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There's a group of them going out, friends from both sides going somewhere for dinner or a social drink, but the two of them aren't even invited. Everyone knows that even though the offer would be appreciated, it would be politely declined.
Even if the match is over, there's still work to be done. Separately they wave, smile, sign autographs until their hands hurt, field the most obvious questions with the most standard answers.
Yes, it's great to be back in DC.
Oh yeah, everyone loved seeing her back here!
I appreciate the support.
It's almost 9:45 by the time the remaining players shuffle off the field, and Ashlyn brushes her hand against Ali's in the tunnel, almost turning the wrong way toward the wrong locker room before catching herself.
Ali takes her phone out of her locker, powering it on as she sits down to untie her boots, peel her socks off. There are three texts that come in, the first two from Kyle ("simmah down, bb!" with a laughing emoji, followed by a picture of his laptop, a freeze frame of Ali in the ref's face on the screen, and one after that says "tell my beautiful brick wall i said good game :/") and the last one, short and from Ashlyn.
Gonna shower at home. Meet u at the car.
Ali takes a second to appreciate the fact that it's still "home" and not "at your apartment". That it's "the car" and not just "your car". It makes her forget for a second that Ashlyn ever left. She rereads the text and sighs.
She expected this.
Ashlyn is always her own harshest critic, always the first person to judge herself and Ali knows she's taking this one especially hard. Not just because of the game that was lost, but all the lives. Ashlyn had called her (not even FaceTime, she couldn't look at Ali or she would have cried harder), and the gut-wrenching sobs from the other end of the line almost had Ali saying fuck it and buying a plane ticket to Orlando right then.
She changes her clothes and grabs her things as fast as she can, shoving everything in her bag, unorganized.
"Great game, you guys," she says, slinging the bag on her shoulder. "We're gonna head home."
Most of the girls just nod in understanding.
"Tell Ash we love her," Crystal says.
Ali smiles tenderly. "I will."
Ashlyn's leaning against the passenger door when Ali walks up. She lifts her head at the scrape of shoes on pavement, tension visibly leaving her body when she sees Ali again, as if it had been ten weeks since she'd seen her and not ten minutes. Ali walks around the car, taking Ashlyn's bag from her hands before popping the trunk and tossing them in. Ashlyn jumps a little when the trunk shuts, as if she were in her own little world.
Ali steps in between her legs, rubbing her palms gently on Ashlyn's biceps as she tilts her head down, looking under the brim of Ashlyn's snapback to try and meet her eyes. Ashlyn looks at her, and Ali's heart constricts at the look of defeat in them.
She wraps her arms around Ashlyn then, squeezing them between Ashlyn's wrinkled shirt and the car door, leaning her head on Ashlyn's chest, ear pressed right above her heart. Ashlyn takes a second before she brings her left arm up, banding it around Ali's shoulders. They stand like that for a few minutes until Ali shifts, pulling Ashlyn's body with her as she steps back from the door.
"Come on," she says, opening the passenger door. "Let's go home."
She finally feels like it's dark enough (and safe, and the fact that she even has to worry about 'safe' makes her angry) to kiss Ashlyn, so she leans over the center console, pressing their lips together. Ashlyn buckles up, resting her hat on the dashboard before reclining her seat a little and curling up, facing Ali. After she shifts the car into drive, Ali reaches over, feeling for Ashlyn's hand. Ashlyn takes it between hers, clutching tightly and closing her eyes.
Fifteen minutes into the drive home, Ashlyn's grip slackens and Ali knows she's asleep.
Everything hurts (her head, her shoulder, her heart) and Ashlyn almost starts crying the minute she walks through the door to their (it will always be theirs, always be the first real home they ever had) apartment. Everything's the same; it still smells like that one Glade Plug-in scent that Ali's obsessed with, still has magazines stacked high on the coffee table, still has that blanket that her grandma had knitted them two Christmases ago folded over the arm of the couch. The only difference is that it looks a little cleaner, and Ashlyn fully admits to its previous state of slight disarray being her fault.
Ali stretches up and kisses her temple, not caring that she still smells like grass and sweat.
