Page 60 of Guarding the Star

She kisses me while she traces the scar on my hand with her finger. The one I got trying to save Valentina.

“Paula.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

My eyes fly open.

“Oh God, I said it. There. I said it. Don't make me say it again because I think I'm having a cardiac event. I'm already having a cardiac event. My blood pressure is spiking. Can you die from saying I love you? Because I'm feeling things in my chest. Is it normal to feel things in your chest? I should probably go to the ER. Can we call Tessa? She's a doctor, she'll know what to do. Call Tessa and tell her I'm dying of feelings.”

I press my hands to my face and laugh while she covers me in kisses.

“Are you laughing or crying?”

“I'm going to make you say those words a million times,” I tell her. “I love you too,” I whisper, wrapping myself around her bare body.

Epilogue

Iris

February of the following year.

This time, during preseason in Florida, I don't go out. I'm so focused that Hades has asked the medical staff if I'm sick.

It seems impossible that almost three months have passed since the night I told Paula I loved her and nearly died of fright. Now I say it every day. Several times. And it comes out like breathing.

Derek Linden pleaded guilty to repeated harassment and document forgery. The judge sentenced him to two years of supervised probation, a permanent restraining order, and mandatory psychological treatment.

He moved to Ohio two weeks after the sentencing. His lawyer tried to argue he was harmless since he didn't resist arrest and wasn't carrying a weapon. The prosecutor presented six hundred and twelve photos, a hundred and forty-three blog entries, and the mural on the wall of his Ballard studio. The judge had no doubts. Neither did I. Sometimes I remember him like a noise that stopped: you know it was there, but you don't hear it anymore.

Wesley tears across the field toward me. He's grown, and his energy wears us all out.

“Iwis! Iwis!” he screams.

I scoop him up, lift him in the air, and take the chance to smell his hair. It still strikes me as the best thing in the world.

“Boss. We've got work now. We play later.”

“Goals!”

“Goals. Exactly.”

I set him down and he sprints back to Tessa.

A few yards away, Paula reads. Hades considers us a “stable couple” and gave her permission to come to preseason in Florida. Deep down, I think she knows Paula keeps me steady. She doesn't want to risk the old Iris coming back.

Mama Celo visited last week. Three days with us in the new house we bought. The whole place smelled like tamales and chile verde. She reorganized the closets and left saying we needed to eat more because we were too skinny.

The whole team came over for lunch one afternoon. She talked for hours with Lucía in Spanish, and even Hades asked for her tamale recipe.

Practice starts. Rondos. Pressing drills. Passing. The Florida sun sticks to the skin. Tina is in great shape. Jamie wins every duel. Jade Herrera and Zoe keep building something between them on the field.

During a water break, I glance toward the sideline. Hades has her tablet open. It's not showing tactical diagrams. It's showing a player profile. Forward. Twenty-six years old. Plays for the last-place team in the league and still finished just one goal behind me.

Mireya Guerrero.

Hades looks at her profile in a strange way. I already told her she's not coming. It's not that I'm afraid of competition, but Mireya has played at that club her whole life and her mother is the head coach. No matter how much money they offer, she won't switch. She told me herself once when we were together with the national team.