The Fly-Half (Lincoln Knights #2)

Chapter Twenty-Five

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jonny

I paced up and down the corridor outside the office on the second floor of the training centre, waiting for my watch to hit two. Nerves bubbled in my stomach and I wondered whether taking Clive up on his offer to talk to a sports psychologist about everything that had been going on recently had been the wrong decision.

I’d talked to plenty of sports psychologists before—it was pretty much part and parcel of being a player—but I’d never really talked about anything so personal with one, and I was worried they were going to turn round and tell me being in a relationship with my teammate was the problem and the only way to get over my jealousy was to break up with Devon.

If they said that, my life would be over.

The door in front of me swung open, revealing a hulking man who had to be at least my height or taller and twice as wide with a bald head and skin covered in faded tattoos, which contrasted wildly with the dark green knitted jumper he was wearing with the sleeves rolled up. “Jonny?” he asked in a rough but surprisingly gentle voice with a warm Geordie accent.

“Yeah.”

He nodded and smiled as he stepped back. “You might as well come in. I can hear you pacing.”

“Thanks,” I said, ducking past him and into the office, which was set up for sessions like this with a variety of large comfortable chairs and a sofa, since many of the guys on the team found armchairs a nightmare with their huge thighs. I was always a little worried about getting stuck or breaking something, and more than one of us had a story about cracking flimsy restaurant chairs. The worst one for me, though, had been at my nan’s house and breaking an old wooden chair everyone had insisted I’d be fine on. I’d been fucking mortified when I’d ended up on the floor, but at least Nan had been understanding.

I’d fixed it with a ton of wood glue and never touched it again.

“I’m Wayne,” the guy said as he settled himself on a wide green armchair with no arms, resting one of his ankles on his other knee. He exuded calm and warmth, and a feeling of safety settled over me. He somehow reminded me of my Under Fifteens coach, one of the first people to really believe in me. “How’re you doing? You look a bit nervous.”

“Yeah, a bit,” I said from my seat on the sofa opposite him, my foot tapping as I pulled at my bottom lip.

“Have you done sessions like this before?”

“Yeah, but they’ve only ever focused on my performance as a player and giving me things to help me improve my game.”

“Do you think this isn’t going to do that?” Wayne asked. “It’s not a trick question. I’m just curious.”

“It probably will, but I’ve never really talked about something this personal before,” I said, trying not to sound cagey but knowing I was on the defensive. “Never had an issue like this before, though, so I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, let me start with a bit about me and then you can start at the top and tell me whatever you want to,” he said. “These sessions are confidential, and I’m not going to tell anyone anything unless you want me to. Sound all right?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Good.” He nodded before introducing himself again and running through his qualifications as a psychologist and licensed counsellor as well as a little about how the sessions would work. He wasn’t someone I’d worked with before, and I couldn’t remember seeing him around the building either, and in the back of my mind I wondered if Clive had brought him in specifically to talk to me.

But that sounded ridiculous because I wasn’t special and my problems weren’t unique, so I quickly disabused myself of that notion.

“So,” Wayne said as he settled back in his chair. “Why don’t you tell me, in your own words, what’s going on and what you want to achieve from this.”

I shifted in my seat for a second, trying to put everything in order. Then I decided honesty was the best policy, so I said, “I recently realised I’m queer and in love with my best friend, who’s our fly-half, and he wants me back, which is fucking awesome. Only it turns out I get really fucking jealous and possessive whenever anyone touches him, including guys on the team. I’ve already been sin binned once and only narrowly avoided another card because one of the opposition guys punched me, and Clive told me I really need to get my shit together before I do something really stupid and get benched. Permanently.”

Wayne nodded, compassion and understanding in his eyes. “That’s a lot to go through all at once.”

“Yeah.” I let out a strangled laugh. “The weird thing is being queer, being in love with Dev, none of that bothers me. I’m so in fucking awe of him and the fact he chose me, I can’t imagine being upset or freaked out. Like, that’s my best mate, the one person I can’t imagine my life without, and he wants to be with me ? That blows my mind.”

“And when you say you get jealous or possessive, what does that feel like?”

“Like I wanna hit something,” I said, twisting my fingers together. “Or someone.” I sighed and rubbed my fingers across my jaw. “It’s not because I don’t trust Devon—I know that. I just don’t trust anyone else.”

“What about yourself? Do you trust yourself?”

I thought for a second, my brow furrowing. “Like, not to hurt him? Not to cheat?”

“Yes, but it also depends on what aspect of trust is the issue.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my head already spinning. It felt like Wayne had gone straight for my jugular in the gentlest way possible.

“Is it physical hurt you’re worried about? Rugby’s pretty rough at times, so are you worried someone else will hurt him?”

“Yeah, all the time.”

Wayne nodded. “Do you trust your teammates not to hurt him?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “I mean, it gets physical but it’s only training. It’s never malicious. And sometimes they do stupid shit like pick him up, but that’s what we do. It’s always fun and they’d put him down if he asked.”

I might not have liked Bailey picking Devon up, but I had to accept that was my problem to deal with. I knew it’d only been a game and Bailey wasn’t going to hurt him. And it felt different to when people got physical with Devon during a match.

“All right, so you trust your team. That’s good,” he said. “What about people outside your relationship? Are you worried someone will try and flirt with him?”

“Yeah, I mean he’s fucking gorgeous, but he’d never do anything,” I said. “So they can try, but it’s not going to get them anywhere. And I wouldn’t blame him, by the way, if someone tried something. It’s not his fault people are dicks.”

