Chapter 14 Kieran #2
“Everyone who can’t stand to see me succeed: the press, idiots on social media; even the fans come for me sometimes. My own supporters can turn after one bad game. I get called a thug, overrated, aggressive. I get blamed for breaking someone’s leg when it was an accident.
“People call me a dirty player. I’m not.
I just don’t hold back, because I’m paid to win.
I fucking like to win, and I won’t apologize for it.
It doesn’t make me a bad person. No one cares about the charity stuff or the money I put into community projects where I grew up.
Everyone is just waiting for me to slip up.
I go out for the night and if I’m photographed anywhere near a woman, people make all kinds of assumptions. ”
She sighed. “I get it. The press is awful. I got nominated for an award a couple of years ago, and the first question I get on the red carpet is ‘Who designed your dress?’ Did anybody ask who designed your suit when you picked up your La Liga Player of the Year award? Imagine if you spent your life hearing He plays football so well . . . for a boy.”
I tried to keep my surprise from my face. She knew about that award? It had been years ago.
“Please. I don’t want to fight with you.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I’m stressed enough as it is about tomorrow.”
“What are you stressed about?”
“I hate stuff like this. Being on camera. Being the center of attention.” She slipped her glasses back on and peered out at the expanse of fields with a faraway expression. “I don’t know what to expect. What if they want us to play football?”
“Is that a problem?”
She shook her head. “The physio has signed off on me playing again. I just haven’t really . . .”
“You haven’t played since the injury?”
“No.”
I’d sprained my ankle pretty bad when I was at Madrid, and I’d feared it would be worse.
That had only been a minor one. I couldn’t imagine the worry after a major event.
As a footballer, your body is your livelihood.
You have to hope that if you treat it well enough, it will come along for the ride with you in one piece.
But some of this is out of your hands. We’re all human.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If something feels uncomfortable, then we tell them no. I’ve got your back all the way.”
She shot me a dubious look. A twinge of guilt pulled at me. I hadn’t meant to put the boot in with her, but I’d upset her with my shitty attitude.
“I have got your back.” Some strange impulse possessed me, and I tilted her chin up with my finger so she’d look at me, because this was important. “I promise.”
Her eyes locked with mine. A beautiful flush raced across her face. I dropped my hand and let it hang awkwardly by my side. I shouldn’t have been touching her. Friends didn’t touch each other like this.
“I’m sorry. Put me in whatever boat you like, but if you want the truth, I’m perpetually single, and I don’t want to fight either,” I said.
Her lips parted in surprise. “Why are you perpetually single?”
I had a ton of reasons I’d reel off when Mum or Jack grilled me about my commitment issues. It was one of their hobbies when we got together over a Sunday roast dinner. I’m married to football. I don’t have the time. I’m too stuck in my ways to share my space. None of them rang true in this moment.
There was something about Joanie’s soft eyes that deserved the truth.
And the truth? The truth was something unpalatable.
A heavy weight on my ribs. The truth was something just out of my grasp that I didn’t let myself dwell on.
I’d hardened my heart because of the father who had walked away.
I didn’t want to be like him. Why put myself in a position where anyone counted on me?
I chose an excuse. “There will always be distractions, but I’m focused on football.”
“Is that what women are to you? Distractions?”
“I have no time for anything else.”
She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Going by all the photos on the front page, you have plenty of time for partying.”
A pulse beat in my head. I shouldn’t have encouraged her to sass me, since she was so good at it.
The partying must have looked bad from the outside.
The truth was, I hated the clubbing scene.
I was too old for it. I’d rather be in bed binge-watching Friends with a cup of tea.
But I had to keep an eye on Jack. Joanie had formed an opinion of me, and there wasn’t much I could do about that.
“I’m not like the guys on the team that treat women like dirt. My mum raised me better than that. I keep that part of my life private.”
She swept a stray lock of gold behind her ear. “Have you ever had a serious relationship?”
This was what she did. She asked these probing questions in that soft voice with those wide, innocent eyes, and before you knew it you were spilling your guts. It was like a magic trick.
“My longest relationship was six months.”
“What happened?”
“We drifted apart.”
It had been my fault. Talia was married with kids now. I missed her sometimes. It had been nice to have someone to take out and spoil. It had been so long since I’d had someone to snuggle on the couch and watch TV with. I didn’t do normal things like that anymore. It was another life.
“What about you? When was your last relationship?”
She wrinkled her nose and pressed her lips flat. “It’s not worth thinking about.”
“What happened?”
“It didn’t last long. I was flattered that someone was interested in me. The other girls on the team get that kind of attention all the time . . . my sisters, too. I don’t really . . .” She adjusted her glasses.
Weird to think that she didn’t have guys sliding into her DMs all the time. Joanie was the complete package. She was beautiful inside and out. She was quiet and unassuming, the type to be easily overlooked, but anyone overlooking this woman was making a mistake.
“Go on.”
“He texted me all the time, wanting to know everything about me, and he would always get me flowers and gifts. I’d never had anything like that before .
. .” She chewed her lip, lost in thought.
Her voice was small and faraway. “Then I overheard him talking about me and laughing. It was . . . personal stuff. Disrespectful. In that moment, I felt like I was worth more.”
A hurt shadow crossed her face. Who was this fucking piece of shit? Joanie didn’t deserve anyone’s disrespect. Every softly spoken word made me more frustrated. If I could get my hands on this guy, he’d regret shattering her trust like this.
“That’s dating for you.” She swallowed and peered up at me. “So, no, I’m not interested in Ramirez . . . not like that. I’m also perpetually single.”
She raised a wry eyebrow. A beautiful, shy smile curved her lips. “Besides, who’s going to put up with me?”
Anyone. Everyone. Anyone would be lucky to have you.
We’d drifted so close. An invisible tension thrummed between us.
Could she feel this? Did she like me? I didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought about me.
What did it matter if she liked me or not?
She bit her lip. I tried not to stare at the movement.
I had this weird sensation like I was falling backward, like one of those inane team-building exercises, trusting someone to catch me.
Better to keep things light with banter.
You always knew where you were with banter—safe and at a distance.
“Look, we’re both Calverdale. We’re in this together. You can think I’m prickly and hate me if you want—”
“I don’t hate you, Kieran.” A beautiful pink flush raced across her cheeks.
I kept my voice breezy, but my heart pounded at her closeness. “Good.”
She bit her lip again, but she wouldn’t look at me. “Good.”
“Friends, remember?”
She shot me a shy smile that wrapped me in her softness. “Yes. Friends.”
Friends. My stomach sank. It would have to do. That’s what Joanie needed, and it’s what I’d promised. “We’d better get some sleep. We’re both facing imminent serious internal organ damage by having to drink this shitty drink tomorrow.”
Although, I had no chance of sleep. Not when I’d be thinking about her in her bed just across the landing from mine. What else could anyone expect from a man like me?