Redemption

by Jessica Ashe

  He made a complete hash of the kick and the ball landed in the arms of a South African player who kicked the ball out of touch to win the game.

  Oliver’s teammates all rallied to support him, and so did most of the press and public. After all, he had many more World Cups ahead of him and England would have never gotten to the final at all if it weren’t for him.

  He came back from Paris the next day in a furious temper, and it never went away. He spent the last week of my trip either ignoring me or telling me that my presence at his house had been a distraction and that was why he’d missed the kick.

  By the time I made it back home, I had convinced myself that I hated him. I tried to make Maisie hate him too, but after some counseling for the attack and her scars, she decided that she wanted to be just like Oliver and play rugby. She hero worshiped him and there was nothing I could do or say to make her see otherwise.

  As all sisters do, we argued occasionally, but she never once blamed me for what happened to her. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if she had. Maisie had enough strength and bravery for the two of us, and when I’d seen her with Oliver over dinner I realized where she’d gotten that from. Certainly not from me.

  I still didn’t know whether I should—or could—forgive him for the way he acted, but he seemed determined to seek forgiveness and who was I to stand in his way. Let him try and make it up to me. What was the worst that could happen?

  I much preferred coaching the girls’ teams. Whenever I tried to coach the boys’ teams, there would always be a few cocky sods who would insist that I couldn’t teach them anything because of that one ‘mistake’ I made in the World Cup Final back in 2007. If they knew the full story, they wouldn’t be quite so quick to judge my ability on the pitch.

  England Rugby had taken over a huge training centre with eight different rugby pitches and some football pitches that we took over for training drills. There was more than enough room for the different age groups of both the boys and the girls.

  Fortunately, I didn’t have to deal with the boys’ teams all that much, because my role was to help promote the game among girls. It would be better if there were some prominent female role models to do the job, but there weren’t any famous female rugby players; hence we put this training camp together.

  I’d managed to convince England Rugby that the experience would be better for everyone if some of the girls were from countries outside of England because “the girls will learn from each other.” That was just a ruse to bring Maisie here, of course, but it had worked.

  I’d kept an eye on the car park from the second the first player arrived, and had seen Michelle park her rental car and walk over to the field for the under-fifteen girls team. The temptation to go over there immediately and spend the day with Michelle was almost too strong, but I resisted and started with the under-eighteen’s team.

  My appearance was immediately greeted by a series of wolf whistles as the players stopped talking and all turned to face me. I introduced myself, although they clearly knew who I was.

  “I need to practice my tackling, sir,” Jackie said. I recognized her from the training videos I’d watched a few months ago. This girl was as good as they came and could give some men a run for their money.

  “I’m not actually leading the session,” I explained. “I’m just here to oversee everything. But I’ll make sure your coach gives you tackling practice.”

  “Actually, sir, I really think I should practice on you. I reckon I could bring you down on top of me.”

  The girls all laughed and I caught more than one of them mentally undressing me. “I think you should stick to tackling those of your own age,” I replied.

  “I’ve tackled men of your age before, sir,” Jackie said, biting her lip and doing her best to look seductive. “Although never one as big as you.” The girls all burst into laughter and I considered whether coaching the boys might be easier after all.

  “Alright, ladies, enough of that, or I’m going to get in trouble. I’ll make sure to pop by a few times a day to see how you’re all getting on.”

  “Pop by any time, sir,” Jackie yelled out as I walked away.

  I walked over to Michelle where she stood by the touchline watching the under-fifteens warm up. They already looked far more disciplined than the older age group, but that was likely down to the coach.

  I’d assigned them to be under the watchful eye of Terry who had been the one to whip me into shape when I was about Maisie’s age. At fifteen, rugby had ended up dropping down to second in my list of priorities, and Terry helped me remember that rugby might provide more long-lasting pleasure than just trying to get my end away at parties.

  “Sounds like you have quite the fan club over there,” Michelle remarked. “I’m surprised you managed to tear yourself away.”

  “You don’t need to be jealous. They’re far too young for me. I prefer my women to about… How old are you now?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “About twenty-four.”

  Although the weather was supposed to hit the mid-twenties today, the mornings still tended to be cold, so Michelle had put on jeans and another cardigan on top. At some point, I’d have to find an excuse for her to wear a skirt again. She always used to show off her legs, so it should only be a matter of time. For now, I would just have to use my imagination. Besides, seeing her in the flesh was more than enough for the time being.

  It was still hard to believe she was standing here in front of me. Apart from the odd photo, I hadn’t seen anything of her in eight years. She’d changed a lot in that time. She stood with more confidence. The sixteen-year-old Michelle I’d met had hanged off my every word, and couldn’t maintain eye contact with me. This Michelle stood up straight and had an air of confidence about her. She also projected a “don’t fuck with me” vibe, but then I always enjoyed a challenge.

  “I’m not jealous of those girls,” Michelle said. “I just feel bad for them. They should set their sights higher.”

  “Some people consider me quite the catch, you know. You used to, not that long ago.”

  “Eight years is a long time,” she said.

