“Then I’m sure you saw the articles as well.”
Articles with contrasting statements—some lamenting the loss of a capable player, some hypothesizing that she’d been inebriated behind the wheel.
“I wantyourside of the story, not the media’s.”
She glances away. Either I’ve made her uncomfortable or she’s figuring out how to tell me to fuck off. Finally, Alia slumps back and clears her throat.
“International women’s cricket was my dream. Playing on the world stage for India—it’s all I ever thought about. One night, I went out to celebrate—a birthday party of all things. Next thing I know, I was waking up in a hospital bed.”
She gulps, the emotional toll this is taking on her evident with each strained breath. I almost ask her to stop. Her nostrils flare as she blinks rapidly, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.
“I know what the articles say. That I deserve it for being careless. But I wasn’t drunk, Cal.” She says it like she’s begging me to believe her. Like she isn’t sure I will. Like she’s afraid of being judged.
Her guilt rips into me like talons digging into tender flesh. But she’s not done.
“My friends wanted to go cruising, I joined in. That’s it. I’d always missed out on parties, my own graduation, dances, dates, movies—everything others experienced and constantly talked about. Cricket was my life, but, for once, I wanted to fit in. I got greedy and I lost everything.”
She wipes her tears angrily before they can even fall.
“You’d think I would’ve learned from my mistake, but I only made more.”
I have no idea what to do. I slide closer to her, my arm pressing into hers, unsure if she wants to be hugged or consoled. She sighs, her weight growing against me.
“I was a coward. I ran from India instead of facing the reality. Marrying Namik—my ex—for the wrong reasons was bound to implode. I didn’t consider the consequences. My family cocooned me in their care once I left him. But every step I’ve taken since then has been scrutinized and debated. They act like I’m broken. When people tell you something often enough, you eventually start to believe it. I’m trying to shed that fear, but it’s hard when I can’t be honest with the people I love about the choices I want to make.”
“What sort of choices?”
“Like, maybe I don’t want to get married again. At least, not soon. Maybe I want to bring cricket back into my life. Maybe I’ll fail, but at least I would’ve tried. Maybe.” Her voice tapers off into a whisper, like she’s unsure she should’ve wished this out loud. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
She lets out an embarrassed laugh. I hate that she feels the need to minimize her problems.
“Have you tried speaking with Rohan or Irsia?”
One slim shoulder lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “A little. I’d rather they go about their day without worrying about me. They have enough going on in their own lives.”
“Then you can talk to me.” The offer leaves my mouth before I have the chance to think it through. Something within me refuses to let her leave believing she needs to deal with everything alone. She looks only slightly more surprised than I feel.
“If you want,” I mutter, as if that makes me seem any less eager. “I know nothing about marriage, but I approve of not committing to just any dickhead out there.”
She snorts, and the strain in my chest eases.
“And. . . cricket.”
Excellent. I’ve forgotten how to form full sentences.
“What about it?” she asks, scrunching her nose in that sweet way that tempts me to tweak it.
“You can talk to me about it as well,” I explain like the dunce I’m starting to believe I am.
“I can?”
“As your friend, I will listen to you and be openly offended that you have such bad taste in sports, despite being in the presence of an incredibly handsome hockey player.”
Her lips part and she stares at me like she can’t believe the utter bullshit I’ve spewed.
Fuck, I’ve gone too far. I’ve ruined it. What am I doing? Why am I flirting with myteammate’s cousin?
I should stop before I do something stupid, like asking her if she wants to be brave and wrap her tongue around mine.