Chapter 298: [298] "Away from the noise"

Juliette's hand hit Luc's bicep lightly.

It was not really a blow, but the contact carried a sharp sting that severed his train of thought. The smack echoed in the quiet space of the bedroom, audible through the static of the speakerphone.

Luc flinched, pulling the phone away from his face. He blinked, the remnants of his morning exhaustion wiped away by the reprimand.

He looked up at Juliette. She was standing beside the mattress, her arms now crossed over the white cotton of his oversized robe, the toothbrush was still jutting from the corner of her mouth, though her eyes were narrowed with irritation.

Luc offered a confused look, his brow furrowing as he rubbed the spot on his arm. He looked from her to the screen of his device, where Max was still rambling at a hundred miles an hour about something.

"Max," Luc interrupted, his voice dropping to halt the teenager's energy. "Stop talking for a second."

"Cap, we have to look at a lot of things," Max insisted through the speaker. "The federation sent the flight portal link at the bottom of the email. We need to book before the window closes, otherwise they put us on whatever commercial red-eye is left over. I'm not--"

"Max, listen to me," Luc said, his eyes remaining locked on Juliette. "I will look at the email. I will look at everything. I will call you back in twenty minutes."

"But--"

"Twenty minutes, Max," Luc repeated.

He pressed the button on the screen, killing the call and plunging the bedroom back into the silence of the woodland property. He tossed the phone onto the nightstand, letting it slide against the wood, and shifted against the headboard.

"What was that for?" Luc asked, struggling to map the shift in the room's atmosphere. Just seconds ago, she had been smiling, leaning over his shoulder, pressing a warm, supportive kiss as he read the roster announcement. The pride radiating from her had been immense. Now, she was glaring at him like he had just committed an error.

Juliette pulled the toothbrush from her mouth, holding it in her hand as she stared him down.

"Going back home?" Juliette repeated, her voice deceptively quiet.

Luc frowned, the gears in his head turning as he replayed the sentence he had delivered to Max.

"For now it's a figure of speech, Jules," Luc explained, his tone defensive. "The tournament is hosted in the United States. It's the national team. It's where I'm from. I just meant we are heading stateside for the camp."

"I know, Luc," Juliette countered, her bare feet shifting against the carpet. "And I know what national team duty entails. I am aware of everything involved. What I am asking about is the immediate certainty in your voice when you said it."

Luc stared at her, the confusion refusing to dissipate. "It's a national duty call-up. For a major international tournament. I didn't think there was any issue with what I said."

"There isn't," she agreed, taking a step closer to the edge of the bed. "But you didn't even pause. You didn't take a breath. You didn't look at me. You immediately told your teammate you were packing your bags and crossing over."

Luc had spent the last few months operating in a state of continuous forward momentum. Every decision, every session, every tactical shift had been dictated by the pursuit of the Ligue Alpha title, the domestic cup, and the Golden Boot. He had programmed his brain to attack the next objective the second it appeared on the horizon.

When the USMNT roster dropped, his footballing autopilot had engaged. He saw the target, and he committed to it.

He had forgotten to consult his partner.

"Juliette," Luc started, keeping his voice calm, recognizing the fragility of the moment. "It's the Copa America. It's not a meaningless mid-season friendly against teams nobody cares about. It is one of the biggest international tournaments on the planet, and they are hosting it on home soil. Do you think I shouldn't go?"

Juliette hesitated. The rigidity in her shoulders dropped a fraction, the irritation giving way to something more complicated. She looked down at the toothbrush in her hand, then looked away, staring toward the curtains that shielded the room from the morning sun.

"Of course you have to go," Juliette said, her voice losing its edge. "With your forty-seven goals this season, you tore this league apart. You forced a federation that ignored you to beg for you to come and lead their forward line. I know what this means for your career. I know what it means for your legacy. I would never, ever tell you to decline that call-up."

"Then what did I do wrong?" he asked gently.

Juliette turned back to him, her dark eyes reflecting a vulnerability she rarely allowed to surface.

"I just wanted you to discuss it with me first," she admitted. "Just for a minute. Just a conversation before you committed to another challenge."

She sat down, the thick fabric of the white robe pooling around her legs. She pulled her knees up slightly, resting her elbow on her thigh and leaning her chin into her hand. It was a rare pout.

Luc looked at her, the distance between them on the massive bed feeling a bit too vast. He pushed the tangled sheets aside and crawled across the mattress, closing the gap until he was sitting right beside her.

He didn't speak immediately. He looked at the slope of her shoulders, the messy knot of her hair, and th frustration radiating from her posture.

"We are settled," Juliette murmured, breaking the silence before he could. She didn't look at him, keeping her gaze fixed on the far wall of the bedroom. "We literally just finished balancing our lives in the city. We moved into this house in the middle of nowhere specifically so you could have a sanctuary. So we could have a sanctuary. Away from the noise, away from the media, away from constant surveillance."