Kulti

“Where’s Coach Kulti?”

“He’s taking time off for the rest of the season,” Gardner answered before walking off.

I stretched my arms up over my head to really get a good stretch into those shoulder muscles always nagging me. All the while pretending like I didn’t hear the group talking twenty feet away.

“He’s been here all season, and now he’s decided to take time off?”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Really?”

“I bet Sal knows what’s going on.”

“Duh, she knows. I’m sure they spent last night together.”

A couple of my teammates giggle-laughed. Whores.

“You know, I heard she went by Cordero’s office and he gave her an ultimatum: Stop seeing him or he’d trade her.”

“No way! What’d she say?”

“Oh, I have no idea, but I think that’s why they were planning on benching her in the semi-final the other night. If that would have been me, and they told me I wasn’t starting, I don’t even know what I would’ve done. But not Sal, she just stood there. I didn’t see her bat an eyelash.”

“No shit. She’s never upset; I don’t think she feels anything. I know I’ve never seen her cry.”

Yep, still not looking.

“Me neither. Her entire life revolves around playing. She’s a robot or something.”

And that was my cue to zone the group out. To zone every single girl I’d at one point or another helped, including Genevieve.

A robot. They thought I was a robot.

I took a breath.

Everything was fine.

I only had one more game to go. That was it. Five more practices to get through before the season was over.

What was that saying? When life gives you lemons, go to a taco stand.

When I pulled into the driveway that day, there was a mountain bike off to the side, and next to it was the German. The Audi was nowhere in sight.

“I didn’t know you were here,” I said, getting out. “I took a yoga class at the gym already; otherwise I would have come home and made you do some with me.” I wasn’t even joking either. His butt in downward dog… God help me. It seemed to be one of the only things that could cheer me up lately.

Kulti dusted off said bubble butt as he got to his feet. “I’ve only been here an hour.”

From anyone else, the comment would have sounded like he was impatient, but he didn’t look anxious at all. “Did you ride your bike all the way over?” I asked, eyeing the black mountain bike I’d never seen before.

“Yes,” he said, taking my bag from me. “I bought it this morning.”

I followed him up the stairs and handed him the keys to open the door. He left my bag in the exact same place I usually had it and set my dad’s hat on the appropriate hook. My dad had said I wasn’t allowed to ever wash that damn Corona hat.

“I’m going to hop in the shower. I’ll be back out soon.”

In no time, I was in and out. By the time I made it back, he was on the couch watching television. I grabbed a protein bar and took a seat on the other end.

Kulti tilted his head and raked his gaze from my face down, down, down to land on the white tank top I’d put on over a clean sports bra, and then kept right on burning a visual path to my thighs. He took a quick breath I almost missed. Those amber eyes slid back up to my face.

“What is it?” I scrunched up my face, expecting the worst.

“Do those freckles go everywhere?”

He was talking about the freckles on my chest and my stupid, stupid nipples reacted as if he were calling them to attention. “Umm…”

A tendon in his neck flexed, and Kulti gave me what could have been considered a grimace. “I’ll behave.” A shaky sigh made its way out of his chest and reached straight into mine. “I need to tell you what my lawyer said.”

“Is it bad news?” With my luck lately, I shouldn’t expect any different.

“No. She looked over your contract, drew up our own, and she’ll be sending that to Cordero tomorrow with a check to buy you out.”

There were so many keywords in one sentence. Leaving the Pipers was really happening. Jesus Christ. “That’s all?”

“Yes.”

It would all be over soon. The reminder that Kulti was paying to get me out of the Pipers made my stomach feel just the slightest bit weird. It was happening. Oh man. “I—“

“Don’t say anything about your contract.” He shot me an even look. “I had no idea how much it was worth, and frankly, it was insulting once she told me the number.”

To him it would seem like chump change. Well, to most professional athletes it would definitely seem like nothing. What could you do? I enjoyed playing, and I made ends meet with what I did with Marc. It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t need a luxury car, a massive house or name-brand things to make me happy. But it was the thing he said about how I would do it for him if the tables were turned, that kept me from kicking up a huge stink. He was right. I would buy him out if he were in my shoes, so I wasn’t going to be a huge hypocrite about it. Maybe I could pay him back somehow later on.

“Has your agent heard back from any of the teams?” he wanted to know.

I shook my head. “No. She told me to be patient. Chances are, I won’t get any offers until the season is over, so we’ll see.” I gave him a brave smile that I only partially felt. “I’m going to try not to worry about it. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. If not, then… I’ll figure something out. This isn’t the end of the world.”

“It isn’t,” he agreed.

I sighed and decided to change the subject. “Everyone was asking where you were today.”

Kulti snickered. “I was very disappointed not to be there,” he deadpanned, which made me laugh.

“Yeah, right. What did you do instead?”

“I bought my bike and went for a long ride,” Kulti explained.

He triggered my memory, and I suddenly remembered what I’d been meaning to ask. “Hey I kept forgetting to bring it up, but where did you go those two days you missed practice? When I texted you and you didn’t respond. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“I was home.” Kulti glanced up at the ceiling.

“So you were just ignoring my text messages?” The fact he didn’t even try and bullshit me made me respect him a little more.

He lowered his gaze to side-eye me. “I was furious with you.”

