Page 10 of Penalty Kick

“So, Tanner,” Dash whispered into her ear.

Talia startled, not realizing how close he’d been standing.

“What about him?”

“You two are close?”

“We are. He’s Saxony’s son and Felicity’s godson.”

“Can I ask what is…” Dash trailed off, his face scrunching as he looked for the words.

“Don’t you dare say ‘wrong with him.’”

“I was not. His…diagnóstico…”

“Diagnosis?” she asked. That was the closest word she could think of in English. Dash’s English was amazing—to the point where if it hadn’t been for his accent, you’d never know it was his second language—but she could see where that was a word that didn’t come up very often.

“Sí.”

“On paper it’s something called Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified. Which is really just a fancy way of saying that he has a developmental disorder that doesn’t fit into a certain category.”

“So, autismo?”

“Autistic?” she guessed again. Dash nodded. “No, not exactly, although, kinda? From what Sax has told me, autism has never been a part of Tanner’s specific diagnosis, but that might just be due to the way it was understood and thought of when Tanner was born and originally diagnosed compared to the way it’s viewed now. It’s ever changing as experts start to understand the spectrum more and more. My guess, from the little I know on the subject, is that if Tanner were to be given a diagnosis by today’s standards, he would be considered to have ASD—or Autism Spectrum Disorder. But, like a lot of things in life, every case is different. If you have met one person with autism, then you’ve only met one person with autism, because everyone is so different. Tanner is mostly nonverbal, but he does talk some. Certain words and names are clearer than others. But he absolutely understands everything that is said to him. His comprehension is much like any kid his age. School wise, he’s in some special education classes, but is in some non special ed ones too. And he’s a great texter. You should see the conversations we have over text.”

“He means a lot to you.”

Talia was taken aback by the observation. Tanner did mean a lot to her. But the fact that Dash could tell just based on the few minutes of talking, well, that meant something to her too. He was listening to her and actually hearing what she had to say.

“He’s family. But all these kids mean a lot. This whole team does. This is what I want to do.”

Tanner dribbled past them, barely stopping to give each one a high five before turning back around. His laughter filled the air, making Talia’s heart soar.

“Work with those with disabilities?”

“Yes. They are perfectly able; they just have a different level of ability than the majority of the population. And just because they have different needs and skill sets, doesn’t mean that they should be left behind or ignored.”

The corner of Dash’s mouth quirked upwards, like he knew a secret. Confusion took over and Talia knew she wasn’t hiding it very well. She just had no idea what on earth was making him smile like that. Or why it was making her stomach do somersaults again.

“They are lucky to have you,” he said, giving her a wink. A wink that turned those somersaults into one of those crazy spinny things that figure skaters did. Stepping back from her, he turned his attention to the team. “Who wants to scrimmage?”

* * *

“Tanner, to your right,” Dash advised, jutting his chin where he wanted Tanner to send the ball.

Giving him a nod, Tanner paused, using his left foot to pass the ball over to a girl in braided pigtails whose name Dash hadn’t learned yet. It was going to take him a while to learn all of them, especially since there were a few who weren’t going to be able to tell him if he got the wrong name. All he could do was hope that he didn’t get it so wrong that he embarrassed himself. Tanner’s aim was a little off, but overall it was an impressive kick. Too bad the player on the receiving end wasn’t ready. Instead, the brunette stood there, watching as the ball rolled past her and out of bounds.

Looking up at Tanner, she angled her head slightly, as if to ask why he had done that. Tanner let out a sound that Dash understood all too well—frustration. Turning to Tanner, he held out a fist, hoping to give him the encouragement he needed, while making a mental note to figure out how to do this better the next time. This wasn’t like when he’d worked with the youth players at his club in Argentina or the school team his sister, Maria, had played on, who he could simply shout out instructions to. These kids needed more. Just how to accomplish that more, he wasn’t sure. Here’s hoping Talia did.

“It’s okay, Emily!” Talia shouted from the sidelines. “Next time just try to stop the ball.”

“It was a good pass,” he told Tanner. The young man looked up at him, looking more than a little deflated that the play didn’t go as planned. “It was. Good ball placement. That is what matters.”

Tanner nodded, his expression brightening at Dash’s words. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside—like he was starting to make a connection with this kid. Someone who Talia was obviously fond of. He knew he couldn’t use Tanner to get to her—he needed to convince her himself. And he would. But having Tanner’s stamp of approval wasn’t going to hurt. Hell, having the stamp of approval from any of these kids would be insanely helpful to his efforts.

Talia blew the whistle a couple of times, signaling the end to their scrimmage. It was obvious the kids were tired, a status that they certainly earned with how hard they had hustled. Dash hadn’t been sure of what to expect from all of them—what their abilities were and just what a practice for such a team would be like. But watching this group of young adults work had been impressive. Each one pushed themselves as hard as they could, just like his own teammates during their training sessions.

“You guys were amazing today! I am so proud of each and every one of you!” Talia said. “Because the first team has an away game this weekend, we won’t have practice on Thursday, since Liam, Avery, and Dash will be traveling to Charlotte.”