Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Daisy
I push the cold nose off my cheek and squint at the faint light coming through the curtains. “Go away, Westley.” He leaves me with a faint whimper and my eyes fall shut. I press a finger between my eyebrows and attempt to rub away the incoming headache. I shift my head and frown when there’s a tugging sensation at my scalp. Checking over my shoulder, I gasp in outrage when I find Westley chewing on the bottom of my braid.
“Fine, I’ll get up,” I grumble. The clock’s glowing an offensive six o’clock, so it’s time to get ready for work.
I slip out of the soft sheets with a yawn that cracks my jaw, and Westley jumps off the bed and skitters out of the room when I open the door. I find him by the door to the back garden, and he whines when I walk too slow. My eyes roll fondly, and I open the door for him. He launches himself off the deck and onto the grass, prancing through the dew and finding the perfect place to do his business. I close the door against the crisp air, swiftly sweeping my sleepiness away, and cross my arms as I watch him to make sure he doesn’t escape Jamie’s garden.
I rub my head again and blow out a slow breath. Jamie. The most helpful and amazing human who kept me significantly calmer than I would have been without him. Who helped me find my puppy in bare feet after a long day of training and then made me stay with him so I wouldn’t be alone.
I used his shower .
And he hugged me and wiped tears from my face and ordered food for us and made sure I was comfortable. Something in my stomach flutters as I let Westley inside. He darts past me, claws clicking on the dark hardwood floors, and when I turn, there he is. Jamie, crouched on the floor to rub behind Westley’s ears exactly how he likes it. Dressed in the same soft shirt my hair wet last night and baggy track pants I have to concentrate not to look at. His black hair is mussed with sleep and a faint line from the sheets bisects his left cheek.
It’s true what I told him last night. He is my best friend. I just didn’t realise it until he was the number I called in an emergency. It was Jamie I wanted with me. Not Sage or Poppy or Liam, but Jamie .
He’s my most used contact, and it’s not even for work. Most of our texts are about interviews we hear on the radio or a new TV show one of us started. I didn’t realise until last night. Didn’t realise we message every day after work and that it’s something I look forward to, something that’s turned into more.
I flush when he stands and stares at me, remembering the warmth of his arm around my hips. Of my head on his arm and his large, gentle hand on my face. I swallow harshly and ignore the swirling in my stomach.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Tired. Stressed. Annoyed at him, but really glad we found him.” I step closer to Jamie and make a decision.
We broke our unspoken rule of not touching last night, and I could really use another one of his hugs. To be completely surrounded by him. I glance at his dark eyes following me, duck my head, and wrap my arms around his waist, squeezing tight and sighing into his chest. His arms wrap around me, one around my shoulders and the other on my waist, and it feels right.
“Thank you, Jamie. Thank you for helping me find him and making me stay here so I wasn’t alone and—just, everything. Thank you for being you.” My hands run up to his shoulders and back to his waist.
“Of course, Daisy, of course I’d help. I’d do anything for you.” He clears his throat roughly. “I don’t like seeing you upset.” He clutches me closer and rests his cheek on my hair. His breathing ruffles the strands, tickling my scalp and sending shivers down my spine.
I lean back to see his face. “I’d do anything for you too. You know that, right?”
And I would, I just didn’t realise until yesterday. Stupid, not realising someone is so important to you until a crisis happens, but I know now, and I need him to know he’s not alone in this. Whatever this is.
He nods and shifts his arm from my shoulders to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and rubs a finger over my cheekbone. “Yeah, I know.”
“Good.” I reluctantly step out of his arms and hold my hand out, wiggling my fingers until he slaps it gently, but this time he doesn’t just squeeze my fingertips. He grasps my hand, turns it over, and presses a kiss to my knuckles like a fucking Jane Austen hero. Our eyes stay locked the whole time, and all I want to do is tug him back into my arms.
