Chapter 26
Sam
THE SEASON OPENER dawns like nearly every other day the past two weeks: tangled in Colin’s arms, sore from whatever position he’s bent me into the night before. He’s awake, sitting in bed and scribbling on the yellow notepad that I’ve realized is almost always within arm’s reach.
He looks over and grins. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
I accept the kiss he deposits on my forehead and pull him to me for an actual kiss. “Good morning,” I tell him. Then an icy realization hits me. “Shit. What time is it?”
He glances at the clock on his side of the bed. “Seven-thirty. Why?”
I bolt upright. “Shit. Shit! I promised Ollie I’d make him breakfast this morning.” I throw the covers off and hit the floor, searching for my clothes before remembering he peeled them off me in the living room last night.
Colin’s brow knits. “Really?”
“Really,” I shoot back, already moving downstairs to get dressed.
I’m shoving my feet into my shoes when Colin appears, a ball cap on backwards and wearing the one pair of track pants he owns along with a Granite tee.
He holds his keys up. “I’ll drive you.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
We pull up to my apartment fifteen minutes later. As he throws the SUV into Park, I undo my seatbelt and open the door.
“Wait,” he says, reaching for me.
But I’m already out of the seat and waving. “See you later, Coach! It’s a big day!” I shut the door and ignore the way his expression falls.
The metal stairs pound beneath my feet as I run without a backward glance. Once I’m inside, I check my phone once more and am relieved to see Ollie hasn’t reached out yet. I type out a message.
Hey little brother! Ready for your traditional season opener brekkie??
Wait – seriously?
Do you really think I’d joke about this?
Be there in fifteen.
I give the message a thumbs-up and race to the shower. I’m in the kitchen with the kettle on as he knocks and opens the door.
“It’s game day!”
He rounds the corner into the tiny kitchen and his eyes land on the stash of goodies I had Mum send. “No way.”
My answering smile is huge. “Got it last week. Do you know how hard it’s been not to eat it all myself?”
The spread is everything Ollie’s missed from home: Cheezels, Cadbury Dairy Milk, Tasmanian Mint Kit Kats, Chicken Crimpy Shapes, Vegemite, a near-criminal amount of John West canned tuna, a bag of Allen’s Killer Python lollies, and tins of tea.
The water in the kettle boils and I pour it over his favorite tea, then push the steaming mug toward him.
He slathers a piece of toast with avocado and Vegemite and takes a giant bite, chewing contentedly as he waits for the tea to steep. “This is amazing, Sam. Truly. Thank you.”
“Aw, you’re welcome, Olls. It’s the best I could do since we’re half a world away, you know?”
He pops the rest of the toast into his mouth and chews. “It means so much.”
Just then, my iPad rings with a FaceTime from Mum. “Right on time,” I say with a smile, sliding my finger on the screen to answer it.
“Mum!” Ollie exclaims.
“My sweet boy,” Mum gushes. “You ready for your first game? Show those Americans what’s what.”
“Yeah, nah, yeah!” he answers, the Aussie coming back in full force as they talk.
I putter around the kitchen, chiming in every now and then but making sure to give them time to talk. After half an hour, I hear Mum’s soft yawn.
“Oh, Mum, what time is it there?”
She smiles. “Little after one.”
“You must’ve set an alarm to wake up and call, yeah?”
“An easy thing to do for my boy’s first game,” she answers.
They wrap the call pretty quickly after that, and Ollie gives me a grateful smile as I take the iPad.
“Thanks, sis,” he says. “I needed that. Needed this.” He nods at the spread before him.
“Happy to do it,” I say. And I am. My baby brother is love in its purest form.
How no one’s tied him down is a mystery – either at home or here in Atlanta.
I have my suspicions, but don’t want to be the person to pull him into the light until he’s ready.
Besides, he’s clearly having fun with…whomever.
“Days like this, I miss Dad,” he admits softly, turning the Vegemite container in circles on the counter.
“Me, too.” Then I grin. “Can you imagine how he would behave on a day like this?”
“He’d be stoked. Absolutely worked up and losing his mind.”
“He would’ve been here, all kitted out in Granite gear and sitting front row.” I smile at the image.
“Yeah,” he says, his smile mirroring mine. He touches his chest. “He’s here, yeah?”
I put my hand over my heart. “He’s always here.”
