The Fly-Half (Lincoln Knights #2)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Jonny

Watching Devon leave the pitch was tearing my heart in two.

Seeing him in pain made me want to howl and scream, and I’d barely managed to keep my composure when Devon had gone crashing to the floor. A haze had settled over my vision as my pulse pounded in my ears, a voice screaming in the back of my head to do something, anything, to defend him.

I’d taken a deep breath as the rage had risen in my chest, snarling and snapping and threatening to lash out at whoever was closest to me.

Counted to three.

One.

Two.

Three.

Taken another breath and uncurled the fist that had formed at my side.

Opened my eyes to see Mason watching me with wary eyes, waiting to see how I’d react and whether he’d need to tackle me to the floor before I got a red card for behaving like a complete twat.

I’d nodded at him and taken another breath, then closed the gap to Devon and began calling his name, hoping he wasn’t out cold.

And now I had to watch him walking away with a black eye and a potential orbital fracture, knowing there was nothing I could do except my job.

As a player, I was supposed to be good at compartmentalising but this was testing my abilities to the limit. Because how could I put Devon in a box and pretend nothing had happened? How could I forget the way his face had swollen and the way he’d hissed when Meredith had barely touched him? And how could I pretend he hadn’t called me out in front of everyone, telling me not to do something I’d regret?

And then there was the last thing we’d said to each other before he’d walked away.

I hadn’t been intending to tell him I loved him, not like that. I’d wanted it to be special. Romantic. Not thrown out on the middle of a rugby pitch during a medical emergency. But it was so fitting for us I almost wanted to laugh.

“Are you okay?” Mason asked as we walked back to reform the scrum so the match could restart. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m… I don’t know.” I let out another deep breath and rolled my shoulders, trying to focus on the task in front of me. “I’m glad he’s all right but I wish I could go with him.”

“I know.” Mason put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “He’d be fucking pissed at you, though.”

“Yeah, I’d never hear the end of it.” I managed a small smile. “Just gotta… put it in a box. Forget about it.”

“No,” Mason said with a shake of his head. “Don’t forget. Use it as fuel. Just don’t let it control you. Embrace the rage, but channel it.” He grinned at me. “Like D&D.”

I snorted but his advice was actually helpful. “Think we can roll a nat twenty on this scrum? Get the ball across the line.”

“Only one way to find out.”

We reformed the scrum, barely three meters from the goal line. A couple of the guys clapped me on the shoulder before we crouched down. All of us were feeling the pressure now and we couldn’t let ourselves crumble. Not when we were so close.

The simmering anger under my skin was still there, threatening to run wild and ruin everything. But I wasn’t going to let it control me this time.

As I crouched down and grabbed the back of Hunter’s and Gabriel’s shorts, I closed my eyes for a second and thought about Devon. I pictured his smile over breakfast every morning, the look of complete calm on his face before he took a kick, the rumpled expression he wore when he woke up and wasn’t quite awake, still clinging to the vague hope of going back to sleep.

I thought about my need to protect him and my desire to make him proud. To be worthy of his love.

He already loved me, but that didn’t mean I could do less. I had to prove to him I could be the man he thought I was.

The whistle blew and I moved, hauling Hunter and Gabriel up and locking into place behind them, my arms around their thighs and my head between them as the two scrums collided. Muffled voices yelled as we pushed forward, trying to force them to give. I could see the ball on the turf where Matty had put it in, slowly rolling towards me, nudged by various feet.

My moment would be brief, barely a couple of seconds. Everything I did had to count.

I broke away and grabbed the ball, ducking out to the side of the scrum. There were people there waiting for it, but I wasn’t going to pass. I barrelled on, my desire, my love, and my anger fuelling me as I surged towards the line. The Angers players tried to stop me, but I didn’t give a shit, using every bit of my strength to push through them.

My body skimmed across the cold turf as I slid across the line with the ball cradled in my arm, putting it on the grass as the crowd erupted. The whistle blew and I slowly picked myself off the ground, only to be smothered by joyous teammates.

“You fucking did it,” Bailey yelled as he threw himself across my shoulders while Kegan and Danny clapped me on the chest.

“Yeah he did,” West said, appearing from behind me with Mason and Jaden, a smile on his exhausted face.

“And you managed not to punch anyone,” Mason added with a proud smile.

“There’s still time,” I said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, we’ve still got another… what, fifty minutes to play?” Mason asked, glancing at the clock as we walked down the pitch so that Avery, Devon’s substitute, could take the conversion. “Fuck me, I’m going to need a lie-down after this.”

“Do you think the gaffer will let us have pizza in the dressing room?” Jaden asked. “I’m starving.”

“Maybe,” Mason said. “They’ve done it for us before.”

We watched quietly as Avery lined up to take the kick. He was only nineteen and still very green around the edges, but he had a solid head on his shoulders and a good work ethic. Somehow, I’d managed to get the ball down pretty close to the left-hand side of the posts, so it would be a fairly straightforward angle for him to kick from.

As the ball dropped neatly over the bar, I couldn’t help but think about how Devon would have done it with a little more style.

Two hours later, I found myself walking into Lincoln Hospital with my phone in hand, hoping I’d be able to track Devon down. I was sore and exhausted because I’d ended up playing the full eighty minutes so Clive could bring on fresh legs in the front of the scrum and at the wing. My stomach was rumbling too because all I’d had after the match was a snatched-up slice of pizza Mason had brought me so I didn’t miss out.

