The Striker's Forbidden Love

Chapter Twelve- What Mothers Know

Elena's office door was already open when Mia arrived, and Elena herself was standing behind her desk instead of sitting, arms crossed, expression unreadable in the particular way that made Mia's stomach clench all over again.

"Sit." Elena said.

Mia sat, spine straight, already rehearsing denials she hoped she wouldn't need.

"Two goals. A trial offer from the national program." Elena said, not unkindly, though her tone gave nothing away yet. "You should be celebrating tonight, Torres."

"I would be. If this conversation weren't happening." Mia said, unable to keep the wariness out of her voice.

"This isn't about the rumors." Elena said, and something in Mia's chest loosened so fast it almost hurt. "Not directly. I wanted to debrief the press interaction before you heard secondhand what got printed. You handled it well. Cleaner than most veterans would have."

"Oh." Mia said, relief washing through her so completely she nearly laughed. "That's it?"

"That's it, for tonight." Elena said, something almost gentle crossing her face. "Though I'll be honest, Torres 'not directly' isn't the same as 'not at all.' I'm watching this situation. I expect you to keep handling it exactly as well as you did tonight."

"Understood." Mia said, throat tight.

"Go home. Rest. You earned it today, whatever else is swirling around you." Elena said, and there was something almost warm underneath the usual briskness, enough that Mia allowed herself a small breath of real relief on the walk out.

Mia walked out of the administrative building into the cool night air, legs still shaking slightly from adrenaline that had nowhere left to go, and let out a breath she felt like she'd been holding for hours.

She was almost to her car when her phone rang. Her mother's name lit up the screen, and Mia's stomach, which had only just settled, twisted right back into knots.

"Hi, Mom." Mia said, sliding into the driver's seat, bracing herself.

"Mia Torres." Her mother said, using the full name the way she'd used it since childhood, the tone that meant serious business was coming whether Mia wanted it or not. "I saw the match. Two goals. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you." Mia said carefully, waiting for the turn she knew was coming.

"I also saw the forum." Her mother continued, and there it was. "Marcus sent me the thread. There's a whole conversation about you and some man, Mia. People speculating. Strangers."

"Mom, it's really not….."

"Don't." Her mother said, not sharp, just tired. "Don't tell me it's nothing. I raised four children. I know what nothing sounds like, and this isn't it."

Mia closed her eyes, forehead resting against the steering wheel. "It's complicated."

"Everything worth having usually is." Her mother said, softer now. "I'm not calling to lecture you. I'm calling because I'm your mother, and I saw strangers on the internet discussing my daughter like she's a story instead of a person, and I wanted to hear your voice."

Something in Mia's chest cracked open at that, gentler than she expected. "I'm okay, Mom. Really."

"Are you?" Her mother asked, and the question landed with more weight than it should have for three simple words.

"I don't know." Mia admitted, the honesty surprising her as much as it probably surprised her mother. "There's a lot happening right now. More than I know how to explain over the phone."

"You've never been one to explain yourself easily. Even as a little girl." Her mother said, and there was warmth in it despite everything, the particular fondness that came from decades of knowing someone completely. "You'd scrape your knee falling off your bike and tell me you were fine while you were bleeding all over the porch steps."

Mia laughed despite herself, wet and unsteady. "I don't remember that."

"I do. I remember everything, that's the trouble with mothers." Her mother said. "So when you tell me you're fine now, forgive me if I don't take it entirely at face value."

"Then don't explain it tonight." Her mother said. "Just tell me you're safe. Tell me whatever this is isn't hurting you."

Mia thought about the burner accounts, the video, the fan forum, Williams's careful warning in the tunnel, and underneath all of it, the steady warmth of Daniel's voice on the phone two nights ago, the way he'd said *eleven minutes into meeting you* like it mattered.

"It's not hurting me." Mia said, and mostly believed it. "It's just... a lot to carry right now."

"Then let someone help you carry it." Her mother said. "That's all I ask. Whoever he is, if he's good to you, if he treats you with respect, that matters more to me than what strangers on a forum think they know."

"I'll tell you everything. Soon. Just not yet." Mia said, throat tight. "I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." Her mother said, and Mia could hear the smile returning to her voice, some of the worry easing out of it. "Now go home and sleep. You played beautifully today. Don't let the noise take that away from you."

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, baby. Score another one next week."

Mia hung up, sat in the quiet of her car for a long moment, and let herself cry not from sadness exactly, just the release of a week finally catching up all at once, relief and exhaustion and something that felt dangerously close to hope all tangled together. The parking lot lights buzzed faintly overhead, the whole world gone quiet and still around her tiny, contained storm.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, laughed once at herself for the state she'd worked herself into, and reached for a tissue that wasn't in the glovebox where she thought she'd left it.

Her phone buzzed as she wiped her eyes, and for once it wasn't dread that spiked through her chest. It was Daniel.

*You okay? You never texted after Elena's office.*

Mia smiled despite everything, thumb hovering over the reply. She typed three different responses, deleted each one, and finally settled on the truth.

*I'm okay. Long night. Can I call you?*

The reply came back almost instantly.

“Always.”

She dialed before she could talk herself out of it, phone pressed to her ear, heart doing something warm and unguarded as it rang once, twice…

And then, behind her, headlights swept across the empty parking lot, slowing down instead of passing through, the beam sliding across her rearview mirror and holding there a beat too long for comfort.