He swallows, then shakes his head. “Yeah. You know, Coach helps a lot, though.”
I struggle to keep my expression neutral. “How’s that?”
“I know I probably came on to him pretty hard, like a puppy finding a new best friend or something. But there’s just something about him that feels…like home. He’s a great mentor for me. No one replaces Dad, but Coach is the next best thing for me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and force a smile. “Of course.”
He pops a Cheezel into his mouth and frowns. “What’s up with the two of you, anyway?”
“What do you mean?” I turn and pour myself a cup of tea, eager to busy my hands.
“I mean the two of you, I don’t know, there’s a tension there. You’re never easy around each other. Did something happen?”
Which part? The part where we got married in Vegas, or the part where I let him bend me like a rag doll every night until I’m hoarse from screaming his name?
Clearing that thought from my mind, I look back at Ollie and hope my voice is even as I speak. “No, nothing happened.”
His expression clears. “Okay. Good. Because you two are the most important people in my life over here, yeah?”
I can’t ever tell him. The thought lands like a bomb in my gut. He can’t ever know. Not now, not even years from now. It would absolutely devastate him.
And it’s not the “my coach and my sister are doing the nasty” part.
It’s the part where his coach ran out on his sister.
It’s the part where his coach asked his sister to keep quiet like a dirty secret.
I can’t ever let Ollie think less of Colin, because Ollie has had enough tragedy in his life. I won’t add to it.
So I smile brightly at him. “We’re all good, Olls. Nothing to worry about.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” I clap my hands together. “So, call time at the pitch is noon?”
“Yeah – how’d you know?”
I blink, thinking fast. “I’m part of the staff, kiddo. How else do you think I’d know?”
He chuckles. “Of course. You want a ride?”
“Nothing I’d like more than taking my life into my hands,” I say with a grin.
“I’m a good driver!” he protests, grabbing one last Cheezel and sliding off the barstool before I clip the bag shut. “See you in a bit then.”
Walking into the building later that morning is electric. Even though the fans aren’t here yet, the ticketing and other arena staff are, giving the place a palpable buzz.
Kari finds me at the desk all three therapists use. “What are you doing down here?”
I shrug, not really able to explain my urge to hide.
Never mind that the team has already streamed out, a few of them having been taped up to protect their knees.
Still more taped their ears to keep them protected when they inevitably took a hit to their head in a ruck or a maul, but that didn’t require my expertise.
“Well, it’s an hour to game time,” she chides. “Time to head up to the top. Unless you’re supposed to be on the pitch?”
“I’m due on the pitch in a few minutes,” I say, standing and grabbing the rolls of tape I’d pulled out to throw in my kit.
Between it, gauze, and some blood-clotting mixture, it’s about all we can do.
Rugby rules will let the players keep playing if we can stop the bleeding and get them back on the pitch within fifteen minutes.
I’m not the one who handles that kind of injury – we have a team doctor for that – but you can’t be around rugby almost your whole life and not learn the basics.
Kari holds her arm out for me to thread mine through, and I grab the kit with my free hand. “Let’s go watch some legs, shall we?”
I laugh. “That might be the first time you’ve ever admitted that ruggers are hot, Kari.”
She gives me a wry grin. “Never said they weren’t. But they do annoy the shit out of me.”
I laugh harder. “Fair enough.” We reach the top of the stairs, and I push the door open. “Give Elodie and Rosie my love.”
Kari tosses me a salute and continues going up, her heels clacking on the concrete as she goes.
“You should try dressing down for game day!” I call up to her.
“Never!” she hollers back, the smile coming through in her voice.
I shake my head. The day I see Kari in anything approaching leisure wear will be a day for celebration. Then again, I only own one pair of heels and rarely wear them, so I guess I don’t have much to say.
Stepping out of the stairwell, I’m hit by the scents of popcorn and pretzels.
Fans are everywhere, most of them sporting the black and turquoise of the Granite but a few in the gold and black of the New Orleans Bayou.
Little kids dart through the crowd, and more than one frazzled parent hustles behind them.
I can’t help but smile, because the crowd is so mixed.
People of all ages, genders and ethnicities are here, which is part of why I adore the sport so much.
Our ticket prices are far more reasonable than those for pro football and basketball teams, too, making us more accessible for families in particular.