If I remembered correctly, I’d done the same thing when I’d been angry with him for being weird in front of Franz and Alejandro. Bah. I reached over and patted his knee. “Well like I told you in my text, I’m sorry for what I said that day. I was frustrated, and I didn’t mean it.”

“I know that now.” He blinked. “You aren’t a quitter, and I wouldn’t let you give up anyway.”

Talking about those nearly back-to-back conversations made my eye twitch. “Don’t be a dick and accuse me of sleeping with your friend then.”

Kulti made a face that was almost remorseful. Almost. “I was… agitated. I didn’t like the idea of you spending time with him in secret. It bothered me.”

I’m not sure why it took me so long to understand what had upset him, why Franz and I practicing bothered him so much. Was this real? If he wasn’t full of crap about what he was saying, a lot of things finally made sense. Why he was so adamant about us not going on dates with other people when Sheena had suggested. The face he made when I’d told him about my ex.

“I don’t like the idea of you being with another man.”

I will not smile. I will not smile. “I wouldn’t like the idea of you spending time with another woman and not telling me about it either.” There, I said it. I just went right out and said it. All right. I cleared my throat, bit both my lips at the same time and shrugged. “There isn’t anything wrong with that. I thought you were just being an asshole about Franz. I sure as hell don’t like thinking about you being with other women, or even being reminded of your ex-wife, if I’m even allowed to say that. I know I don’t look like the women you’re usually interested in, or dress like the women you used to date, but you know that and you’re still here. That has to count for something,” I told him honestly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he claimed.

“You can say that all you want, but you told me that you are the way you are and you’re never going to change, so I’m going to tell you the same thing. I am the way I am, and I’m never going to change either. I wasn’t built for a whole bunch of drama, Rey. Everything going on right now, this is it. I’m maxed out. I want a steady, stable life. When I commit to something, I’m in all the way. I don’t share, or even play around with the idea of infidelity. You’re my friend right now, but I don’t want something to happen that makes me want to move on with my life. I don’t want to be forced to pretend like these last few months haven’t happened. You mean too much to me.”

Maybe I was expecting him to get all smug about what I said, but he didn’t. Instead, that intense expression that usually lived on his face reached a different level. He gave me one of those stares that made the hairs on my arms stand up. “You say that as if there were anyone else in this world I would want. You have no idea what I feel for you.” He blinked and spat out something I never would have expected. “There is no gray area for me where you’re concerned. I don’t share, and I expect nothing less from you.”

I… what in the hell do you say to that? What? What could you possibly say? It was psycho sure, but it didn’t bother me. I’d been the teenager that drew mustaches on his ex-girlfriends’ faces for months when their pictures would come up in magazines I looked through.

I swallowed and stared at that lightly lined face, at his crow’s feet and the lines under his eyes. He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. It was plain and simple.

“You never said or did anything to let me know you saw me as more than a friend,” I explained, making sure we were eye-to-eye.

The German didn’t look exactly appeased by my observation. He licked his lips and leaned back against the couch, eyeing me with an expression that was part aggravation and part something else. “What would you have done if I’d said something?”

The hell? “Not believed you.” Why would I? We’d been so hot and cold; I never understood what the hell was going through his head.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “That’s your reason. What would I gain from telling you the first moment I realized you were meant to be mine? Nothing. You’re supposed to protect what you love, Sal. You taught me that. I didn’t wake up one day and know I didn’t want to live without your horrible temper. I saw so much of me in you at first, but you aren’t like me at all. You’re you, and I will go to my grave before I let anyone change any part of you. I know that without a doubt in my mind. This,” he pointed between us. “This is what matters. You are my gift, my second chance, and I will cherish you and your dream. I will protect both of you.

“I’ve been waiting, and I will keep on waiting until the time is right. You are my equal, my partner, my teammate, my best friend. I’ve done so many stupid things that you’ve made me regret—things I hope you will forgive me for and look beyond— but this, waiting a little longer for the love of my life, I can do.

“You are the most honest, warm, loving person I know. Your loyalty and friendship amazes me every day. I have never wanted anything more in my life than I want your love, and I don’t want to share that with anyone. I haven’t done a single thing in my life to deserve you, schnecke, but I will never give up on you, and I won’t let you give up on me.”

And wasn’t that the shit of it?

Someone could tell you that they loved you every day, but still lie and cheat. Or they could never say those three words, but be there for you every day and be more than you ever wanted or dreamed. He wasn’t warm or cuddly, quiet or particularly nice to others, but he was nice to me, and in my heart I knew he would stand by me every time I needed him.

When he left a little later, I lay in my bed and cried two tears. That was it; because it all seemed too good to be true and there were things I hadn’t told him that could change how he felt about me.

What would I do if he changed his mind?

The Pipers final game against the Ohio Blazers had finally arrived, and I had the jitters.

“You’re going to win, stop worrying.”

I blew out a loud breath from my side of the car. He’d offered to have his driver take us to the stadium that afternoon. He didn’t have to leave early, the doors didn’t open for at least another hour; but Kulti did what Kulti wanted to do and for some reason, he wanted to go at the same time I did.

You’re going to win.

I was so lucky someone cared about my career so much. Most girls could only wish to be this lucky.

That was the problem though.

