Love Heals

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Blurb:

A black people, millionaire, sports romance story. Physiotherapist Rachel thought that her fling with Emilio da Costa was a thing of the past. So imagine her surprise when the black Brazilian pro soccer player walks into her clinic following an injury! It doesn’t take long for the sparks to fly yet again…

And maybe now they’ll finally be able to make the relationship work! But love isn’t always a walk in the park… It’s more like an obstacle course, with unexpected twists and hurdles!

Will their relationship survive the trials that come their way? Or should they have never tried to rekindle a romance that might’ve been doomed from the start? Find out in this African American romance novel by Shamika Louis.

Chapter 1

Emilio’s parents had emigrated from Brazil when he was twelve years old. While he was still there though he spent his time with siblings and cousins and playing soccer on pavement and getting into fights. His father had had no qualms about disciplining his children when they acted out, and even as a teenager Emilio had been on the receiving end of his father’s belt on more than one occasion. He’d fondly told Cameron, his roommate, stories as they washed the dishes together, Emilio drying while Cameron had soap up to his elbows. The time he hit his brother with a spatula and got a face full of soapy water when his father smacked him over the sink. When he’d thrown his cleats at a lamp in a fit of rage and his father whipped him with one of them — studs away, thankfully.

Being a dark skinned, curly headed kid had placed him very low on the totem pole even in Brasilia which was a melting pot of Spanish, Portuguese, African, and Asian descendants. But what really put him at the bottom of the food chain was how poor his family was. They came to America with not much more than the clothes on their backs and a promise from a third cousin that Emilio’s dad would have a job in his gardening business.

They lived with Carlos Da Costa for three months before his father had enough saved to rent them a one bedroom apartment. Emilio continued to play soccer on the street with his brother, introducing the neighborhood kids to the game. The middle school he went to had a sports program which consisted mostly of basketball and soccer. Emilio put together a group of fourteen students, which stayed back after school every day for soccer practice using a basket ball. After a month of dedication and a good word from the soccer coach, the school acquired a few soccer balls and offered to brainstorm with the students on how they could raise money for uniforms. Soccer was not that popular in the country but the group was able to get small business sponsors after the local TV station did a feature on them.

Thus Emilio made things happen for himself, leading his team to win the regional championships in their first year of existence even without a legitimate coach. It was such an inspiring tale that in the next year, he had scholarship offers from various schools. But Emilio chose to stay with Highridge School and his soccer team.

His notoriety grew though; he was famous for his skills, and his ego. Luckily for him the former far outweighed the latter. It wasn’t long before the college coaches came calling. And the professional scouts. Emilio was no scholar though, and he knew what he wanted to do with his life; play soccer. It was his passion, and also a connection to his roots. He wanted to spit polish and shine his skill, hone his talent and bring the glory home. Just like all those other soccer greats did before him; Ronaldo, Rivaldo, Ronaldhino, and Roberto Carlos. Too bad his dad hadn’t had the foresight to give him a name beginning with R. But no matter, his name would be up there with theirs sooner or later. By the Virgin, he would make it happen.

When MLS Soccer Academy came calling, the only one who was truly surprised was his brother, Pedro.

“It’s coz you ain’t never had faith in me bruh,” Emilio said.

“Fu*k outta here. Who helped you form your first soccer team punk?”

“Yeah okay. Okay. Anyway, you know I ain’t gon’ forget the little people when I make the big time huh?”

“Oh the little people my big fat ass,” Pedro replied slapping him companionably on the shoulder.

“The little fat people,” Emilio called over his shoulder with a laugh and streaking away before Pedro could retaliate.

*****

It was Monday night, the night of the USA/Portugal match in the 2014 World Cup. Knowing that Cameron was a huge fan of US soccer, Rachel had invited him over to watch the game with her, she herself a long-time fan of international soccer. She was still new in town and wasn’t in touch with many people. But she and Cameron had been close a long time.

“When did you start watching soccer?” he asked her.

“You mean football? Since forever ago. You’re looking at Riverdale High School’s all time leader in assists.”

Cameron almost spit out his beer from the shock.

“Oh really? Huh, didn’t take you for an athlete.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked in an irritated tone.

He laughed, shaking his head.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I know you’re tough as nails, but I’ve seen you run…”

She laughed, “Yeah, well, it was a long time ago…but I was fierce.”

“Oh I have not doubt about that…” he teased, looking at her. A smile spread across his face.

Rachel was smiling back at him with affection. They’d met on the first day of training camp; she’d been on her first internship and nervous as hell. He’d noticed her jittering from one foot to the other and had come up to talk to her, inadvertently making her laugh. She tried to resist his brand of douchey over-friendliness but gradually realized that resistance was futile. Cameron was in her life to stay. He’d introduced her to many of his team-mates as well and she’d taken care of him when he broke his metatarsal. He decided to quit rather than work his way back, went back to school and became a sports commentator. It suited him better.

The score was 2-1, USA with 15 minutes remaining. At the next commercial break, Cameron rose from the couch.

“You want another beer?” he turned and asked.

“Sure.”

Upon returning, Cameron handed Rachel her drink.

“So why the fascination with Portugal? I mean, where is the patriotism? Or is that strictly a work-related thing for you?”

“Hey, I’ve been a fan for quite sometime. I mean soccer was a joke in the US…who was I supposed to cheer for all this time?”

“So it’s not just about Ronaldo?” Cameron teased again.

“Well, he’s just icing on the cake!” she smiled.

“Of course…”

“Hey, I know an attractive man when I see one,” she scolded him.

“Do you now? Hm.” Cameron smirked then turned back to the TV. She considered his suggestion.

“Yes, I do.”

There was an awkward silence between them now.

“Just because I work with soccer players everyday doesn’t mean I don’t see what’s in front of me, Cameron. I’m not blind.”

Okay…maybe she shouldn’t have had that last beer. She may have just cross the line with him.

Cameron turned away from the TV and gazed at her, this time a little more intently. He opened his mouth and then closed it, choosing not to go there…just yet.

Rachel, sensing the rising intensity between them, turned back to the TV.

“I can’t stand this…what is wrong with them?! They need to stop fu*king around with the ball…” she yelled.

With five minutes remaining, Cameron started to gloat.

“We’re taking this one…I can feel it!”

“Oh please…they still have time to put one in. This was far from over…” she argued.