No one else was around as she came up to stand in our triangle. Harlow was the one that answered. “The team is going to trade her.”
Jenny’s mouth dropped open. “What? Who told you that?”
I shrugged because it didn’t matter.
Tears immediately welled up in her eyes. “What team?”
“New York.”
Neither one of them said anything.
It was Harlow that asked, “What are you going to do?”
“Go to Europe, I hope,” I explained. “Maybe. If someone wants me.”
My poor Jenny’s eyes filled up with tears. “You’re really leaving us?”
Oh God. “I’m leaving this, not you guys. You know Cordero’s never liked me. I’m not really surprised he finally decided to get rid of me, but I can’t believe he’d try to pawn me off to New York of all places.”
“They’d never let you play.” Jenny shook her head.
A hand cupped my elbow before trailing a path all the way to the small of my back. The heat of a man’s body seared my side. “You’ll be fine,” a male voice stated.
It took a second for my brain to register what was happening. Kulti was touching me in public, at practice no less, in front of my friends and whoever else was left in the locker room.
When his hand slid up my spine and settled on the shoulder furthest away from him, the tension drained from my lungs and shoulders. This was the end. He was my friend, nothing else. I had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of.
Fuck it. I put my hand on top of his. “Hopefully someone will take me.”
“They will,” he stated with complete confidence.
I’m glad one of us was certain.
His gaze settled on me, like he didn’t even realize there were other people there. “I need to talk to you.”
I wanted to ask about what, but figured I should wait.
“See you later?” I asked Jenny and Harlow who were watching us closely.
“Yeah,” they both agreed.
He didn’t bother waiting until we got to my car. Kulti stopped me in the middle of the parking lot, an exceptionally serious look on his face. “They aren’t going to put you in the game.”
“I know.”
“If we don’t do anything and the team moves on to next round, they aren’t going to let you play the final either.”
Grief and anger were so similar it was difficult to distinguish which one was crushing my lungs. “I know.”
Kulti took a step forward. He’d let his beard grow in the last couple of days, and it framed his face perfectly, really making his eyes pop. “Do you trust me?”
Did I trust him? My head jerked back a little and my eyebrows went up. I better be able to. “Yes.”
His nostrils flared as his chin tipped down. He resembled the man I’d admired on the field for so long. “Let’s talk to Cordero.”
I had just told him I trusted him, but I still wanted to ask what the hell we were going to talk to that ass-wipe about. Trust, right? He wasn’t going to screw me over. Kulti knew what was at stake.
I wanted to throw up, but instead I nodded.