He releases my hand and it drops to my side, tingles running from my fingertips all the way to my chest. “Come on, let’s get ready or we’ll be late.”
I follow him to the kitchen, limbs numb, and blink at him. When I kissed him on the cheek last night, it was to thank him, to show some affection after the ordeal. It didn’t hold more meaning than that. But… I want to grab his shirt, pull him to my level, and feel his lips on mine.
What the fuck is happening?
“I don’t have any of that green stuff, but we can buy some on the way.”
I nod and sit on a bar stool. Is he more than my best friend? Do I have more feelings than friendship? My eyes track over his face, his full lips, and messy hair, the crease on his cheek from his sheets, and a strange comforting warmth spreads through my stomach and chest, and I smile at the picture he makes. It fades quickly, and my stomach drops.
I’m so fucked.
* * *
It’s my turn to drive but Jamie does instead claiming I’m traumatised by last night. He’s not entirely wrong about the traumatised bit. I cleared it with Adam to bring Westley with me today—he just needs to stay out of the way—and I set him up in a corner away from everyone. I don’t want him out of my sight, and I need to figure out how to block the gap in the gate before I leave him in the garden. And also Poppy feels bad about it even though it’s not her fault. I don’t want to stress her. She doesn’t deserve that.
That’s how I end up at a café on my break, sitting outside in the wind with grey clouds threatening rain, with Westley at my feet chewing on a toy, and Liam staring at me across the table over his cappuccino.
“He what?”
“He ran away.”
“Not Westley, what did Jamie do?”
“He helped me find him and made me stay with him.”
Liam rolls his eyes. “And the bit about the hugging and wanting to kiss him? What about that?”
“What about it?” I lean down to pat Westley and avoid Liam’s eyes.
We’ve been friends since second year uni when we both ended up living in the same six-person flat that tested the health code. He was doing an English degree while I studied sports science. And even though I don’t read the fantasy books he writes, and he doesn’t watch the TV shows and movies I love, we bonded over rugby. He’s the one that got me into it.
Before Liam, I was focused on netball and hadn’t watched many rugby games despite being born and raised in Auckland. My parents weren’t interested in it and neither was Sage, so besides playing a few touch rugby games in PE at school, I hadn’t been exposed to it.
Watching that first game with Liam? It transformed me. Caught my attention and it hasn’t shifted yet. Not even when I played a game and came away with a sprained ankle and a cut on my knee I still have a scar from.
“You know exactly what. It’s taken you this long to realise you treat him differently than your other friends?”
“We work together.”
“You have special handshakes with the other players and kiss their cheeks?” Liam stares at me intensely.
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. And I only kissed his cheek once,” I mumble.
“It means everything. It means you’re comfortable with him. You never kiss my cheek.”
“That’s because you’re my friend, and I don’t—” I cut myself off and swear violently.
He sips his coffee. “Exactly. I’m your friend, and in the nearly ten years we’ve known each other, you’ve not once kissed my cheek. Because you do that to people you want to fuck.”
“Hey!” I glance furtively around the café and hope no one’s listening.
“Fine,” he amends. “People you want to be in a relationship with.”
My head drops into my hands, and I rub my temples. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I work for him.”
He scoffs. “No, you don’t. You both work for NZR. You’d probably only need to sign a disclosure form and stop treating him.”
Technically, Liam’s right. We’re both contracted by New Zealand Ruby, so I don’t work for Jamie, but he is my patient. I’d be breaking the patient code of conduct if we do anything while I’m treating him. I could lose my licence. “But I like treating him.”
“If you stopped treating him, you might be able to date him.”
Also technically true. Though hazy with former patients, if our relationship developed away from the professional environment, which it did with the carpooling, it wouldn’t be as huge of a code of conduct issue.
“I know, but…” I raise my head. “I don’t know if he wants that, and I don’t want to throw him off his game during the championship or make him uncomfortable.”