As the days counted down toward the big final game, I became more and more nervous. Kulti hadn’t acted any differently. He hadn’t tried kissing me since that afternoon outside of my car. When he’d come over to my place, we’d do what we always did and in the middle of his visit, he’d ask me how practice went. Twice we went outside and volleyed the ball back and forth, but that had been it. Except for that one night when he said things to me I never could have dreamed up, he’d been the close-mouthed man I was used to spending time with. Before he’d left, he’d promised to give me time and space to think and focus on what was the most important: the final game.

I still couldn’t help but ask myself what was going to happen after the game.

What if I didn’t get on another team? What if I was injured today? What if I blew my knee out in the off-season? Or the next season?

What would I do then?

The logical part of me knew that I was freaking out about nothing. It wasn’t totally unusual. When I was anxious in situations like these, my mind made up a bunch of other crap to stress about too. Of course this thing between Kulti and I was at the top of my list.

It all weighed on my chest like a ticking time bomb.

What if.

What if.

What if.

He nudged my thigh playfully with the back of his balled up hand. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried, I’m just thinking about stuff.”

“Lies.”

I shot him a look and leaned against the seat, thinking and stressing.

He let out a deep sigh. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

I bit my lips and took in that soft crease between his eyebrows, the color of his eyes, the way the lines that bracketed his mouth deepened in worry. How could I go back to my life if this thing between us didn’t work out? I’d been young and angry when I’d had a huge crush on the man I only knew on paper and television. It hadn’t been real. But this was real. This Rey was real and kind when he wasn’t a major pain in the ass.

I couldn’t get rid of the apprehensive knot taking a poop in my stomach. This wasn’t a ‘what if’ I wanted to deal with. So screw it. Maybe the best thing to do would be for me to get this worry over with before the game.

“What’s going to happen when I can’t play anymore?” I asked him, shoving my hands between my thighs so he couldn’t see them shaking.

I heard him shift in his seat. The leather creaked and then continued creaking as he settled in. “What are you babbling about?”

“What are you going to do when I can’t play anymore? My knee might only have a few more years left in it. What will happen then?” I asked, eyes going to the roof of the car because there was no way I could handle his face in that moment.

“That’s what’s stressing you out?” His voice was low and too calm.

“Yeah. Mostly. On top of everything else.”

“Sal, look at me.” I let my head drop to the side so I could look at him as he spoke. In a plain white T-shirt with a check mark on it, fitted faded jeans and his favorite pair of black and green shoes, he was almost surreal. It just made what I was asking worse.

I was sitting in the backseat of a car with Reiner ‘The King’ Kulti on the way to the WPL final game, asking him if he was still going to love me once I couldn’t play anymore. Good God. Was I really bringing this crap up now? I changed my mind. I didn’t want to know yet.

I didn’t want to ever know where our limits stood.

“Sal.”

The car slowed to a stop. Behind Kulti’s head, the window showed the outline of the entrance I was supposed to be walking through.

“I’m stressed, I’m sorry. We’ll talk later, all right?”

He looked at me for what felt like a long time but was more than likely just a few seconds before finally giving me a grave nod, excusing me from the hole I’d dug for myself.

I couldn’t breathe, and I needed to focus. My hands were still shaking, and I was more nervous than I’d been since I was a teenager playing in my first U-17 game. Life would still go on regardless of what happened, I reminded myself. Swallowing hard, I smiled at the German. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it,” he responded, his face still ultra-serious.

Get it together, Sal. Focus, focus, focus. “Find me after the game?” I asked.

“Yes.” He said a word in German I thought meant ‘always’ but I didn’t want to really think about it.

I flashed him a smile and got out of the car. Just as I was about to slam it closed, Kulti piped up, “Focus!”

There are some games that I’ll sit back and recall like I was a fan in the stands watching the action.

The first half went slow and no one scored. There was nothing memorable about it.

In the second half, a light was burning under both teams’ asses. Defense and offense, both teams were on it. The game took a turn for the vicious by the time the fourth yellow card was thrown up; one was Harlow’s and two were mine. We hustled, we sweat. We ran and we fought against the Blazers.

And in the last fifteen minutes of the second half, a team scored.

It wasn’t us.

We couldn’t manage to get a solid hold on the ball at any point afterward.

And we lost. It was that simple.

We freaking lost.

It was like having your dog eat your homework. Losing reminded me of when you’re typing something in a document and then your computer restarts on its own. Or baking a cake and it doesn’t rise.

Using the word ‘crushing’ might have been a little extreme, but it was the truth. For me, at least. I was crushed.

Watching the other team yelling and cheering, hugging each other…

Honestly, I wanted to punch each of them in the face and follow that up with a good cry. You don’t always win and that’s the truth with everything ever, but…

We lost.

I pressed my closed fists to the bones above my eyebrows after time had ended. I looked up into the stands; the disappointment was apparent on so many people’s faces. I had to look away, watching our fans was chewing up my stomach. Pipers were scattered around the field, looking just as dazed as I felt. No one could believe what had just happened. I definitely couldn’t.

I swallowed and realized that this was the last time I’d be on this field.

I choked up.

I’d lost. We’d lost.

My family was in the audience. Marc and Simon were in the crowd someplace. My German was too.

Pressure squeezed my lungs as I made my feet move. They took me away from the opposing players celebrating, oblivious to the inner hell I was going through. The loss was bitter in my mouth and definitely in my soul. I shook a few hands, gave a couple of the girls on the Ohio team a hug and congratulated them on their win.

