn’t wanted to sit alone in the stadium like a loser, so I hung around the exit instead.
In hindsight, I should’ve stayed in the stadium. I didn’t think Rafael would be bold enough to approach me in front of Vincent, especially after what happened on the pitch.
How did he escape the people clamoring for pictures and autographs? He wasn’t as famous as Asher and Vincent in the UK, but he was recognizable enough.
“I just wanted to say hi,” Rafael said when I didn’t encourage further conversation. He swept his eyes over me, his attention lingering on my bare legs and chest. Once upon a time, I would’ve been flattered. Now, my skin crawled beneath his scrutiny. “You look great.”