Liam’s probably right. I’d talk to management and sign something to make sure there wasn’t a power imbalance and Adam would take him on. But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or assume anything. And I don’t want to talk to him about my newfound feelings in the middle of the championship and throw him off.
“He’s a dude. He’s a dude you carpool with, and he helped you find your dog and made you sleep in his house and probably dried your tears. He wants that.”
“But how do you know that? What if he’s just being nice?”
“Because I’m also a dude, and when I want to sleep with a guy, I do the same thing.”
I scowl at him. “You’re deliberately nicer to them because you want sex?”
“No.” He rolls his eyes. “I go above and beyond for them because I want them to know I care for them. That they’re on my mind. The same thing you both do. Even if it’s just a friend thing, you clearly care about each other. Just think about telling him. Maybe after the season when you both have more free time?”
“I’ll think about it,” I promise. And I will. This is all new, and it seems like a jump to talk to him when I’ve just started realising my feelings might not be as platonic as I’d thought. “How’d the meeting go?”
“Great. They’re really happy with the pitch, and my agent’s organising everything.”
Liam’s in Auckland to meet with his publisher to discuss his new book. He doesn’t need to come up to meet them, but whenever they call a meeting, he flies up from Wānaka to see me and his family.
“That’s so exciting. Congratulations.” I squeeze his hand. “How many do they want?”
“A trilogy,” he says with a grin.
“Liam, that’s amazing! Another fantasy series to take the world by storm,” I say in a dramatic voice. “Robots and magical planets.”
“I write fantasy, not sci-fi, but thank you. I’m flying back tonight and will hole up with my laptop and probably won’t see you for five months.”
He’s a pasty-white colour only reclusive redheads can achieve. He doesn’t even have freckles anymore from his lack of sun. And he’s not entirely wrong about not seeing him for months when he’s in draft mode. He usually responds to his messages on Fridays, and then I don’t hear from him for another week. If not longer. I know when he’s hit a block by the amount of memes he sends me during the week.
“Want some company for the week to make sure you leave the house?” I ask coyly.
His eyes narrow. “Who? Why? It’s not you. You’re flying out in a few days.”
“Match day squad dropped today.”
“Ah. Who was left out?”
“Hemi. He’s been given the week off. He’s having some issues with his shoulder, but he’s not injured. He’s overthinking it all.” It was announced on the radio on the way to work so it’s public knowledge.
We knew Jamie was on the squad because he didn’t receive a call from Alex. Alex always calls the boys who don’t make the squad before the announcement. If you’re on the match day squad, no phone calls are good. Being given the week off though, from the match and training? That means you need a break and everyone’s noticed. It also means the coaches are trying out fresh blood, and you better come back better than before.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Let him stay with you, away from everyone, and he can get out of his head to relax.”
Liam shakes his head. “You think staying with someone he’s never met before will help him get out of his head? That wouldn’t work for either of us.”
“No, but it means he’s away from Auckland and his teammates and will be surrounded by nature to relax. The air’s fresher down there.” Crisper than the pollution in Auckland.
“I don’t think he’ll want that.”
“He already said yes because he’s desperate to sort his head out.” I smile widely at Liam. “Please? He needs some space. He probably won’t even talk to you. And if he does, it’s because I told him to take you out so you don’t die from a Vitamin D deficiency.”
Liam scrubs a hand over his face, and I know what his answer will be, which is the only reason I mentioned it to Hemi. “Fine. Give me his number and I’ll set it up, but I’m only doing this because I love you.”
I laugh. “You’re doing it because you have a crush on him.”
“Who wouldn’t,” he mutters.
I give him Hemi’s details and hug him goodbye, very aware of the fact I don’t have the inclination to kiss his cheek.
“Good luck in South Africa. And think about what I said.” Liam waves goodbye and heads towards his hotel.
As if I’ll be able to think about anything except Jamie, and the fact my brain has apparently decided to acknowledge I’m interested in more than being platonic.
Much more.