5 #2
After more than a year of watching my sister settle into her new role—moving from Formula One to Cricket—I’d learnt the difference between casual notifications and the ones that mattered, along with the ringtone my sister reserved specifically for her manager.
The rapid buzz usually meant something urgent from work.
Raina grabbed her phone and glanced at the screen. Whatever she read made her expression shift almost instantly. Not panic. Not excitement either. Something tighter…something close to caution.
I took the opportunity to turn back to the counter, emptying the contents into the blender. The familiar routine gave my hands something to do while silence settled behind me again.
The blender roared to life for a few seconds, loud enough to swallow the tension in the room whole.
But when I switched it off and turned around with the glass still in my hand, neither of them had moved.
Oliver had moved closer to her, looking down at the phone screen. Raina’s mouth had pressed into a thin line, her thumb hovering uselessly near the edge of the device like she still hadn’t decided what to say.
My stomach sank a fraction.
“That about me, then?” I asked flatly.
Raina’s eyes lifted to mine for a second before flicking away again.
“It’s just...” She exhaled quietly. “My manager sent over an idea for a piece.”
Oliver’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
I already hated where it was going.
“What kind of piece?”
Neither of them answered immediately, which told me enough on its own.
She cleared her throat. “A piece on Maeve Knox.”
The kitchen suddenly felt too warm despite the cold drink in my hand.
“This is not being announced until the next week,” She continued as Oliver placed a comforting hand on her back, a sign he could see the anxiety seeping into her skin just like I could, and I knew the source of it was the worry for my reaction.
“But, she’s being hired as the one of the official Physiotherapist for England Lions.
At least for the training camp in Abu Dhabi and the tour to New Zealand.
They’ll re-evaluate her role after that.
But Hazel wants me to do a profile on her…
and she wants me to do an exclusive piece from you and your reaction to her study. ”
Something hot and ugly twisted low in my stomach.
The same woman whose study had half the cricket world looking at me like I was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off on a pitch somewhere.
With the international tour coming up, every spell I bowled, every hit I made, every game I played, would be dragged apart by commentators and analysts, every movement scrutinised, every bad day would be turned into proof that my body was already giving up on me, all because of ‘my personality’.
They’d question my place in the only part of my life I’d never had to doubt before.
The only thing that had been imposed one, and that I’d still carved into something that belonged entirely to me.
All because of the research she’d published.
And now she was being rewarded for it.
The word No sat on the tip of my tongue, and I had to bit it hard enough to make it bleed. I was suddenly so angry I could feel it buzzing beneath my skin like static.
I stared past them both for a moment, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Then I dragged a breath in through my nose.
“I’ll do it,” I gritted out.
Raina blinked, clearly not expecting my response. “You will?”
“On one condition.”
Her shoulders straightened slightly. “What?”
I set the smoothie glass down on the counter with a dull clink. “You write a piece for me too. Alongside a press statement.”
Oliver frowned faintly, but I kept my eyes focused on Raina. “But it goes out exactly one minute after Maeve’s announcement does.”
Raina’s expression shifted slowly from confusion to dawning concern. “What statement?”
“That I’m letting go of Dad as my sports manager.”
Silence slammed into the room as Raina’s eyes widened slowly with each second passing by. It would’ve been comical if I wasn’t being serious.
Even Oliver looked caught off guard by my statement.
Raina broke the silence. “You’re serious?”
“Very.”
The concern on her face deepened almost instantly. “What did he say to you?”
I shook my head, silently saying let it go, but she continued, clearly unable to bite her tongue.
“Look, I’m just trying to understand what happened earlier,” she said carefully.
“Because if you refused to cut him off after finding out he lied to you for years, had an affair our entire lives, and the fact he has a secret love child that basically forced our mother to abandon you, and still somehow finds ways to verbally tear you whenever he feels like it...” She exhaled sharply.
“Then whatever happened today had to be worse for you to suddenly do something this impulsive.”
“It’s not.” I leaned back against the counter, forcing my voice to be steadier than I felt. “And before you start, no, this won’t destroy my career. People fire managers all the time.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she said quietly.
But I knew exactly what she was worried about.
Me.
The fact I’d spent years making excuses for our father, swallowing every sharp comment and every manipulative guilt trip because somewhere along the line it had become easier than admitting how badly he got inside my head.
Oliver stayed silent beside her, though his expression had tightened in that way it always did when Dad came up.
Like he was restraining himself from saying something far less diplomatic.
Over the years he’d always taken up the patient approach of being there for me, instead of forcing me out of a relationship with my father.
But after discovering what he’d done to Raina, he’d taken more than one opportunity to make his stance clear.
He did not want him to breathe the same air as her—as us, ever.
“I’m serious about this, Rai.” My grip tightened slightly around the glass. “I should’ve done it months ago.”
Her eyes searched mine carefully, like she was trying to figure out whether this was anger talking or something colder.
“And the timing?” she asked. “You wanting this released straight after Maeve’s announcement has nothing to do with her?”
I let out a humourless laugh. “Of course it does.”
Raina’s brows pinched together immediately.
“It’s not like I’m asking you to ruin her career,” I said before she could argue.
“It’ll barely affect her story for more than a day.
But if people suddenly focus on me firing my father as my manager, then maybe for five bloody minutes I get some control over what’s being said about me in the media. ”
I pushed a hand through my hair, frustration simmering hotter the longer I spoke.
“For the last twenty-four hours, all anyone’s done is question whether I should even still be playing this sport.
Last year was one of the best years this team’s ever had once Oliver took over captaincy and I stepped in as vice-captain.
We won every single home Test series, and we’re considered as favourites for the Championship.
We won the T-20 World Cup, and even with the ODI side struggling at points, we still finished as the highest-rated team overall.
Not one person questioned my ability while the trophies were pouring in.
But one research paper is enough for everyone to suddenly act like I’m on a fast track to retirement at twenty-five. ”
Oliver’s expression darkened slightly, giving me a nod, like he knew where I was coming from.
“And now the coaches, the medical staff, the board, everyone who signed off on me playing is being dragged into a review by the board because of the comments he made on live television...” My jaw tightened. “While she gets rewarded for causing the stir in the first place.”
Raina rubbed at her forehead briefly before looking back at me. “You realise that’s still slightly unhinged.”
“Probably.”
“And incredibly petty.”
“Definitely.”
Oliver finally spoke then, dry amusement threading through his voice. “At least he’s self-aware.”
Raina, however, still looked torn.
Raina glanced briefly toward Oliver before looking back at me. “Hazel might not even approve something like that running alongside the Maeve piece.”
“Then don’t run it through Hazel.”
“What?”
“Do it through your own company.” I shrugged one shoulder. “Hell, I’ll do a live interview if you want. A video statement. Keep it in line with the kind of content you already make.”
That only seemed to make her more uneasy.
Her mouth parted slightly before she stopped herself, and I could practically see the question sitting there.
What happened today?
She didn’t ask it.
Instead, she said carefully, “This feels bigger than you’re making it sound, and I’m not sure making an enemy out of your coach right now is the smartest move.”