I’m stunned.
Frozen and speechless as I process what I’ve just witnessed.
It takes me a moment, then another, to process the win.
I think it takes Noah dropping to his knees, hands covering his face, for me to realize the match is over and he’s done it.
As soon as the realization hits, I’m on my feet and pulling Ebba up with me. She’s screaming and crying, arms wrapped around my middle. Elias is on his feet, clapping and whistling.
Sabrina is crying and Maddie is pulling out her pack of stickers. “Dad, deserves a whole sticker sheet for this win.”
Laughter flies out of me at her comment.
Noah finally gets up, shaking hands with his opponent and the chair umpire before he waves around to the crowd. Flipping his cap around backwards, he jogs over to our area in the stands and makes the climb up to us.
He gets to Maddie and Sabrina first. He gives his daughter a tight squeeze of a hug before he kisses his wife and makes his way down the other coaches until he gets to me. I pull his sweaty body in for a hug, patting him on the back.
“You did it, dude. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I feel like I’m flying high. The euphoria of this win is going to take a long while to wear off. The grin on my face is downright painful as Noah makes his way back down to the court where they’re converting it for the trophy ceremony.
Ebba gives my elbow a squeeze and I tear my gaze away from the court to focus on her. Warm brown eyes and skin.Dark hair braided back in a ponytail with some sort of silver ring like things scattered through the braids. Her makeup is impeccable despite the raging Australian heat. When I asked her this morning if makeup would be a waste in this weather, she looked at me like I was the dumbest motherfucker on the planet and held up a small pink can. “Finishing spray, Fisher. Locks everything into place.” Whatever that stuff is, it must be a miracle worker.
“Congratulations,” she says, pulling my thoughts away from this morning.
“For what?” I ask dumbly and she laughs. I watch the way her throat moves, finding even that attractive. I’m certain every little thing she does is attractive to me.
“You are his head coach. This win belongs to you too.”
“Oh,” I drawl the word slowly. “Right.”
She laughs again, eyes squinting with amusement. “You’ve always had trouble accepting praise.”
“I’m not the player. Not anymore.”
“Do you miss it? Ever wish you were the one out there?”
As we settle back in our seats, I think carefully about how to answer. “Miss it? Every day. But wish I was the one out there? Not at all.” Her nose scrunches in confusion. “Stepping away, turning to coaching instead of playing, made me realize how much I hated the pressure. From coaches. From myself. From the fans.” I shake my head at the memory of a particularly brutal loss, one many people had bet on me winning, and when I lost my social media comments and DMs were filled with people chewing me out. Telling me what a fucking failure I was. To stop playing. To kill myself. “I’m happier where I’m at now, but I do miss parts of it.”
She nods in understanding and gives my knee a squeeze. “That makes sense.”
Noah’s won other grand slams, but with his impending retirement far closer than I expected, this feels different. It might be an impossible hope, but I’d love to see him secure the win at the other three. A calendar Grand Slam isn’t something he’s done yet in his career.
It feels like I’m having an out of body experience as he accepts his trophy and gives his speech. He’ll have interviews to do, so it’ll be a while before we’re able to meet up with him.
As we’re leaving the stadium, Sabrina pulls me aside. “I booked a dinner for everyone tonight to celebrate. You’ll come right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Squeezing Ebba’s hand, I tug her hand to hold her back. “I’m going to wait for Noah in the locker rooms. I didn’t like the way he went down on his ankle in the second set, so I want to make sure he doesn’t need a doctor to take a look. I’ll see you soon, though, okay?”
She walks away, trying to catch up with Sabrina. The giant rock on her left finger catches the light of the sun. My breath catches in my throat at the idea that in a few short months that ring might be gone.
CHAPTER 40
EBBA
I scourthrough my clothes for something to wear to tonight’s dinner. Despite my numerous choices, nothing feels right. Annoyance stirs low in my belly. I hate when I get like this—overthinking everything to the point that I can’t even pick out clothes.