But I’d figure out food and rest later. The first thing I needed was to find my boyfriend.

My trainers squeaked on the hospital floor as I followed various signs, trying to track down where Devon had said he was, then doubling back on myself when he said he’d moved again.

“Jonny!” A familiar voice called out to me as I rounded a corner and saw Tommy, the assistant head coach, jogging down the corridor towards me. “I was just coming to find you. Devon said he’d sent you on a wild goose chase.”

“How’s he doing?” I asked as I followed him towards another set of double doors, stepping out of the way of a nurse who was coming the other way.

“Not too bad. It’s definitely an orbital blowout fracture, but it’s a fairly minor one all things considered. He shouldn’t need surgery unless something changes, but he’s got one hell of a black eye.”

I nodded. I’d been expecting that given what had already been forming when he was on the pitch. “How long will he be out for then?”

“At the very minimum, three to four weeks. Then they’ll do another X-ray and see how it’s healing.”

I winced and grimaced. The thought of being without Devon for that long wasn’t a pleasant one, but out of the two of us, I wasn’t the one who was going to suffer the most. Devon would be miserable within a week and insufferable within two. He’d be begging me to take him to training and if I wasn’t careful, he’d start following me in a taxi because he’d be desperate to get out of the house. And since it was the run-up to Christmas, there’d be nobody around to keep him company. “He’s not going to like that. Have you told him?”

“I didn’t,” Tommy said with a half smile. “He wouldn’t listen to me, so I let the ophthalmologist do it. But you’re right, he didn’t like it. He should still make it to the Six Nations, though, as long as he rests.” His grin widened as we reached the doors. “I think he’ll have a good incentive, though.”

“Oh?” I asked, trying not to hope he might mean what I thought he did. I hadn’t had a call but that didn’t mean Tommy didn’t know something.

“I didn’t say anything. Just keep your phone on you this week.”

My head was spinning but I didn’t have time to process what Tommy was hinting at because the doors had opened out into a small waiting room, and sitting there on a small plastic chair was the love of my goddamn life.

He was still wearing his kit except for his boots, which had been swapped for a pair of trainers, and he even had his strapping tape on. The right side of his face was swollen and the skin around his eye had turned dark purple with a pinkish tinge around the edge. His eye was open now, but there was a bloodshot tint to it.

“Jonny,” Devon said softly as soon as he saw me, his lips cracking into the tiniest smile. “You came.”

“Hey, angel,” I said, crouching down in front of him and clasping both his hands in mine. “You doing okay?”

“Been better. It fucking hurts.”

“I bet it does.”

He tried to grin again. It was slightly lopsided due to the swelling. “Do I still look pretty?”

“The prettiest,” I said as I lifted his knuckles to my mouth and brushed a kiss over them.

“Liar.” He snorted and then winced. “Ow. Fuck, that hurt.”

“Did they give you some painkillers?” I asked, looking between him and Tommy. The list of what medication we were allowed to take when we were playing was limited, but if Devon was out of action for a while, it’d be different.

“Yeah, I’ve had some,” Devon said. “And I think I’m getting some to take home. We’ve got ice packs, right? I need to put ice on my eye.”

“Er, I think there’s a couple at mine,” I said, trying to rack my brains. Given the regular list of injuries we ended up with, Mason and I had amassed a fairly solid first aid kit—which was nothing more than a box under the kitchen sink we’d filled with stuff. There was everything in there, including painkillers, gauze, tape, plasters, supports and a couple of splints, a hot water bottle, Voltarol, Sudocrem, and a ton of other bits and bobs we’d picked up over the years. “I can ask Mason to stick them in the freezer.”

“Do you think he’ll mind?”

“No, of course not,” I said as I kissed his hands again. “Do you want something to eat? Do you think you could manage anything?”

“I don’t know. My face fucking hurts, so I don’t think chewing will make it better.”

“How about a milkshake? And some ice cream—maybe like a McFlurry? And some fries.”

“Are you offering to take me to McDonald’s?” Devon asked, his eyes lighting up as he looked at me. “Please don’t tease me. I need this.”

“I’ll take you to McDonald’s on the way home,” I said. “And then you’re going to come back to mine so I can keep an eye on you.”

“Deal.” He leant forward and kissed me softly. It wasn’t anything more than the barest touch of his lips, but it was the most perfect kiss he’d ever given me. “By the way, how’d we do?”

I grinned as I sat back slightly. “We won.”

“Holy fuck, really?”

“Yeah, by two points. And I didn’t get carded or lose my shit. In fact, I actually scored the first try.”

“That is because you’re fucking awesome and I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.” He threw the words out so casually before grabbing my face and trying to kiss me again, a pained sound escaping when he realised he’d gone for something fierce instead of soft.

“I love you too. But maybe don’t do that,” I said, gently kissing him and then letting him go, my hands still gripping his tightly. I couldn’t believe I could say those words. I was going to say them so many times he’d be bloody sick of them. “At least not until the swelling has gone down.”

“Not kissing you feels illegal,” he said. “But I can’t argue because—” He gestured at his face then looked up at Tommy, who was watching us with a mixture of amusement and slight awkwardness, like he was worried he was intruding or something. “Can I go home yet?”

“Should be able to,” Tommy said. “We’ll find a nurse and ask.”

“Good,” Devon said, settling back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “I want to go home with my boyfriend.”

I smiled and kissed his fingers again. Despite the circumstances, it was the happiest I’d ever been in my life.