Chapter 13
Turnover: When the possession of a ball switches from one team to the other unexpectedly.
Translation: Rugby boy is caught on his heels.
Wolf
“Oh my God, I am pissin’ myself,” Cliona cackles on the other end of my phone where I have her propped up on the gate of the
mini horse’s empty stall in the red barn. We’re on a FaceTime call, so she’s getting a full view of me after working two weeks
at Mount Millie. I’ve now completed my afternoon job of mucking out the barn before bringing all the livestock in for the
night.
I have no idea who I am anymore.
I have blisters all over my hands, my body feels sorer than it does after rugby training, and I’ve shoveled more animal shite
than I ever wanted to see in my lifetime. Not to mention, I smell like a mixture of hay, sweat, and alpaca piss.
Every day.
This is my scent every day.
I’ve taken to rinsing off in my boxers in the shower outside the barn in hopes of not bringing my stench up into my apartment.
And I’m pretty sure there’s a piece of straw permanently embedded in my sock that’s driving me absolutely mental.
“So, just to recap your first couple weeks,” Cliona says, her eyes wet with tears from laughter.
“You now sleep next to a pet lizard. You also manhandled an alpaca, got chased by a goose, tripped over your boss’s daughter three times, and accidentally let out all the cattle because you didn’t get the pasture gate closed properly? ”
I sigh heavily and nod, which just makes her laugh harder. The cattle fiasco was a proper mess. All the Fletcher lads had
to come down in their quads and help round them all up. The oldest one, Wyatt, looked like he wanted to throttle me. The second
one with the tattoos yee-hawed and yelled, “Yippy ki-yay, motherfuckers,” and the youngest one—Luke, I think his name is—handed
me a six-pack of beer afterward like I’d earned a medal.
The only saving grace of a mostly awful day was that Everly wasn’t around to witness that epic failure. Thank feck for that.
“I’m lucky I haven’t got sacked yet,” I grumble and pause as I lean against the gate and wipe my damp forehead off with the
hem of my shirt.
“Ah, go on. I’m sure you’re doing great otherwise. You did a nice thing for them by taking the lizard too. Is that little
Stevie girl still following you around everywhere?”
“Yes,” I reply instantly. “And she won’t stop calling me Nana. I had to explain it to her dad, who looked at me like I was
a weirdo.”
Cliona erupts into another fit of giggles while I pull my gloves off and scowl back at her. “Are you about done yet?”
“I’m done, I swear.” She settles after a moment and sighs heavily while her smile turns more thoughtful. “Have I thanked you
lately for doing all this?”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve only texted me thanks three times a day every day since I left.”
“Well, I mean it.” She licks her lips and gets a pensive look in her eye. “I know you wanted to give up on rugby after your last match, but we’ve both worked too bleedin’ hard to give up now. You remember our shared birthday wish when we were sixteen?”
My jaw tightens as I nod. “To be the first boy-girl twins to both play for Ireland in the Rugby World Cup someday.”
“Exactly. And we can still do it. We can still take the rugby world by storm, Wolf. You just need to turn your image around,
and I’m certain you’ll get called back to Ireland soon enough. Leinster even. I’m talking you up to my coaches all the time,
and they talk to the men’s coaches. And heck, maybe all this mountain farmyard work will be good for your rugby game if you’re
out there wrestling alpacas.”
I shake my head and try to hide the fact that playing the game doesn’t appeal to me as much as it once did. So much has happened
in the past several years. Heavy things. And I hate that it changed my relationship to the sport that once saved my life.
“How’s Everly doing?” Cliona asks, thankfully not noticing any of my inner musings.
“Alright, I think,” I reply, my body stirring to life at the mention of her name. “Why are you asking me?”
“Um . . . because you work with her.”
I eye my sister harshly. “It’s funny that you failed to ever mention that when you told me about this job. Almost like you
wanted me to be surprised by it.”
“I did not,” Cliona retorts defensively, guilt written all over her face. “It just never occurred to me to tell you.”
