by Eden Butler
Sayo taps my arm and I’m distracted from Declan’s new message when my best friend smiles at me. “The swarm not bothering you now?” she whispers close to me, watching to see if Mollie and Layla still focus on their phones. A small twist of my lips and Sayo waggles her eyebrows.
“You’re like an eighth grader at her first girl/boy party when it comes to men.”
“Guilty. So. You think this thing with Declan will go somewhere?’
“I don’t know. Maybe. Not really sure how I feel about that, actually.”
“This will make Saturday morning in the library a bit awkward for me. Am I going to have to separate you guys?”
“No.”
Sayo wants more details, but this isn’t the time or place. When Mollie asks her about Sam, my friends ignore me long enough for me to read Declan’s message.
Can’t meet for coffee. Will explain later.
The tone of this message is so unlike the one he sent earlier. I wonder if Tucker found out we had a date last night. I wonder if he made today’s practice intolerable and maybe Declan’s just exhausted by all his activity the past two days. An irrational fear crowds me, has me worried and I curse myself. This is exactly why I didn’t want complicated things with Declan. I wanted to be free from the worry, from the constant concern that a new relationship brings. I can feel whispers of the old Autumn returning; Tucker’s Autumn who fretted over every frown, every odd inflection. Damn it. It’s starting already and I’ve only had one date with him.
Helpless against this crippling feeling, I throw a twenty on the table and pick up my bag. “I’ve gotta go, guys. I’ll call you later.”
“You okay?” Sayo asks, but I can’t tell her. Not yet. I glance at Mollie and Layla, note their concern, but smile, faking a calm that is nowhere within my reach. I’m being paranoid, ridiculous and I don’t want them to see that from me. I’ve got to get to my apartment and sort out my head.
I’ve got to see Declan. He won’t mind me stopping by the pitch. It’s on my way home.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep my face free from worry. “I’ve just got to get back to my place and work on my thesis. I’ll text you later.”
The squad sprints around the pitch. With each touch of their hands on the ground, Mullens’ whistle blows, sending them back and forth. Faces red, chest lifting in heavy pants, I can see where Declan’s merciless training comes from. The squad splinters into sections and I don’t immediately spot Declan among all the tall bodies, the immense shoulders and thick legs.
To my left, on the bleachers, are the Cockies. Horrible name, but it’s what the squad’s groupie section is called. There are about ten or so girls scattered over the bleachers, dressed in low tops, tight skinnies and tall heels despite the day’s frigid temperatures. These are the same girls who line up for the Biddy Auction without any regard for their own dignity. They have no pride. They love rugby. I do too, but the difference is, I don’t hang around the pitch waiting for a player to toss me a smile.
Damn. That’s exactly what I’m doing right now.
Feeling stupid, I turn to walk away, eager to disappear before Declan spots me, but then I hear my name and I know it’s him. I inhale, plaster a wide, forced smile on my face and turn to greet him as he runs toward me.
“Hi,” I say, wishing my cheeks didn’t feel so warm.
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t touch me. In fact, his eyes drift around me, over my head, to the bleachers when one of the Cockies calls his name, anywhere but at me. “What are you doing here?” His tone is light, but I can feel the tension from his body, hear the edge in his voice.
“Your text made me curious and I was on my way home. I just wanted to check on you.” I step forward and he retreats. Suddenly, my paranoia doesn’t seem irrational. “What is it?”
“It’s not anything I can talk about here.” His eyes continue to avoid me. He offers a smile to one of the girls on the bleachers and I frown when I notice it’s Heather. “I’ve got practice.”
Annoyed that he can’t manage meet my eyes once, I stand in front of him, blocking Heather from his view. “Tell me. What’s going on with you?”
Declan digs the tip of his sneaker into the grass, watches the dirt underneath revealed. “Something’s come up.” When I touch his chin, pull his face up, he jerks back. “I was going to talk to you about this later, but, well—” My heart begins a steady hammer against my ribs. “I can’t…I just don’t think it would be good for you and me to—we shouldn’t see each other right now.”
“Excuse me?” I say, my voice shouting over Mullens’ constant whistle. I know I’m causing a scene, drawing the attention of everyone around us, but I don’t care. “What changed in the past two hours, Declan? It had to be something significant if you wanted my biscuits this morning.”
A small flicker of a smirk moves his lips but it vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared. “I just don’t want you to think that there’s anything between us.” Declan takes a breath and finally faces me. I can’t see anything in his eyes. There isn’t anger, there isn’t anything remotely expressive that clues me into what’s going on in his mind. I ignore the wild ache that has surfaced in my chest, too angry, too confused to feel hurt. “I’m not really keen to be tied down and I don’t think it would be wise to act as though I am.”
