Chapter 49
Jamie
“Do you need help?” I lean over Ryan, who’s under the barbell.
“I’m grand.”
“You know you need someone with you. It’s not safe, and you’re a dickhead.”
I help him rack the bar, and he pushes himself up with a hard breath.
“Someone’s in a great mood, I see.”
“No more than usual.”
“Is this about last night?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I sit on the bench next to Ryan. “If Ian made this choice, it must be right for him.”
Ryan snorts, goes all defensive, and braces his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
“Ian is not stupid; he knows sooner or later, he’ll start to feel fatigue, feel his age, and that he’ll never be the same.”
“There is still time. He’s fucking young!”
“For someone who’s always played at the top, accepting decline is harder than walking away at his best. You know that. He’s your brother. You should be backing him. It won’t be easy for him.”
“And for you?” he asks, finally looking at me.
“Just another player leaving.”
“Don’t talk shit.”
I give a tight smile. “It’ll be weird not seeing his fuckface every day.”
“Yeah,” he says, softer now.
“But I’ll still have yours. I’ll make do.”
“Thanks a million.”
“That means I’ll be putting all my attention on you.”
“All of it?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Well, at least when I’m on the pitch.”
Ryan nods. “So… the Doctor, then.”
“Mess with me, and the barbell ends up your throat.”
“Am I supposed to like him?”
“I couldn’t care less what you think of the Doctor, Ryan.”
“As long as you like him, is it?”
“Something like that.”
“And you do like him.”
“Is that a question, or are you just havin’ a guess?”
“You can tell,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “By the way you look at him. Not to mention the way he looks at you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, wanting to shut him up.
“Have you not noticed at all?”
“You’re talking shit. It’s not like that between us.” I stand and shrug.
“It’s not like that for you.”
“Is this more of your conjecture now?”
“You do know the Doctor is not a player, yeah?”
I close my eyes and pull in a slow, steady breath.
“He’s not like…”
“Me,” I finish for him.
“Honestly, I don’t even know what your game is. I only know what everyone else knows.”
“And what’s that? I like a bit of fun. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not forbidden.”
“No, it’s not, as long as the other person knows the rules. But I’d say the Doctor’s never played.”
“You’re making this bigger than it is. We only hung out a few times.”
“As long as he knows,” he says.
“Are you seriously worried about the Doctor?” I turn to him, annoyed.
“‘Course I am! I don’t want him parked in my house for a fortnight, crushed out on my sofa and eating my food.”
“You’re a dick, Ryan.”
“Ah, Jamie. I can see a leap of s—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“I don’t know why, but I’ve got a feeling that two sofas will end up occupied.”
“Fuck you, your bullshit, and the fucking sofas!”
“I worry about my friends.”
“So the Doctor is your friend now, is he? A few months ago, you wanted him gone.”
“I was talking about you.”
“I don’t get you. You just said—”
“It’s not easy to believe you’re enough, is it?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Did you see me out there, Ryan?”
“Don’t play this game with me.”
“Why didn’t I just mind my own fucking business today?”
“Because you never do.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to start.”
“I think it’s also time to learn to forgive.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Trust me, I know what it’s like when you can’t forgive. It eats at you, drains you, makes it hard to even get out of bed in the morning.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Ryan.”
“Maybe. I talk crap; you can ignore me. But I still hope you forgive.”
“I don’t have to forgive anyone.”
“There is someone to forgive. The one who deserves it most.”
“Fuck you, Ryan,” I grit out, leaving him as I head for the locker room.
He has no right to talk, speculate, or try to analyse me. People have done that enough, and I won’t let anyone mess with my head anymore.
He shouldn’t talk about the Doctor or about forgiveness. Not to me.
I sit on the bench beside my bag and, without thinking, pull my phone from my pocket. I turn it over in my hands for a while, then, needing to hear his voice, I press the button and call. The answering machine picks up right away, which means his phone is off, and I nearly hurl mine at the wall.
I want to talk to him. I need it now. I need to quiet the voices in my head — Ryan’s, and everyone else’s who thinks they know. I have to shut them all out, and there’s only one way to do it.