Chapter 19 Baird
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BAIRD
The air felt sticky and heady, the humidity so high the lads and I had all discarded our training shirts within the first five minutes. Sweat lashed off us and we were constantly stopping to hydrate.
Usually there was a comfort in the familiar shouts between my team.
The sound of the coaching assistants’ whistles.
The laughter and the filthy jokes. The smell of deodorant and sweat and fruity electrolyte sport drinks.
When I was younger, it was the smell of grass that made me feel at home.
But now the turf was a hybrid mix of natural grass and synthetic for better durability.
It didn’t smell like the pitches I grew up on.
The pitch wasn’t the reason I didn’t feel at home here lately.
It was strange being here without John.
A hard smack on my shoulder drew me out of my daze, and I turned to find Callan at my side, so drenched in sweat, he looked like he’d just showered. We all did.
“I miss him too.”
Fuck.
He was a good pal, Callan. Nothing got by him.
“Aye.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Place doesn’t feel the same.”
“Agreed.”
“He’s doing all right, though. Braden called me this morning about an issue with planning rights. I sent John to go see what’s up. I think he’s surprised by how much he’s getting into it.”
Callan took a swig of his sports drink. Once he swallowed, he nodded. “Good. Maybe he’ll stay.”
“I hope so.”
“Is that the only thing bothering you this morning?”
I avoided my mate’s perceptive gaze. “Just gearing myself up for this afternoon. Got another video shoot for the Pennington’s campaign.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
“Oh, aye, it’s my life’s dream.”
Callan snorted. “I don’t think any of us expected this thing to take off like it did.”
Certainly not me. I mean, I thought it might grow some legs, but it had grown arms and legs and extra heads. The kiss I’d shared with Maia in the club last week had gone viral after people posted it online. Pennington’s were salivating over how invested people seemed to be in our romance already.
The kiss was fucking hot. I was more than a wee bit proud of it. And I might have been smug and elated about how into that kiss Maia was, if she was still talking to me.
Okay, it wasn’t like she wasn’t talking to me.
But ever since she’d had a panic attack at the club and I’d taken her home and looked after her until she fell asleep, Maia had been distant. She’d erected a wall between us.
I glanced at Callan, considering asking him for advice. Then I reconsidered on the basis I didn’t want to come off as being a cling-on fiancé. Not that Callan would … well, we took the piss out of each other all the time, but we knew when to be serious and there for each other too.
My mate side-eyed me. “You want to ask me something?”
Grimacing, I hesitated.
“Is it a relationship thing?”
I nodded.
Callan turned toward me, shrugging. “Hit me with it.”
Ach, fine. “Has Beth ever … like … opened up to you and then totally shut you out afterward?” I scrubbed a hand over my beard, feeling weirdly vulnerable.
I did not like to be confused when it came to the female sex.
It was not normal for me. Growing up with a mum and sister, I thought I understood women better than most blokes.
I was starting to realize, however, I’d gotten most of my information from Ainsley, and my big sister was quite possibly the most laid-back, commitment-phobic lassie I knew.
For instance, Ainsley had never called me out on the flirting shit because she was the same. If she found a person attractive, of any gender, she was all up in their space with the flirting.
My guidepost for women was me with tits.
Turned out that wasn’t the best guidepost.
Maia … she had me in fucking knots.
Callan shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, Beth was pretty closed off at first because she thought I was only interested in sex. Maia has your ring on her finger. Why would she do that? Unless … she’s embarrassed by whatever she opened up to you about? Some folk hate feeling vulnerable.”
“Aye, that’s what I was thinking. Doesnae mean it doesnae fuck me off she thinks she cannae be vulnerable with me,” I replied, my accent thickening with my irritation.
I thought Maia and I were finally making some headway.
The kiss in the club was real.
She started to believe it when I told her how gorgeous she was, how much I wanted her.
And when she let me take care of her after her panic attack, I thought I was finally in.
But since then, she’d dodged seeing me, sent me one-word responses to my texts, and was avoiding my calls.
I started to feel like a few of the lassies I’d slept with who’d gotten the wrong idea about what a one-night stand meant.
I’d never been deliberately cruel to a lassie, but I’d ghosted a few. Now I felt bad about it.
A whistle suddenly blew sharp and piercing, accompanied by frantic shouts. Callan and I jolted, looking toward the direction of the sound and then Callan was running toward the opposite goal where the team’s backup goalkeeper, Peter Klintberg, had been training with a few players.
I took off after Callan as our teammates surrounded two players lying on the pitch.
As I processed what was happening, I slowed to a stop, the blood rushing in my ears. The ground seemed to pulse up toward me in waves, and I squeezed my eyes closed, forcing myself to breathe slowly so I wouldn’t pass out.
“He’s not waking up.”
“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Freddie, Freddie, can you hear me?”
“He’s out cold.”
“What happened, Peter?”
“I didn’t see.”
“It was me and Kaito,” Baumann spoke. “We were messing around.”
“Freddie. Freddie!”
“Call an ambulance. Now!”
I opened my eyes, watching as our medic rushed across the field and Baumann roared at the coaches to call an ambulance.
“Move.” The medic pushed Callan aside and opened Freddie’s eyes, flashing a light in them. “Concussion.” He pulled his fingers away from Freddie’s temple and they were covered in blood.
Fuck.
Fuck!
This wasn’t happening.
My chest tightened as I stood there unable to move, to help.
“What happened?” The gaffer stood in front of Kaito and Baumann as the medic checked Freddie’s vitals.
He wasn’t moving.
Fuck, he wasn’t moving.
He was just a kid. He’d barely even started.
“I was showing Eric how to land with feet after kicking ball in air.” Kaito’s voice shook. “Freddie … Why? He jump to header ball as I kick. And I kicked … how to say … much force. I hit Freddie.”
Stupid, stupid.
“Why would he do that?”
“He didn’t realize. He just jumped in to take the ball.” Baumann shook his head. “Stupid fucking kid.”
“Show some respect,” Callan spat.
Baumann flinched and nodded.
Through all of this, I said nothing. Watched as the paramedics appeared on the field and placed the still-unconscious Freddie on a stretcher.
“Baird. Baird.”
The ground swayed under me.
“Baird!” Callan suddenly filled my vision, green eyes hard with worry. “Mate, you all right?”
I blinked, coming out of my trance to realize Freddie had been loaded into the rig and the rest of the team were heading off the field.
Callan had his hands on my shoulders. “You all right?”
I stepped back, giving him a half-hearted cocky grin, even though it felt like my heart was about to explode out of my chest. “I’m fine. It’s Freddie you need to worry about.”
“He woke up on the stretcher. Hopefully, it’s just a concussion.”
“Aye, that’s good.”
“Do you … do you need to talk?”
“Nah, mate. I need a shower. Then I need to get going.” I clapped him on the shoulder, grinning broadly. “All good,” I lied and then took off across the pitch, forcing myself to walk straight, feeling any second now like I might pass out.
There were a couple of private shower cubicles, and I snagged one.
Inside, I concentrated on breathing in and out like I’d shown Maia. I ran the water cold, and the shocking sting of it grounded me. I dressed and left before Callan could say anything more, but I was exhausted. At least I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out anymore.
Despite the exhaustion, something beyond restlessness buzzed in my veins.
Something reckless and wild.
I needed to blow off steam.
I needed … to feel in control in the most out-of-control way I could think of.