“Okay, good. Good.” He nodded like he was putting things together. “So, you trust Devon not to cheat, and you know you can’t control the actions of other people. Where do you think your mistrust around other people might come from?”

“What if I’m not enough?” My words were quiet and sudden, catching me off guard as they fell off my tongue. “I love him so much. I think I always have even if I’ve only just realised it’s romantic and not platonic. But what if I’m not enough? What if I hurt him? It wouldn’t be deliberate, but what if I do something and mess everything up? I can protect him from everything else… but not me.”

It was a startling realisation and one that hurt more than anything. It felt like a knife in my heart, twisting in deeper every time I drew breath.

I wanted Devon to have everything. He deserved the whole damn world and more, and I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to give it to him. But maybe if he knew how much I cared… if I staked some sort of claim to show him how much I needed him… maybe then I’d be worthy of his love.

And calling him mine.

Wayne nodded again. “That’s a good start,” he said. “Want to unpack that a little?”

“Not really,” I said with another huffed-out laugh that was half awkward pain and half denial. “But I guess that’s why we’re here.”

Fifty minutes later, I emerged blinking into the corridor with my head spinning and feeling completely emotionally drained, like someone had wrung me out. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry, drink, eat, or lie down in a dark room and take a nap.

But considering I was still at training, the nap and drinking weren’t options unless I could somehow get hold of a can of beer. The canteen would be open for snacks, though, and I could easily find a quiet corner to have a cry if I needed one.

My feet carried me down the corridor towards the stairs as I wondered what snacks I’d be able to get my hands on and wondering if they’d have any ice cream. There was usually a little freezer the catering staff kept stocked throughout the year with mini tubs and ice lollies, because sometimes all you needed was ice cream.

When I got downstairs, I saw a familiar figure leaning against the wall outside the canteen, one leg stuck out with his ankle resting on the floor, his phone in hand. Just seeing him gave my exhausted emotional battery a jump, and I couldn’t help but smile as warmth flooded me.

“Hey,” Devon said as he saw me, putting his phone back into his pocket. “How’d it go?”

“Good, I think,” I said. “It was a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I bit my lip, wondering how much to tell him. I wasn’t sure I could even put it into words, though, not yet.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Devon asked, reaching out his hand and sliding his fingers into mine. “See if the ice cream freezer is still open?”

“Sounds great.” I followed him through the door of the canteen and frowned when I realised it was just the two of us. “Don’t you have training to be doing?”

He grinned and shrugged. “Yeah, but I begged Clive to let me come see you. I’m pretty sure Gavin will make me do shit like a hundred burpees and pick the most brutal variation imaginable, but it’s worth it.”

“You’d do burpees for me?”

“Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t you do them for me?”

I smiled teasingly as we walked through the empty canteen to the ice cream freezer. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe? Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Why I’m doing them.”

“You bastard,” Devon said with a laugh as I pulled him against me, my other hand coming up to cup his neck. “Because you’re my boyfriend. And you… like me.”

We’d both noticed the pause, but all I could say was, “Well, yeah, of course I like you. I like you a lot, Dev.” I kissed him playfully. “But I’m not sure if I like you more than I hate burpees.”

Devon tilted his head back and raised his eyebrow. “Really? You’re going with that.”

I chuckled and kissed him again. “Nah, I guess I’ll do the burpees. But I want a lot of sympathy afterwards.”

“Aww, poor baby, will you suffer?”

“Terribly.”

“How terribly?”

“The worst,” I said, unable to stop smiling as I kissed him again. The blinds were down on the canteen windows, and the lights were off. There was nobody here except the two of us, and it felt like we were in our own strange little world. “Let’s get some ice cream.”

We opened the freezer and grabbed out two tubs of double chocolate, then got ourselves two drinks from the fridge and found some seats, Devon hooking his foot around mine as soon as we sat down.

“By the way,” he said as he popped the lid off of his tub of ice cream. “What are your plans for this weekend?”

“I don’t think I’ve got any,” I said, my brow furrowing as I tried to think of what I might be missing. But my brain was still soup. “Have we got a team thing? We’re going to the hospital next week, right?”

“Yes, and no, not an official team thing. But Bailey found out it’s Matty’s birthday on Thursday, which he kept very quiet, and now Bailey’s trying to organise a last-minute team dinner and night out. I think Matty’s trying to resist because it’s hard to find childcare and Hannah is in New York on an emergency work thing, but apparently Charlie’s girlfriend, Amanda, and Andy’s wife, Katie, have both offered to help with babysitting in the past.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, do you fancy it? It’s like an absolute last-minute thing and I’m not sure he’ll pull it off, but you know how stubborn he and Hunter are.”

“Sure,” I said. “Sounds great. Matty could do with a break. We should get him a present too.”

“Yeah, I thought maybe we could all put some money in a pot and get him something nice. Something for him, not Jack. Because I know most parents don’t get much time for themselves and I’m pretty sure all Matty does is train and parent. So any and all ideas welcome.”

“I’ll have a think. I’m not even sure what he likes.”

“Me neither,” Devon said with a frown. “But someone’s got to know something, right? He had to have hobbies at some point. If not, I’ll ask Courtney for suggestions.”

I dug my spoon into my ice cream and tried to think, but my mind had moved on to being fixated on Devon as he began running through and dismissing ideas. The depths of his care and his determination to make sure we gave Matty the kind of support he gave us were so charming and beautiful.

I still didn’t know if I’d ever be enough for him. Maybe that would never be possible.

But I could try, and I could be aware of my feelings in the hope the simmering toxicity didn’t overwhelm me.

And I could show Devon how much I cared, every single day.

Maybe that would be enough.