But Jesus, it was hard.

Everyone deals with loss differently. Some people need consolation, some people get angry, and others want to be left the hell alone. I was the type that needed some space.

If only I’d been faster, or gotten where I was needed instead of being busy taking my frustration out on a player that had tripped me…

I spotted Harlow with her hands clasped behind her head, cursing under her breath. She was still in the same place she’d been when the clock had run out. Jenny was even further away, hugging another Piper who looked like she was crying.

We’d lost.

And that loss bubbled in my throat.

“Sal!”

I scratched my cheek and turned around to see one of the opposing players walking toward me. She was a younger girl who had been all over me during the game, quick and creative with her feet. I mustered a smile for her, slowing my retreat into all-out mourning.

“Hey, would you mind trading jerseys with me?” she asked with a sweet grin.

Yeah I was a sore loser, but I wasn’t a turd. “Sure, sure,” I said, pulling mine up over my head.

“I hope this doesn’t make me sound like a total dork,” she said, taking her jersey off. “But I love you.”

I had just finished taking the sweaty top off when she said it, and I couldn’t help but grin a little.

The other player had her hands up over her head, the material around her wrists when she stopped moving. “That came out all wrong. You’re a big inspiration for me. I just wanted to let you know. I’ve been following your career since you were on the U-17 team.”

This girl was younger than me, but she didn’t look like a teenager either. Hearing that I inspired her… well, it made me feel good. I wasn’t any less frustrated or disappointed that we’d lost, but I guess it made it a little bit more bearable.

A little.

“Thank you so much.” I handed her my Pipers jersey. “Hey, you’ve got great footwork, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

She flushed and handed over her red and black top. “Thanks.” Someone yelled something and she glanced back, holding up a hand in a ‘give me a minute’ sign. “I need to get going but really, great game. I’ll see you next season.”

Next season. Blah. “Yeah, good game. Take care.”

Melancholy hit me hard, really hard. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

I wasn’t going to cry, damn it. I never cried when we lost, at least not since I’d been a little kid.

“Sal!” My dad’s voice cut through a hundred others.

Two quick looks around, several more “to the right!” shouts from him and I spotted my family. Dad’s upper body was hanging over the barrier, hands planted to keep him from falling onto the field as he yelled while my mom and sister stood behind him. Ceci looked embarrassed.

I sniffed and made my way over, scrounging up a smile that could only be meant for them. There were other people yelling out my name and I waved, but I walked as fast as I could toward my family, needing to get off the field before the presentation of the championship trophy began.

Grabbing the first rungs of the barrier, I hoisted myself up to plant my feet on the concrete foundation and stood up, getting wrapped in a hug the instant I was standing. “You couldn’t have done any better,” Dad said in Spanish, straight into my ear.

Don’t cry.

“Thanks, Pa.”

“You’re always my MVP,” he added as he pulled away, hands on my shoulders. His smile was sad for a moment before he squeezed my shoulders and made a face. “Have you been working out more? Your shoulders are bigger than mine.”

That only made me want to cry even more, and the noise that came out of my mouth let him know how hard this moment was for me.

My mom finally pushed my dad to the side with a huff. “You played so well,” she said in Spanish, kissing my cheek. Her eyes were watery, and I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through her head. She never said anything, but I knew big games like this were always hard on her. Things with my grandpa were an open wound that I wasn’t sure would ever heal.

“Gracias, mami.” I kissed her cheek in return.

She patted my face and took a step back.

My little sister on the other hand just stood there with her usual smart-ass smirk on her face, shrugging her thin shoulders. “Sorry you lost.”

From her, I would take what I could get. “Thanks for coming, Ceci.” I gave her the best smile I could while I tried dealing with how I’d let everyone down.

The noises on the field were getting louder, and I knew I needed to get off the field as soon as possible. “I should go before they start. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

They knew me well enough to know that I needed the night to decompress and get over this. One night. I’d give myself a night to be angry.

Dad agreed and gave me another hug before I dropped back onto the field and hustled toward the exit leading to the locker rooms. A few of the Pipers were standing around the doorway. Some of them were crying, some comforting each other, but they were the girls that had been talking about me the last few weeks. Not in the mood to deal with my teammates’ crap, I kept walking passed them, ignoring their looks as much as they had ignored me lately.

“What did I tell you? A fucking robot, man,” Genevieve’s voice carried through the concrete walls.

We’d fucking lost and I didn’t have any feelings. Fantastic.

Don’t cry.

Security guards and other personnel dotted the hallway. I shook a few of their hands and let them give me pats on the back. I sniffled to myself, letting the disappointment flare through me again. I knew I’d be fine. This wasn’t the first big game I’d lost. Unfortunately, it was one that had taken months to work toward with so many obstacles along the way, and with Kulti so predominant in the process, it seemed so much more painful than usual.

If only I’d done better. Been the player everyone expected me to be.

“Schnecke.”

I jerked to a stop and glanced up. Making his way toward me from the opposite end of the hall was the tall lean figure that I wasn’t sure I wanted to see yet. There were other players walking ahead of me, and he ignored them as they tried to speak to him. He didn’t even pay them a second glance, which was unbelievably rude, but it made me shake my head when I was fighting for my dignity. I couldn’t even wrestle up my Big Girl Socks.

