Chapter 303: [303] "Good for both of you"

"Good for both of you, really, it’s great," Juliette laughed, tossing the slices of bacon into the heating skillet. The meat hissed, the rich smell filling the kitchen space. "He spends too much time analyzing. He needs someone to pull him out of his own head."

Talia watched the bacon sizzle. "He is different when the doors are closed. At the cafe, he was so precise. So controlled. Even at the party last night, he sat in the corner staring at his teammates like it was a study session. But last night... in his room..."

Talia trailed off, the flush deepening on her face. She shook her head, grabbing a loaf of sourdough bread from the cutting board and picking up a bread knife.

"He wasn’t...the same," Talia finished, slicing the bread with attention.

Juliette cracked four eggs into a glass bowl, grabbing a whisk. "They carry a lot of stress. Playing at this level, fighting for titles, dealing with Valérie. They hold all that tension in their shoulders for months straight. When they finally let it go, they tend to let it all go at once, and in full swing."

"How do you handle it?" Talia asked, setting the sliced bread aside. She looked at Juliette, seeking actual advice. "The lifestyle. The cameras. The fact that his mother owns the team and bought this entire estate. It feels overwhelming. I am just a university student. I serve coffee as part time. He dictates matches on national television."

Juliette poured a splash of milk into the eggs and began whisking. The sound echoed over the sizzling bacon.

"You handle it by ignoring the noise," Juliette advised, her tone shifting to the grounded, administrative calm she utilized ever so often. "The cameras are always going to be there. The money is always going to be there. If you focus on the scale of his career, you will go insane."

She set the whisk down and turned to face Talia.

"You look at the person," Juliette continued. "Luc is the Golden Boot winner. He is the captain. But to me, he is just the guy who leaves his wet towels on the bathroom floor and complains when I make him eat vegetables instead of steak. If you strip away the Valois crest, Hugo is just an eighteen-year-old kid who likes you very much. Treat him like that. Hold him accountable. Be normal. That is what they crave more than anything else. Normalcy."

Talia absorbed the words. She looked around the kitchen, the expensive appliances, the luxury of the twin house, and then looked down at the oversized shirt she wore.

"Normal," Talia repeated. "I think I can do normal."

"Good," Juliette said, turning back to the stove. "Now put that bread in the toaster. We have hungry athletes to feed."

---

Out on the patio, the sun climbed higher, warming the stone beneath their feet.

Luc leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He looked at Hugo, the amusement fading into a professional demeanor.

"Max woke me up some time ago" Luc stated.

Hugo picked up his tablet, tapping the screen to wake it. "I am aware. The United States Men’s National Team released their roster for the Copa America preparatory camp at midnight. Your name is on the list. Max Caster is also included."

Luc stared at him. "You read the USMNT release? Dang man."

"I checked out all international call-ups pertaining to our squad," Hugo answered, his eyes scanning whatever data he had pulled up on the screen. "It is vital to understand the load my teammates will endure during the off-season. Your inclusion too. You scored forty-seven goals across all competitions. Ignoring a striker with your conversion rate would be negligence by their federation."

"It still feels unreal," Luc admitted, looking out at the tree line. "I left the American system not up to a year ago. I came here because of she who should not be named. I grinded, fought my way to the top of Ligue Alpha, and built my entire identity in France. Now, they want me to wear the crest."

"Do you intend to decline the call-up?" Hugo asked, setting the tablet down.

"No," Luc answered, the competitive fire hardening his gaze. "I am going. They host the tournament. It is a major stage. I want to test myself against the South American teams. I want to see if I can hold up in international waters."

"You will," Hugo assured him. "Your profile and spatial awareness are elite. International football is often less tactically cohesive than club football due to the lack of training time. A striker with your individual problem-solving will thrive in chaotic environments."

Luc nodded, accepting the analysis. He looked at the eighteen-year-old. The European Championships were also scheduled for the summer, running concurrent with the Copa America.

"What about you?" Luc asked. "Did the French federation drop their list?"

Hugo reached for his coffee mug. He took a slow sip, his face giving away nothing.

"Decampes contacted Valérie yesterday afternoon," Hugo said, setting the mug back down. "He informed her of his decision before the public release to ensure the club was prepared for the media coverage."

Luc leaned forward, his pulse ticking up. "And?"

"I have been called up to the France senior squad for the European Championships," Hugo stated.

Luc slapped his hand against the armrest of the lounge chair.

"The senior squad," Luc repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are eighteen fucking years old, Hugo. They are skipping the under-21s for you. Amazing. They are putting you straight into the first team squad for the Euros."

"The French midfield requires a specific profile to dictate possession," Hugo analyzed, trying his best to act immune to the magnitude of his own achievement. "Several veteran players suffered injuries late in the season. My performances in the Cup final and the final stretch of the league aligned with Decampes’ requirements. It is a logical progression for me, upward on my ladder of achievements."

"Stop talking like a scout," Luc laughed, reaching over and gripping Hugo’s shoulder, giving it a firm shake. "You just made the French national team for a major tournament. That is massive. You are going to be playing alongside the best in the world."

Hugo looked down at his hands. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

"It is an opportunity," Hugo conceded. "Valérie has already scheduled a press conference for tomorrow to capitalize on the announcement. The commercial implications are extensive."

"Forget Valérie and the commercial implications," Luc said, his voice turning serious. "You earned this on the pitch. You anchored our midfield all season. You deserve to wear that blue shirt."

Hugo looked up, meeting Luc’s gaze. "Thank you, Captain. I expect the training will be rigorous. The demands of the French setup are complex."

Luc reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out his phone.

"We need to call the guys," Luc announced, unlocking the screen. "We can’t just sit here and pretend half the squad isn’t getting called up. We need to check in on them man."

He opened the team messaging app, navigating to the main group chat labeled ’Valois First Team’.