The team is elated when I score the winning goal. It’s the second round in the playoffs, which means we’ll be advancing to the finals. Neither team had scored the entire match, and we were wondering whether we would go into overtime. But my big break came in the final minutes. The left midfielder passed me the ball and I saw an opening between the sweeper and the stopper, so I took the shot and fired. Since I’m the team’s striker, they were counting on me, and I was able to deliver. The ball sailed into the goal for a perfect score.

After the match, the media tries to interview me, but the coaches are great in fielding all questions. They know the players need to escape, because we face another game in two days.

I head to the locker room with the other players and check my phone. I’m more than a little surprised when there isn’t a congratulatory text from Andi. I know she watched the game. What’s going on here? Then it hits me: Something must’ve happened.

I tap her name on my phone and wait, but nothing. All the circuits must be busy since there are so many people here.

“Fuck!”

“What’s up?” One of my teammates hears me and asks.

“I can’t get a line here. All circuits are busy or something.”

“Try the landline in the coach’s office. They must have one.”

“Great idea. Thanks.”

Jogging over there, I barge inside. All the coaches’ heads snap up as I enter.

“Hey, can I use the phone in here? I can’t get a line out,” I explain.

“Sure.” They all look at me strangely. I’m in the I don’t give a fuck moment. Picking up the phone, I dial Andi’s number. It rings and I breathe again.

“Hello?” she says hesitantly.

“Hey, baby, it’s me. I couldn’t call from my cell phone. There are too many people here.”

“Oh.”

“I was worried when you didn’t text me.”

“Chase.”

It’s the way she says my name that clues me in. “It’s Violet, isn’t it?”

“We’re in the hospital. She spiked a fever and things went south.”

“I’m coming home.”

“You can’t come home.”

“You wanna bet?” I hang up the phone before she can say anything else. Then I approach the coaching staff.

“My daughter is in the hospital. Things are really bad. I have to leave.”

“Leave? You can’t leave. We have a game in three days. We’re in the finals.”

“I’m sorry. If she’s better, I’ll be back. If not, then you’ll have to compete without me. My daughter’s life is much more important than any football match will ever be.”

“You have a contract with us, Wilde. You’ll breach it.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to do what you have to do, but my daughter is extremely sick and I have to go. I’m sorry. I never meant to let the team down, but I also have an obligation to my family.”

Not wasting another second, I run to the locker room to quickly shower so I can get to the airport. It’s going to be hell getting out of the stadium as it is, but getting a flight is going to be another problem.

As I’m packing up my bag, I call Max. Luckily this time, the call goes through. “Max, I need your help. I need a flight back to Rome. Violet is in the hospital. I don’t care how you have to do it, but get me back there as soon as you can.”

“I’ll do my best. What did the coaches say?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Max arranges for a car to pick me up and charters a flight to get me back to Rome. All of my teammates send their prayers with me. I arrive at the hospital at a reasonable hour. Even though I’m a mess when I walk into Violet’s room, I put on the best front possible. I have to be strong for my girls.

Andi runs into my arms as soon as she sees me. Violet looks like the wilted tiny flower that she is. I rarely get the urge to cry … but this is one of those times. When I gaze at her miniscule form lying in that hospital bed, all I want to do is break down and bawl like a baby. But I don’t dare. I’m the captain of Team Wilde, and I will not let any weakness show.

“How is she?” I whisper, because Violet is asleep.

Andi motions me toward the hall. Once outside, she fills me in.

“Not good. All her counts are extremely low. The doctors say she stopped responding to the drugs. They’re talking bone marrow transplant.”

“How much time does she have before that?”

“They’re not saying. They’re going to start blood transfusions in the morning. We can donate.”

“Okay.”

“She’s on antibiotics to get her infection under control.”

“Why didn’t they do a blood transfusion today?”

“Oh, they did a white cell transfusion. Tomorrow they’re doing the whole blood. I’m not sure the reasoning. I have to be honest. My brain hasn’t been quite here. I was so upset when she woke up so sick.”

I pull her close into my arms. “It’s too much for one person to handle alone, Andi. That’s why I came.”

We stand together in silence for a few minutes, and then I say, “Babe, I think we need to go home.”

“Home?”

“Back to the States. If Violet needs bone marrow, it’s time. We need our families close by. Even if none of them are matches. It’s all about them being our support system.”

“Are you sure? This is your career.”