Kulti stopped the second he was about a foot away. His big body was solid and unmoving, and his face that perfect mask of careful control that didn’t give me a hint of what was going on in his big German head. It only made me feel more awkward, more uncertain, more frustrated that we hadn’t won.

Setting his hands on his hips, pulling his shirt tight against his pectoral muscles, he blinked. “You have two options,” he explained, sizing me up. “Would you like to break something or would you like a hug?” he asked in a completely serious tone.

I blinked at him and then licked my lips before pressing them together. We’d lost and here he was asking me if I needed to break something or if I needed a stinking hug. Tears pooled in my eyes, and I blinked more and more as my throat clogged up. “Both?”

His facial expression still didn’t change. “I don’t have anything for you to break right now, but when we leave…”

It was the ‘we’ that got me.

The ‘we’ that convinced me to throw my arms around his waist and hug him so close later on I’d wonder how he managed to breathe. He didn’t even hesitate wrapping his arms around the tops of my shoulders, his head tipping down so that his mouth was right by my ear. “Don’t cry.”

The tears just poured out. My frustration, my disappointment, my embarrassment all went right for it. Every insecurity was present. “I’m sorry,” I told him in a watery voice.

“For what?”

Oh my God, my nose was running faster than I was capable of keeping up with. My heartbreak right there on display. “For disappointing you,” I forced myself to say. My shoulders were shaking with suppressed hiccups.

His head moved, his mouth edging closer toward my ear. Those big muscular arms tightened around me. “You could never disappointment me.” Did his voice sound strange or was I imagining it? “Not in this life, Sal.”

Yeah, that didn’t help at all. Jesus Christ. My nose turned into a running faucet. “Is this real? Are you real? Am I going to wake up tomorrow and see that the season hasn’t even started and these last four months have been a dream?” I asked him.

“It’s very real,” he said in that same strange voice.

What a wonderful thing and a very sad thing at the same time.

I could hear footsteps getting louder around us as they echoed in the hallway, but I couldn’t find it in me to give a single microscopic shit who was approaching and what they would think.

“I really wanted to win.”

His answer was to rub my back, his fingers sliding beneath the thick straps of my sports bra.

“I hate losing,” I told him like he didn’t completely understand, pressing my face deeper between his pecs. “And they think I don’t care that we lost. Why would someone think I’m a robot?”

Kulti just kept right on rubbing, his fingers cool and rough on my damp skin.

I sniffed. “And now you’re stuck here, and I didn’t even win. I’m so sorry, Rey.”

His fingers burrowed even deeper under my sports bra, the seams popping in protest of what he was doing as his palm lay flush against my skin. “You aren’t going anywhere without me.”

Say what? I reared my head back enough to look at his face, indifferent to how much of a wreck I had to be. “But you told—“

Kulti’s face was gentle. His eyes were brighter than ever. “I have so much to teach you, Taco,” he said with a flick of his eyebrow. “Unless you have something in writing, there would never be proof of an agreement to begin with.”

This ruthless shit. I should have been shocked that he lied to Cordero, but I wasn’t. Not at all. I laughed but it was one of those laughs that you let out so you didn’t keep crying. “You’re such an asshole.” But I loved him anyway.

His mouth tipped up, just barely. “Ready to leave?”

I nodded, cleared my drowning throat and took a step back. “Let me get my things first. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

I hesitated for one second as we turned and spotted some of the girls staring. They must have been the group that just passed us. This hard ball of resolve formed in my belly, and I slipped my fingers through Kulti’s.

Screw it. The season was over. I was done, tapped out.

I grabbed his hand, and he smiled.

We’d taken maybe eight steps when he asked, “Who called you a robot?” in such a sweet, sincere voice it was easy to believe it was a casual question.

But I knew him too well, and by that point, I didn’t even care. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” he replied in that same tone. “Was it the same player that told Cordero about you calling me a bratwurst?”

I stopped walking so abruptly it took him a step to realize it. “You know who told him?”

“The nosey one. Gwenivere,” he replied.

“Genevieve?” I coughed.

“Her.”

My eye. My eye twitched. Freaking Genevieve? “Your manager told you?”

He nodded.

I swallowed. Unbelievable. What a backstabbing bitch. Holy shit.

“Your face says enough,” he said, tugging me back to continue walking. “I’ll wait for you out here.”

I smiled at the small group and gave his palm a quick squeeze before disappearing into the mostly empty locker room. I should have stayed, listened to Gardner talk about the season, but I couldn’t. I grabbed all of my things, stuffed them into my duffel bag and left. Tomorrow I would go back and return what wasn’t mine. I could also see Jenny and Harlow before they left to go home.

I found Kulti standing against a wall giving Genevieve and the other girls standing by the door a look that could have boiled someone’s flesh right off. I wasn’t going to ask. I raised my eyebrows at him, and just before we took off, I smiled over at the women, choosing one word and one word only: “Bye.”

Have a good life, I added in my head. I had high hopes I would.

“Come on,” Kulti murmured, leading me through the group of reporters crowding the exit.

He shouldered them out of the way, and I kept walking, not giving a crap that I should have said something to them. It seemed to take a year to make it to his car.