I roll my eyes at that. Cliona was always begging me to be nicer to Everly. I was as nice as I could be, especially since
nice isn’t exactly my forte. And being nice to her these past couple of weeks has made my thoughts about her get even more
muddled than they already were.
I refocus and attempt to answer my sister’s question.
“I think she’s alright, but I don’t see her every day.
She does admin work from her cabin a lot, or at least that’s what her aunt said.
” I shudder when I wonder how nosy I must have seemed when I asked Trista about Everly the other day.
I tried to get Stevie to ask her, but the little shite just wants to poke me in the leg and ask annoying questions every chance she gets.
“I text her photos of Rugby whenever she asks.”
Cliona makes a noise into the phone.
“What?” I stop my work to look back at my sister.
“Nothing. I just worry about Everly. The girl doesn’t know when to stop working.”
“You can say that again,” I murmur under my breath, my mind flashing back to the notebook of information she brought on her
first day of work. It reminded me of her at Mulligans during her matchmaking events. The way she’d pore over that notebook
like she was on the brink of solving some difficult puzzle. She doesn’t do anything by halves, that one.
“You know you could work on having a bit of fun while you’re there too.” My sister narrows her eyes at me. “It’s not all just
about work and rugby.”
“I haven’t even started the rugby bit yet. And I am having fun.”
“Are you? ’Cause as far as I can tell, you look like you’re being punished instead of having a potentially life-changing experience.”
“Aren’t I being punished?” I ask, my tone grave.
Cliona sucks in a sharp breath. “Is that really how you feel?”
“A little.” I offer a small shrug, and my sister’s face bends with guilt.
“Moon, no. I hate that. I don’t want this to feel like that at all. Please tell me you’re joking. I would hate myself if you’re
only doing this for me.”
I flinch and force a smile I don’t feel. “I’m just joking with you, Sunny. I’m fine.” I swallow the knot in my throat and
add, “I’m even going with Everly to one of her . . . friends’ . . . houses tomorrow night for a party,” I mention, refusing to call that Hilow lad her ex. He didn’t give ex-boyfriend energy. He gave . . . I’m-desperate-for-anything energy.
“Really?” She clasps her hands in front of her face. “Oh, go on, that sounds lovely. I’m wild with jealousy.”
“Yeah, we’ll see how fun it really is,” I reply knowingly as I turn to look out the window of the barn, up toward Everly’s
cabin.
I find myself looking up the mountain toward her cabin at night quite often, imagining what she does in the evening. I’ve
half wondered if I’d see a strange car outside her place because that Hilow bloke weaseled his way over, but it’s been pretty
quiet over there.
Been pretty quiet everywhere, really.
I like Fletcher Mountain and all. The views and the nature are grand, but I’ve always been a city lad surrounded by people.
Grew up with my sister right next door to me. Then at uni, I lived with my teammates. We went from training—to studying at
pubs—and then back to training. I miss that. Even the lack of traffic noise up here has me out of sorts.
“The party is in Boulder, so I’ll get to see some signs of civilization, at least,” I add with a rueful laugh.
“That’s the spirit,” Cliona cheers excitedly. “Oh, I can’t forget to tell you—you’ll never guess who I ran into at the pub
this week.”
I frown as I glance up from what I’m doing.
Her eyes look grave when she answers, “Finn.”
“Finn Murphy?” I ask, my chest instantly tightening as she name-drops a blast from my past. I drop the pitchfork and walk
over to grab the phone. “Did you talk to him? How is he?” I ask, blinking back at her.
“He looked good. Well. Healthy.”
I nod and exhale heavily. “That’s good.”
“Said he was getting married.”
“What?” I ask, my jaw dropped. “Married?”
Cliona shrugs. “That’s what he said.”
“Christ,” I murmur, blinking back my shock. “Bit young for that, aren’t we?”
Finn Murphy was my best friend for over a decade. Growing up, we were thick as thieves until secondary school, when I started
playing rugby and we sort of grew apart.