I take her shoulders in my hands and catch her gaze. “You and Violet are my life. Not my career in football. If I lost either of you, I’d have nothing. Football is temporary. You and Violet are permanent. Football is a job. You and Violet are my family. Am I getting through?”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Then the decision is made. We’ll talk to the doctors. We also need to find out about who is a match. A lot of people got tested. Hopefully, one of them is at least a fifty percent.”

In the morning, Violet wakes up and tries to grin when she sees me, but it never quite makes it. She’s cranky and it’s no wonder. The poor thing is ill.

The doctor comes in and we inform him of our decision.

“I don’t recommend that she flies on a commercial airliner. With her immune system, all the germs floating around the recirculated air could pose a problem for her.”

“That won’t be a problem. I was planning on chartering a flight anyway,” I say.

Andi adds, “And I’m a nurse, so I can give her any medications that might be required on the flight.”

“Good,” the doctor replies. “Then let’s get this transfusion underway.”

It gives us great relief to know that my blood is O negative and I’m able to provide Violet the blood she needs, along with Andi, who is A positive, which is Violet’s blood type. At first we were worried about her getting blood from a random donor, but after they assured us we could be the donors, we felt much more at ease about her transfusions.

“Doctor, did you ever get the results of the bone marrow testing?” I ask. “I’m talking about whether anyone is at least a partial match.”

“Ah, yes. I’ll give all that to you before you travel. I believe one of your family members ended up being a match. I don’t recall the name, but you’re very lucky. A parent only has a one in two hundred chance of being a match, and a sibling only twenty-five percent. Seventy percent of donors come from the registry program. This has worked to your benefit indeed. The other thing I’ll need is which hospital you’ll want her to go to. I believe we discussed Children’s Hospital in Nashville, Ms. James. Is that still your decision?”

“Yes, we think that’s the best choice. And you agree?” Andi asks.

“I do. They have state-of-the-art treatment for aplastic anemia in children,” the doctor answers.

“Then can you make the arrangements?”

“I’ll be happy to. I should have that completed by this afternoon, so if you want to make your flight arrangements for tomorrow, that would be fine.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Andi says.

We have a lot to do in a day. I place a call to Max, asking him to charter a flight for us for tomorrow. And then I ask him to book us a hotel in Nashville close to the hospital. I’m sure we’ll be staying with Violet, but one of us may need a break to sleep and our family may need to have a room or something. Then there’s the matter of packing our things and closing up the house.

“Chase, don’t worry about all that. I can pack up what you leave behind, or you can come back and retrieve it when Violet gets better.”

“But, Max, it doesn’t make sense to pay for the house if we’re not going to be there.”

“I’ll handle it. I can have someone come in, pack up your things, move them to storage until you return. Just pack up what you’ll be needing for the next few months and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Good idea. Thanks, Max. My mind is spinning.”

“I’m sure it is. And you know you’ll be hearing about your contract.”

“I do. I’ll let you field everything until the crisis with Violet has passed. I don’t want to be disturbed with this unless it’s an emergency.”

“Understood. I’ll get to work on your flight.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Max.”

I relay everything to Andi and she seems more relaxed about it. “It does ease my mind, but can you afford that flight?”

“Stop worrying about the money. I’ve already told you I can afford it. Did you know that European football players make much more than American football players do? Well, the good ones, anyway.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, so let’s worry about getting our things together.”

She’s standing next to Violet’s bed, smoothing the little one’s hair back. Violet is holding her favorite stuffed bunny. Her coloring is nearly ashen. It’s scary. I want her to be laughing and running around the house again. Hopefully, the bone marrow transplant will do exactly that and we can have our giggling little girl back.

Andi slips into the bathroom for a minute, and while she’s in there, the nurse comes in to hook Violet up with her blood transfusion. Now I’m more than happy Andi was a go for the port. All they have to do is basically plug the line into the port in Violet’s chest. No needle stick for my little one. She doesn’t miss a beat as she lies there. But she’s so listless, it scares me. The nurse leaves and Andi walks out of the bathroom. I expect to see a sign of relief on her face when she notices the transfusion running into our daughter. Instead, Andi covers her face and cries.

Immediately, I rush to her side and wrap her in my arms. I think she’s sad seeing Violet so ill, but then I hear her words.

“I’m not pregnant. I just started my period.”

Shit.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ll have many more opportunities to try. Don’t be sad. It’s all going to work out. I promise.” She sobs within the circle of my arms and I only hope I can fulfill the promise I just made to her.