  “So you did think I was a catch back then?”

  There were a few seconds of silence before she spoke. “Is that what this whole thing is about?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This training camp. Is it just some pathetic attempt to get back in my good books after all these years?”

  “You have quite the ego on you, don’t you? Do you really think I’d arrange all this just to spend time with you?” I would have done all that and more to spend a minute with her, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Well, no, but what about Maisie being here? Is she just here because of me?”

  “No, she’s here because she’s one of the best young rugby players I know of. I sent a scout to watch her, and he had nothing but good things to say. Sure, I wouldn’t have known about her if it weren’t for your dad being married to my mum, but that doesn’t change anything.”

  “Good,” she said. “So you’re not going to spend the entire summer trying to get into my pants?”

  “I’m not promising anything of the sort,” I replied with a grin. Her mouth twitched slightly, but she didn’t look entirely displeased at the revelation. I hadn’t intended to chase after Michelle, but the second I laid eyes on her again, I knew it was inevitable. I only had a few months to get her, so I wasn’t about to waste time I didn’t have.

  “You might be used to having your way with any woman you set your sights on, but I’m not available.”

  “Yes, you are,” I replied. “Maisie told me you were single at the moment.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m available to you. We are related, or had you forgotten?”

  “You never used to look at me like a brother, so I don’t see why I should look at you like a sister.”

  I’d immediately accepted Maisie as a sister, but never Michelle. From t
he moment we were introduced, I saw her as someone I wanted to devour. I’d never been so captivated by one woman before, but her messy brown hair and nervous glances had driven me crazy.

  That messy brown hair had been replaced by wavy hair that cried out for me to weave my fingers through it as I kissed her. The nervous glances were now angry stares. Both were equally sexy.

  “Just how much has Maisie been telling you about me?” Michelle asked.

  Too much; more than I wanted to know. “She tells me when you have a new boyfriend on the go, and likes to gossip about when you don’t come home.”

  “Oh.”

  “No need to be embarrassed,” I said. “We’re both adults. I do the same.” I’d eventually told Maisie it wasn’t polite to talk about her sister like that just so she would stop telling me all the details I didn’t want to hear.

  “Unlike you, I don’t take pride in screwing anything that walks,” Michelle said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex,” I said. “I happen to be rather good at it, so if that hotel room ever feels a little lonely—”

  “I’ll pop down to the bar and finish the conversation I started with the good-looking barman last night.”

  I’d known Michelle would be mad at me for the way I’d acted before, but I hadn’t expected the anger to burn quite so intensely. Obtaining her forgiveness wasn’t going to be easy.

  “About what I did back in—” I began, as Maisie ran up to us with perfect timing.

  “Coach says you need to come over and introduce yourself to the girls,” Maisie said, slightly out of breath from the warm up. “I warn you, they’re all going to perv over you a bit.”

  “Of course they are,” Michelle muttered, before bending over and grabbing a bottle of water from her bag. I took the chance to admire her arse in those tight jeans. The denim clung to her body, but to me it was crying out to be peeled off. I’d never seen anyone look so damn appealing in a pair of jeans and a cardigan.

  I reluctantly looked away from Michelle and ran over to say hello and explain the basics of what they could expect over the next few weeks. The girls were all gossiping about me as I walked up, but unlike the older girls, they didn’t make any inappropriate jokes. Not in front of me, at least. I dreaded to think what Maisie would overhear in the changing rooms later.

  Terry and I put the girls through a few basic drills, and Maisie continued to excel. I looked back over my shoulder to Michelle and saw her looking in my direction, not at Maisie. That was a good start at least. I knew I’d worn these tight shorts for a reason and it wasn’t to impress the girls.

  I had my eyes set on a woman, and when I set my sight on something I didn’t give up without a fight. I made that mistake eight years ago, but I wasn’t going to make it again.

  Had he really changed that much? Or was this all just part of the act? He still spoke like a cocky asshole and didn’t sound at all apologetic for the way he treated me back in 2007. I thought for a moment that he was on the verge of apologizing when Maisie ran over and interrupted, but even if he had, it would have been eight years too late.

  I suppose the way I spoke to him was just as bad. I didn’t want to snap at him all the time, but I couldn’t help it. Everything he said made me irrationally mad, and I ended up taking my anger out on him. He’d done a nice thing for Maisie, and yet all I could do was accuse him of trying to curry my favor.

  As if he need bother. If he wanted sex, all he had to do was snap his fingers and every girl around here would come running, as would most of the moms. Christ, even some of the dads would probably look twice.

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t insisted on wearing his rugby gear for training. He had on a tight pair of shorts that did nothing to hide the bulging muscles in his legs, and the jersey fit snuggly around his pecs, leaving his biceps practically uncovered.

  I managed to avoid staring at him until he walked off to take training, but he still caught me. I didn’t look away; if he mentioned it later I planned to tell him I was looking at the view in the distance and hadn’t noticed him. He’d never believe it, but it was better to lie than look away and blush like the sixteen-year-old schoolgirl I had been when we’d first met.