"What do you want to eat?" she murmurs. "I'll make it for you while you shower."
"I'm not really hungry."
"Honey."
"Just... let me shower first. Then I'll see how I feel, okay?" She's placating Ali, and Ali sees right through it but doesn't say anything. She knows it's a courtesy, an I know you're trying to take care of me, and I love you for that, but I'm not ready yet.
Ali's trying not to feel hurt by it, knows Ashlyn just needs a little time and space to be upset with herself, with the game, the world - but it still stings. She picks up Ashlyn's hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist, still light pink from the frustrated way she ripped the tape off of it in the locker room.
"Okay. Yell if you need anything."
The corners of Ashlyn's mouth twitch, like she wants to smile but doesn't feel like she should.
"It's only been a few months, I still remember where we keep the towels."
Ali sighs when she disappears into the bedroom.
Ali has just finished making the bed with fresh sheets when Ashlyn comes out of the bathroom in a large black shirt and a pair of loose shorts hanging low on her hips. Her hair is wavy, still damp, like she'd towel-dried it without bothering to brush it. Ali looks up and notices her puffy eyes, bloodshot and red.
Ali wants to cry, too.
"I, um—" Ashlyn croaks out. "I'm still not in the mood to eat. I just want to go to bed. With you."
Ali pulls back the sheets, patting them.
"Get in. I fluffed them in the dryer while you showered, so they're warm."
There's so much Ashlyn wants to say: you're my rock, thank you for taking care of me, I love you. But they all seem inadequate in the face of everything Ali's done for her, her strength and her support through not only this, but every other setback they've encountered, together or apart, in the last six years.
"I know," Ali whispers, without Ashlyn having to say a thing. "Climb in."
So she does, and Ali leans over to kiss her forehead. "I'll be five minutes. Quickest shower ever."
She's pretty accurate, because she's crawling into bed eight minutes later, smelling like flowers, damp hair in a braid, and Ashlyn immediately rolls over, letting Ali pull her close, wrap around her. Ashlyn takes a deep breath, and the day, the week finally catches up to her, and instead of a long exhale, all that comes out is a choked sob.
Ali just holds her close, one hand rubbing soothing patterns on her back, one cupped around the back of her head.
"Sweetheart," she whispers, choked up, her own heart breaking. "I'm right here. Let it out."
The dam breaks then, Ali soothing her as best she can. But Ashlyn is inconsolable, broken, and she's crying so hard that Ali feels the need to remind her to breathe. She drags in short, shaky breaths when she can, her tears soaking Ali's shirt, her neck and chest.
"I put their names on my back," she rasps, voice thick, once the tears slow. "I was playing for them and we lost."
"There's nothing you could have done on those," Ali says. "And winning or losing doesn't matter — you played hard for them. We all did."
Ashlyn squeezes her hip.
"We're not staying silent," Ali continues. "We're honoring them, we're remembering them. Did you see all the rainbows tonight? We're making something beautiful in the face of tragedy."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
It's quiet then, just the slight wheeze of Ashlyn's breathing, the soft sound of Ali's nails against Ashlyn's scalp as she runs her fingers through her wet hair, gently untangling it in sections.
"I just keep thinking," Ashlyn whispers, "I keep having dreams. That we're there, or anywhere, and someone—"
"Don't."
"It could have been us, Alex. One or both of us, or someone we love."
"I know."
"I wish I could... do something. Do more."
"You're doing plenty. But I know you wish you were there right now."
"The only place I've wanted to be since it happened is with you."
Ali pulls back, finds Ashlyn's lips, kisses her like it's the last time she'll ever do it.
"You're with me now," Ali murmurs, a little breathless. "You're kinda stuck with me, too."
Ashlyn arches into her, kissing her, gripping at her waist.
Her stomach gurgles, loudly.
She breaks away, laughing, and Ali thinks it's the sweetest sound she's ever heard.
"Okay, so maybe I am a little hungry."
Ali smiles before she rolls over, looks at the clock.
"Well, it's only 11:15, but... midnight mac and cheese?"
Ashlyn chuckles, wiping at her eyes and nodding.
"Midnight mac and cheese."