I slid in first, watching as he followed after me, pressing that long, muscular build against mine. His arm slipped over my shoulder as he angled into me, smothering me with his broad chest. That was all he did. He didn’t tell me not to keep being disappointed or angry. Kulti didn’t tell me everything would be fine. Kulti just kept on holding me until we made it to my garage apartment.

Wordlessly, we went up the stairs and he unlocked the door. He dumped my bag in its usual spot. I told him I was going to shower. The next few minutes all seemed like a blurry dream, and I took a lot longer than usual. By the time I finished, I was proud of myself for not crying more than I had. I mean, grown men cried in football when they lost, it would have been fine for me to bawl too…

If I was a baby.

I’d cried enough at the stadium.

It wasn’t the end of the world. It really wasn’t. I would keep telling myself that until I got over it.

Kulti was waiting in the kitchen when I finally ambled out of my bathroom. He shot me a look over his shoulder as he scraped something out of a skillet and onto two plates. “Sit.”

Taking a seat at one of the two barstools at the counter, he slid a plate of mixed veggies, sliced sausage and rice to me. Neither one of us said much as we sat together eating. I felt somber and a bit depressed, and I figured he was just giving me space to mope a bit. I’d have to ask him another day how he dealt with these things.

When we finished, he took our dishes and set them in the sink with a small, tight smile. He went and sat on the couch, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I’m not sure how long I sat there but after feeling pretty miserable, I finally got up and made my way to the living room to see him sitting in the middle, going through one of my dollar-store Sudoku books. As soon as he saw me, he set it aside.

Kulti pulled me onto his lap.

It happened so quickly I couldn’t really focus on anything. His mouth dropped to mine, which had already parted in anticipation.

That split second of anticipation was nothing compared to the actual deed. His mouth was warm and supple, willing and demanding as he dragged his tongue across my bottom lip. I did what any other sane person would have done; I opened my mouth. His tongue tasted faintly like the spearmint he chewed on sometimes as it brushed against mine: once, twice, over and over again, thirsty and needy. He was crushing me to his body as our kisses got deeper, rougher, almost bruising. They were devouring.

Holy crap, I loved it.

The game and the loss became a memory and a worry for another time.

My hands reached for his sides, stroking his ribs before drifting to his waist. His hands had a mind of their own, one going straight for the back of my head, burying deep into the thick, wet hair I’d thrown up into a knot. His other hand reached for my jaw, cradling it. I took the time to suck his tongue into my mouth, greedy and selfish. It was too much and not enough.

I wasn’t the only one who thought it. Kulti used his arms to hold me to him. His grip was desperate, like he wanted to crawl inside of me. Something big and hard brushed against my hip as he held me. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Years had passed since the last time I’d had a boyfriend. It had been many, many years since I’d put relationships on hold to focus on my career. So this was… I didn’t even think twice before dipping my fingers under the hem of his shirt, my thumbs brushing the soft skin there.

What did he do? He jerked away from me, just an inch, only an inch, pulling his shirt over his head and putting my hands back at his sides. I ran them up his ribs, over his back and shoulders, feeling, feeling, feeling. God, he was so muscular, his laterals rippled under my touch.

“You smell like oatmeal, clean and sweet…” he rumbled, sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

It didn’t matter that he was still technically my coach until what? Midnight? Or that he was a celebrity of sorts and that I got rude emails from his fans. All that mattered was that he was my friend above all else, and he made my blood boil like no other person in the world ever had. I couldn’t get enough.

Kulti pressed his chest to mine with a savage growl, his fingers pinching the thin material of my tank top in frustration. In one move that I really didn’t want to think about because it was so effortless, Kulti yanked my shirt and sports bra over my head, tossing them aside.

Oh jeez. Oh jeez. I managed to kiss his throat and that soft place where his shoulder met his neck before he pulled back enough to look at my breasts. His breathing became even more ragged than before, which said something for a man who used to sprint up and down a soccer field for a living. He swallowed, his lips parted, and I could have sworn the bulge at my hip jumped.

The German shifted me with those big hands, pulling me across to straddle his hips as his mouth dipped down to catch a nipple between his lips. He gave the flesh a suck. Good lord, he sucked hard. I moaned. I moaned and arched into him, rubbing at the hard, thick shaft nestled between my legs.

He cursed in his low German accent before pulling away far enough to kiss the freckles that ended right above my nipples. I couldn’t stop looking. I couldn’t. It was so hot. I was panting, he was panting. His hands tried to circle my waist, to pull me up even closer to his mouth.

Something insane and deceptive and tempting streaked through my body, and I went for it. Fuck it. My fingers fumbled at his waist, at the button of his jeans, wanting him now. I’d spent most of my life trying to be a good girl, accepting that I wasn’t made for anything that wasn’t worthwhile. As I dug my knees into the cushions of the couch on either side of his hips, trying to get him to help me out so that I could unzip his jeans, he groaned and thrust his hips up. Down they went, the broad dome of his erection peeking out from beneath the elastic band of his underwear.

The groan that broke through Kulti’s mouth, mixed with my own wild beg. My “Please” that sounded like a cry, was a predecessor for him wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in close. The short hairs on his chest rubbed my nipples.

“Please,” I begged him again.

His answer was to pull back once more and dip his head down low enough so that he could take as much of a breast into his mouth as he could. His hand slipped into the back of my shorts and underwear, skin to skin, palm to cheek. Long fingers trailed down and over the cleft of my ass, lightly brushing over a spot that had me jumping in place before he even reached where I wanted him. His fingertips swept over the two damp lips, and I made an awful, wonderful noise in my throat.