  After the disaster in the World Cup Final, Oliver had made it clear he hated rugby and wanted no further part in it, but he did eventually start playing again for West London. He never went back to the national team, but I didn’t know if that was his choice or not.

  Looking at him now, it was clear that rugby was in his blood. Rugby balls were larger than footballs and harder to hold, but in Oliver’s hands it was like another limb that he had full control of. He split the girls into two teams; one for Terry to coach and one for Oliver. Terry had already spotted that Maisie was one of the stronger players, and he insisted she play on his team.

  Oliver put the girls through a few drills and even from a hundred yards away I could tell they were hanging on his every word. After an hour the two teams played a game of seven versus seven.

  Terry had clearly instructed his team to pass to Maisie whenever she was open, but Oliver had predicted that and made stopping her his goal. It worked. Maisie received the ball often enough, but never had anywhere to run. She was at her strongest when she’d had a few yards to gain speed, but with no room to move she ended up getting tackled for little gain.

  I didn’t like watching Maisie get tackled, but it would do her good to be taken down a peg or two. I loved her confidence, but rugby was a team sport, and individuals with big heads were often ostracized. It was a miracle Oliver was still playing, come to think of it.

  Maisie looked frustrated by the end of the game, but Oliver went straight over to her and took her to one side. I walked over, close enough to overhear, but not close enough to interrupt them, and heard him explain how he stopped her and what she needs to do to improve. Maisie soon smiled and looked raring to go, desperate for another crack at the opposition forwards that had stopped her last time.

  I kept watching Oliver as he went to the girls one-by-one and gave them tips on what they could do to improve. He looked like a natural coach with them. How was this the same person who was photographed with scantily-clad women almost as much as he was with a rugby ball?

  Maybe I just focused more on the photos of him with other women. They certainly stood out in my mind, even now. Oliver Cornish was supposed to be a player. A young superstar who had burst onto the scene and disappeared just as quickly before making a big comeback.

  Now he spent his spare time teaching young girls how to play rugby for nothing more than the thrill of seeing people play the game.

  After talking to all the girls, Oliver told them he was moving on to another age group, but that he would be back tomorrow. A chorus of groans went up as he walked away. He never waved goodbye to me or even looked in my direction.

  So far he’d spent more time with Maisie than with me, but I could hardly blame him. I hadn’t said a nice word to him this entire time, and he didn’t deserve that. Eight years was a long time. Maisie hadn’t spent the last eight years blaming me for what happened to her; I’d blamed myself more than enough to make up for that.

  Maybe I should move on, forgive and forget the mistakes he’d made, and see if we could be friends. Was it possible to be friends with someone like Oliver? Maisie was certainly friends with him, but she didn’t look at him the way I did. Thank God. She was far too young to look at Oliver the way I did.

  I, on the other hand, was old enough and sensible enough to know better. That way led to trouble, but I didn’t seem to want to turn back. This time I wanted to walk head-on into danger, and damn the consequences.

  I’d changed in eight years, and I hoped to God Oliver had as well.

  By around two o’clock, I’d introduced myself to all the girls’ age groups and taken a few light training sessions with each of them. I had the rest of the afternoon free, but I couldn’t leave. If I went home, I wouldn’t be able to think of anything othe
r than Michelle, so I might as well stay here where I could at least look at her.

  I didn’t want to show any signs of favouritism, so instead of hanging out with Terry and coaching Maisie’s team, I headed over to the under-fifteen boys team where Shaun was training despite having turned fifteen a few weeks ago.

  None of the boys knew Shaun’s father had been a famous player. I’d insisted on keeping that a secret because I didn’t want him to get any extra attention. He’d gotten it anyway. Shaun was a damn fine player, and the others figured that out quickly.

  As with Maisie, the second the ball was in his hands, players would start running at him, everyone wanting to be the guy who made the tackle.

  Shaun took it all in his stride, as he always did. He was quiet and unassuming—the opposite of Maisie—and didn’t let the attention go to his head. He took after his father a bit in that respect. I’d been a cocky young eighteen-year-old when I first met Shaun’s dad, but he took me under his wing and brought me down a peg or two in the process.

  Shaun had a wealth of talent and his coach had already suggested moving him up an age group. I advised against it. I didn’t want him advancing too quickly and losing his childhood; I knew only too well what damage that could do to a young man. Especially when word got out about who his father was, which it almost certainly would do.

  I still didn’t know how Michelle was going to react to my relationship with Shaun. Would she be impressed? It could be seen as another sign that I had grown up since I’d been an immature eighteen-year-old. I’d not taken on responsibility for Shaun to show maturity, but if Michelle chose to see it that way then I damn sure wasn’t going to complain.

  Michelle was still standing there watching Maisie train. Would she do that every day this summer? I sure as hell hoped so. Having someone like her to look at would certainly make the days go by faster.

  She never turned to look in my direction. I thought I’d caught her looking at me earlier, but maybe I’d been wrong. I wanted her to show some kind of sign that she was interested in me, but so far I’d only seen disdain.