Cliona shrugs. “I passed on a congratulations from both of us. He asked for your address to send an invitation.”
“Did he? That surprises me. We haven’t spoken in years.”
“Well, you two were close at one point in your life, and I’m sure he wants you to see him happy.”
“That’s great. I’m happy he’s happy,” I reply, putting the phone back in place so I can get back to work.
“You should try to be happy too,” she says firmly. “Let yourself have a bit of fun this weekend. Everly too. Anyways, it’s
late here, so I must crash. Keep up the good work. I’ll call next week to hear how your weekend went. Night, Moon.”
“Night, Sunny.”
I hang up, feeling grateful for that little life update on my childhood friend. I always worried about Finn and how he got
on in life after we stopped being mates. It brings me a bit of comfort to know he’s doing well.
Feeling lighter, I step out of Handsome’s stall and bend to grab the handles of the wheelbarrow when the scrape of footsteps
stops me in my tracks.
I look up to find Wyatt Fletcher standing in the dutch doorway of the barn, blinking back curiously at me.
“Oh . . . you’re down here,” he says, glancing at the bag in his hand.
“Yeah, sorry,” I reply, gesturing to what I’m doing. “I was just about to bring the animals back in after I empty this.”
“No need to be sorry.” He frowns and hesitates for a moment. “I was just going to leave these on your steps after I took care of Millie, but since you’re here . . .” His voice trails off as he walks over and hands me a large white shopping bag.
I look inside and frown. “Work boots?”
He nods. “Those sneakers you were wearing chasing the cattle around Wednesday are not going to last another week. These should
hold up better.”
I pull the boots out and note that they’re steel-toed and expensive-looking. And thankfully not cowboy boots like what Everly,
Trista, and Stevie wear. I’d look like a proper fool in a pair of those.
But these? These are decent. And they’re something I know I needed. I was even planning on purchasing something similar when
I got to town next because this job is a bit more labor-intensive than I originally expected. Only problem is, I’m not really
used to shopping for myself. Cliona would always do that, often forcing things I didn’t need upon me. Dressing me up like
she could fix me in one of those ridiculous makeover films.
I could use a bit of that now. Transform me from looking like a foreign rugby player into a proper farmhand who picks up giant
alpacas like it’s his job . . . because it is now. But I don’t want that from the husband of my boss. It feels wrong. Like
I’m imposing when it’s something I should do for myself. I take pride in doing shite for myself.
“I appreciate the gesture, but I can’t accept these,” I state, my brows furrowed as I hand the bag back over to Wyatt.
He frowns. “I could exchange the size if we guessed wrong.”
“It’s not about the size. I’d just prefer to buy my own boots if you don’t mind.”
Wyatt’s eyes narrow. “What if I insist?”
My brows lift, but I straighten, refusing to let this man intimidate me into accepting a gift that I know cost a decent amount of money, no matter how nice he’s trying to be. “The same way you insist on being the only one to muck out Millie’s pen?”
This causes Wyatt to pause, and the corner of his mouth tugs up. “Very well, then, Wolf.”
“Thank you though, Mr. Fletcher. Truly.”
“Call me Wyatt . . . please. That, I will insist on.”
I smile and nod. “I appreciate the gesture, Wyatt. I just like to make my own way in life.”
“Fair enough.” He huffs a soft laugh and hooks his thumb down toward the pens. “I’m going to go tend to my favorite girl.”
He presses a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. “Don’t tell my other favorite girls.”
I smile and nod. “Your secret is safe with me.”
And I finish my work for the day, leaving the grumpy mountain man to his goat and me to head upstairs to take care of my bearded
dragon and prepare for a night out with Everly Fletcher tomorrow. If someone had told me this would be my life a year ago,
I never would have believed them. But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m enjoying this fresh start in Colorado. It feels
almost as though I can be the person I want to be and let go of my past and the things that haunt me still. Now if only I
could let go of my fixation on Everly Fletcher.