The Striker: Chapter 33

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.”

“It’s been five years,” I said coolly. “I’ve changed a lot since the last time we saw each other.”

Rafael winced at my pointed tone.

“How’s Vicky?” I asked even more pointedly. Vicky was the reality TV star he’d started dating almost immediately after our breakup.

“C’mon, Scar. You know I’m not with her anymore.”

I hated when people called me Scar.

“Actually, I don’t.” I shrugged. “I don’t keep up with news about you. Sorry.”

Rafael’s expression clouded. He was like Teflon when it came to certain things, but jab at his ego and his unflappability punctured faster than tires rolling over a bed of nails.

Despite my desire to get away from him as fast as possible, I couldn’t resist indulging one bit of curiosity. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I’m in London to take care of some business,” he said vaguely. “An old teammate was participating in today’s match and asked me to be their backup. Good thing I said yes, or they wouldn’t have scored so many goals.” Smugness coated his words.

Ugh. Had I really been in love with this man? What had younger me been thinking?

“Right,” I said. “But your team lost.”

Rafael’s smile tightened. “Barely,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “I’m guessing your brother hasn’t forgiven me for what happened.”

“No, which is why you should leave before he gets here.”

He ignored my warning. “I saw you in the stands and wanted to talk to you alone, after the match. I was going to call you later, but since you’re already here, I figured, why not?”

I kept my mouth shut and my expression neutral.

“I wanted to apologize for the way I handled things after your accident,” he said after several beats of silence. “I know it’s been years since we’ve seen each other, but you’re not the only one who’s changed since then. I acted like a jerk, and I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d sprouted fairy wings and started tap dancing in the middle of the breezeway.

Was Rafael Pessoa apologizing for something he did?

“It’s great to see you looking so good,” he added. “It’s like the accident never happened.”

A sudden, irrepressible wave of fury swamped my earlier surprise. It’s like the accident never happened?

No wonder he was so friendly and chatty. He probably saw me and thought I would be an easy hookup now that I was back to “normal.” He also probably thought that I was the same girl who’d fallen head over heels for his cocky flashiness when I’d been too young and inexperienced to know better.

What he didn’t see were the years of surgery, therapy, and rehab I had to go through to get to where I was today. He didn’t see my self-loathing spirals or the fatigue that kept me glued to my bed during my worst flare-ups. Even at that moment, when I “looked so good,” I had little prickles and aches that formed an incessant hum in the background of my life.

My symptoms were invisible, but they were real.

Rafael didn’t see any of that because he hadn’t been there. He’d ditched me then had the nerve to waltz up to me five years later like all was forgiven and forgotten.

I forgave him for me because I didn’t want to stew in a toxic pool of resentment anymore. But I certainly didn’t forget.

“Actually, Rafael, the accident did happen.” Poisonous honey dripped from my voice. “Remember when you saw me in the hospital for the first time and flinched? Remember how you told me I would feel better if I ‘chose to’?” The honey congealed into cold, hard anger. “Remember when you broke up with me after my first surgery because you said I ‘needed space’ to heal on my own, then ran off to fuck the first girl you saw at the club? You framed it like you were doing me a favor when in reality, you were too much of a little shit to handle the fact that you were no longer the center of my world. You hated that I didn’t make you the center of attention anymore and that you didn’t have a shiny trophy to show off in public.”

The color leached from Rafael’s face. “That’s not what⁠—”

“I’m not finished so don’t interrupt me.” The anger snapped inside me, teeth bared and claws elongated. “For you to come up to me five years later and say it’s like the accident never happened is the biggest fucking slap in the face. But you know? I shouldn’t have expected anything more from you. You’ve always been a self-centered dick, and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. In hindsight, the only good thing you’ve ever done was break up with me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve been stuck with you all this time, and that would’ve been a worse punishment than any pain or accident.”

The silence that followed my rant was so deep and all-encompassing I could’ve heard a moth breathe.

Rafael gaped at me, his face a mottled canvas of shock, anger, and the tiniest smidge of remorse.

I’d never spoken to him like that before. I’d never spoken to anyone like that before, but my feelings had been pent up for years. They’d rattled inside me, repressed but unforgotten, until his appearance popped the cap off their prison.

Once they were unleashed, there was no stopping them until they’d spent every last bit of their energy.

Exhaustion settled into my bones—exhaustion, and no small amount of pride.

“We’re done,” I said, more calmly this time. “Don’t try to contact me again.”

I’d waited years to give Rafael a piece of my mind. Now that I had, I was ready to put him in my past once and for all.

Unfortunately, he was either too arrogant or too stupid to realize I wasn’t joking.

He grabbed my arm when I attempted to brush past him. A sour feeling spread through my chest. “Scarlett, I was just⁠—”

“Don’t touch her.”

My gaze flew to the right just in time to see Asher blaze a path toward us with Vincent hot on his heels.

Oh, fuck.

Rafael dropped my arm.

Asher punched him.

And everything went to hell—again.