“What do you need, schnecke?” he asked, rubbing a finger in the crease between my cleft and thigh. “You are so wet. Do you want my fingers in you?”

I was going to freaking die.

“Tell me. Do you want my fingers in your warm pussy?” he asked me, eyeing me with wide, bright eyes that lingered over my face as he touched the sensitive skin.

I begged him twice before he finally slipped a finger inside of me.

He dipped so slowly, I thought I would pass out before he pulled back. I started moaning, rolling my hips as his pace increased steadily. His other arm wrapped low around my back to keep me close, our mouths finding each other’s. We kissed and kissed, and he moved his fingers over and over again.

It was the single most sensual thing I’d ever experienced. All I could feel was the warmth of his chest on mine, his arm around me, his mouth pressed to mine, his finger inside. I rocked my hips and then rocked them faster, my breath splintering, chopping itself into pieces, building me higher and higher.

Pulling his mouth away from mine, he trailed wet kisses across my jaw. His lips were at my ear, his thumb circling my clit. “You belong to me.”

A shiver up my spine was the only warning I got from the orgasm coming.

I came. I came and I came and I came.

My legs trembled and my stomach muscles jumped. The entire time, the German kissed my shoulders and my neck. He held me, kissed me and he rubbed his hand over the small of my back.

What felt like half an hour later but was more than likely only a couple of minutes, I slowly settled down to rest my bottom on Kulti’s lap, taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths. His hand had slipped out of my panties and at some point, he’d started cupping my ass. I slumped forward and pressed my forehead to his neck, feeling his pulse thundering away. I gripped his sides and let my thumbs rub up and down his ribs, his proud erection nestled right between us, a purple head staring straight at me, weeping.

I slid one hand down and across the rippled muscles in his abdomen, and with the backs of my fingers, ran a line down the underside of his shaft over the cotton material of his boxer briefs. He took in a quick intake of breath, his hips bucking beneath mine. I looked at his face as I did it again, this time up and down, the muscle jumping beneath my touch. Kulti’s mouth was parted, a deep flush over his cheeks and neck.

I jerked the waistband of his underwear toward me and slipped a hand inside, wrapping my fingers around the hot flesh. What I got in return was a groan, and Kulti tipping his head back as he made just about the sexiest face to ever register on the sexy scale. I leaned forward and bit the part of his throat between his Adam’s apple and chin, the German making a hoarse, erotic noise in his throat.

He was thicker than I expected, longer than I would have imagined. Smooth, hard and hot. Kulti was perfect in my hand. Beyond perfect. And I moved my hand up and down the length staring me right in the face from two feet below. I squeezed as I jerked him off.

It was more visual memory from the hundreds of soft-core porn movies I’d occasionally caught on late night cable that reminded me what to do.

“Does this feel good?” I asked him, sliding my bottom back on his legs a little further away.

“You have no idea,” he grunted, neck straining as I tightened my grip at the base of him.

I mean, I sort of did, but whatever. Now wasn’t the time to argue.

With my heart pounding in my throat, I kept one hand around him while I slid down his legs. He watched me with those heavy-lidded amber eyes, his breathing getting heavier and heavier until he gasped when I wrapped my mouth around the pinkish-purple tip of his head.

“Sal!” he shouted.

One pointed tongue on his frenulum and one more swift suck, and Kulti was letting out a deep, ravaging groan that I’d remember forever, pouring himself down my throat.

Holy shit.

I sat up completely, wrapping an arm around my breasts as I sat there, taking in his breathless, handsome face almost twenty years after I’d first fallen in love with it. The sun, time and life had made him classier.

The thought weighed my conscience down.

Kulti stroked my arm with one hand. “It’s been a long time,” he apologized, tracing a pattern only he saw on my skin. “And you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

I screwed up my face and snorted a little, not letting myself think of all the gorgeous women he’d been with over the years.

He slid his index finger straight up between my collarbones, a thoughtful look on his features that didn’t make me feel any better. Was he remembering all of the amazing boobs he’d seen in his life? Gross.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his fingertip curving over bones, tendons and scars.

“About all the boobs you’ve seen before,” I told him honestly, my throat clogging up in anger I had no right to feel.

He glanced up quicker than I thought was possible, his mouth tight at the corners in a frown.

“I know I don’t have a right to say anything about things that happened before we met, but it’s a little hard for me. If something isn’t to par, think about my scissor kick. I’ve heard some guys tell me it’s boner-worthy,” I offered with a smile.

The frown on his face melted right off. “Sal.”

“I’m just kidding. Mostly.” I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. What was I doing? I needed to tell him the truth.

With a sigh, I stood up and pulled my bra on.

Fingers touched my lower back. “What’s wrong?”

What was wrong? Bah. Why hadn’t I told him yet? He needed to know. It made me feel like a fake after everything that had happened. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

I started to reach for my shirt when he swung his legs off the couch and stopped me with a hand to my arm.

Sitting up straight, I tucked my hands between my thighs, elbow tight to my sides and focused my gaze on my knees. I tried to think of the words I’d planned since my dad had accused me of being a chicken. Not sounding like a stalker was a lot harder than it seemed, especially when I could still taste him in my mouth.

What if—

No what-ifs. I just needed to do it. I really did.

“I used to have a huge crush on you when I was a kid,” I started, warming him up. “Up until I was about seventeen, there were posters of you all over my room. “ In for a penny, in for a pound. All right. I could do this. Honesty mattered. “I was in love with you. I told everyone I was going to marry you someday.

“You were my idol, Rey. I kept playing soccer because of you.”

I rubbed my hand over my eyebrow, still keeping my gaze forward on the coffee table. It wasn’t like I was telling him something crazy. Every girl I’d ever known had crushed on a celebrity at some point, but… I’d just had his penis in my mouth. I should have told him earlier. I should have told him a long time ago.

Pressing down on my eyebrow, I kept going. “I should have told you before but I didn’t want to. It took me long enough to talk to you, and by the time I could do it like a normal person and not like a fan-girl, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want you to look at me differently. I don’t want you to. I’m sorry. It was a long time ago and I’d been just a kid back then.”

There was silence. Total silence.

And I thought to myself, this is over. Our friendship was done. Any hope I had of… well, that was done with too. But what could I do? Nothing. I couldn’t take it back. When I was a kid, I had no idea I’d ever meet Reiner Kulti, much less become friends with him. I definitely had no idea that I would ever fall in love with the human version of him, the real man. Unfortunately, you can’t turn back time and change the past.

Then again, would I want to? I’d gotten to where I was because I’d idolized him, because I had wanted to be him. What the hell else would I be doing if it hadn’t been for him and that damn Altus Cup when I was seven?

Goosebumps rose up on my arms as I sat straight and lunged for my shirt again, pulling it on as the German shifted in his seat right next to me.

I had just tugged it down over my stomach when he shoved his cell phone into my hand with a single order. “Look.”

Big Girl Socks on, I cast a single glance at his face but he had that same blank expression, the cool one. I looked down at what he was showing me on the screen. It was a picture of something.

“Take a closer look.”

I took the phone from him and brought it up to my face, enlarging the image to see what he wanted to show me. It was a picture of a picture. Well, of a drawing to be exact. It was an orange sheet of construction paper with big, black words written in a little kid’s handwriting.

Wait a second.

I looked even closer, blowing up the image more.

It was the little kid version of my handwriting.

Dear Mr. Kulti,

You are my favorite player. I play soccer 2 butt I’m not good like you are. Not yet. I practice all the time so 1 day I can be just like you or beter. I watch all of ur games so don’t mess up.

Ur #1 fan,

Sal

<3 <3 <3

P.S. Do u have a girl friend?

P.P.S. Why don’t u cut ur hair?

“I was nineteen when that showed up to the club’s offices. It was my third fan letter ever and the other two were topless pictures,” he said in his low, steady voice. “That letter stayed in every locker I used for the next ten years. It was the first thing I looked at before my games, and the first thing I saw after I played. I framed it and put it in my house in Meissen once it started to wear out. It’s still there on the wall of my bedroom.”

Oh my God.

“You didn’t put a return address on the envelope, you know. It only had your street’s name and Texas on it. I was never able to write you back because it wouldn’t have made it, but I would have, Sal,” he said.

Looking at the picture reminded me so clearly of writing it, so many years ago.

He had kept it.

“I still have the three others you sent me.”

If I was someone who swooned, or whatever kind of crap happened to people when they were in shock, I would have been doing it. This was… there was no word for what this was. “Did you know it was me when you took the position here?” I asked, still looking at the picture.

“No. I didn’t realize it until you introduced yourself in Gardner’s office. I couldn’t believe it. I knew your last name from the videos of your playing but I didn’t know your first name,” he explained. “I only remembered your first name from your letters.”

Good grief.

“So you’ve always known?” My voice cracked a little at the last word.

“Did I know you’d been my number one fan once?” he asked, nudging my rib enough so that I looked up at him. A gentle look replaced his harsh, usually brooding features. “Yes, I knew. If I would have paid attention the first day of practice, I would have figured it out sooner. And then you cussed me out—“

“I did not cuss you out.”

“—and I understood that you’d grown up.” Kulti rubbed my lower back. “I take so much pride in knowing you’ve become the player you are because you looked up to me, Sal. It’s the greatest compliment I’ve ever been paid.”

Bah.

He kept right on going, oblivious to my heart shooting off fireworks. “I’ve met enough people in my life that I can recognize who wants to know me for the right reason and for the wrong reason. I have trust issues, you know that. It took me time to figure out that you were someone I could trust, but it didn’t take that long. I know you. I know that someone who will defend her father and risk losing her career is someone I can trust, someone that I can respect. Loyalty is one of the most precious things I’ve ever encountered. You don’t know the things people would do to get ahead, and I would bet my life you would never turn your back on anyone that needed you.

“Every single thing that has ever happened in my life has led me here, Sal. Destiny is a ladder, a series of steps that takes you where you’re supposed to go. I am the man that I am, and I have done the things that I’ve done, to get me to you.”

What do you say to that? To a man that kept your childhood letter for half a lifetime and mentioned you and destiny in the same sentence?

I bit the inside of my cheek and leveled a look at him. “Are you sure you don’t care? I used to kiss your posters. Now that I think about it, I’m really surprised no one in my family spilled the beans and said something.”

Rey palmed my face. “Not at all.”