I don’t buy it. There are only a brief few seconds that he can manage to hold my gaze. He rubs his shoulder, stares at his feet and I know he’s lying. My gut twists with the knowledge and I sense his hesitation when I step toward him. “Bullshit.”
Declan’s gaze jerks to me and I count the seconds as we glare at each other. He stares at my face, impassive, but it is forced and he holds an angry scowl. His face pales when my anger has my eyes watering and then his expression relaxes and I think he might say something, that there is something toying on the tip of his tongue that he wants to tell me. The next moment, though, his anger returns.
“It’s not going to work. Look, Autumn, we can still be mates. I’ll still train you lot, but as far and you and I, it’s just not going to work.”
“You don’t think you and I spark anymore? Since when?”
Declan opens his mouth to speak, clears his throat, but whatever he may want to say dies when Tucker approaches. They exchange a long, weighted glare and I break between them, taking in the awkward tension, the snap of anger that cuts through the air. I’ve never seen Declan stare at anyone this way. I’ve never seen his shoulders get quite so stiff or his fists curl this tightly.
“Shouldn’t you be sprinting, Fraser?” Tucker says, standing too close to me. When his fingers slide against my hand and I don’t immediately pull away from his touch —too shocked by Declan’s behavior— Declan’s eyes lower, his sneer expands and I think another fight flits in his next movement.
“Yes, captain,” Declan says, stepping away from us.
What was that? There is no way Declan would normally walk away with his tail between his legs, especially not from Tucker. I see the gloating grin on my ex’s lips and instantly realize that he has managed to finally keep Declan from me. It could be anything, really. If there are skeletons in Declan’s past, Tucker is the sort to kick them to the present, parade them around so that the Irishman cowers in their presence.
I have to know what it is. I have to discover what Tucker is dangling over Declan’s head. It will take calculation, but if I want to see that defeated cast erased from Declan’s face, there will be sacrifices to make.
When my eyes burn, I turn my face, not willing to let Tucker see my upset. He knows me, though, knows my mannerisms almost as well as Sayo and so I am unsurprised when his knuckle pulls on my chin. Annoyed, I move my face out of his reach.
“Hey.” He wipes the moisture from my eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” I try to be flippant, motion as if nothing Declan says would affect me in the least. “I’m good. I was…just…” Declan walks toward the bleachers, approaches Heather, but he can’t seem to k
eep his glare off of Tucker standing next to me. My fingernails bite into my palm when I make a fist, watching Declan whisper something in Heather’s ear that has her giggling like an idiot. “I was just headed to my apartment and saw you out here,” I say.
He doesn’t believe me, joins my heavy stare at Declan flirting with that scrawny trollop. When the blonde picks a few strands of grass from his shirt, I close my eyes, returning my attention to Tucker.
“Did he say something rude to you?” Tucker asks.
My laugh is harsh, forced. “Of course he did. Isn’t that what he’s best at?”
“He’s walking a thin line and really pissing me off.” Tucker reaches for my fingers and I jerk when he holds them. Part of me worries that Declan will see our interaction. The other, less timid part, is pissed off enough not to care if he does. “Want me to kick his ass?” I manage to smile, thinking that I’d like to throttle him myself and Tucker seems to take this as encouragement. “That’s the least I’d do for you, sweetness.” His grip on my hand tightens and he pulls me closer to him. “You know that.”
I try not to flinch when he kisses my forehead. “I’ll let you get back to practice,” I say. “I’ve got work to do at home.”
I rush away from him, but pause when Tucker calls my name. “Wait up.” My arms curl around my middle and I step back, waiting for Tucker’s approach. “Listen, I know you’ve told me no a thousand times, but I want to take you out. Just to talk. I promise.” Head down, I watch Tucker, the way his face is unguarded, to his smile and the slow tilt of his head. I used to love that. He knows that. I don’t respond straightaway, thinking about my earlier assertion that Tucker is somehow blackmailing Declan to keep him away from me.
When I glance behind him, I notice Declan watching us, resting against the bleacher railing as Heather prattles on about something. His eyes are dark, heated and I return the expression, still angry, still shocked by his irrational reversal of feelings.
If he could read my mind, I wonder what he’d think. Just glaring at him, I try to convey everything in my expression. Run if you must, I think. Run like a coward, but I will find you out.
“Yeah, Tucker. You can take me out.”
FIFTEEN
I leave my friends behind. They call after me, my name coming from their lips between pants of hot breath and whines of concern. I push them away, place myself in the moment, with the cold wind whipping against my face and the mountain around me, cradling me in its woodsy grip.
Training will help. Moving my body, embracing the ache, the searing throttle of tight muscle, of burning lungs will exorcise the anger, relieve the blister of hurt. Here, up on this mountainside, I am free. There is no drug better than the endorphin rush pounding in my brain, vanquishing my thoughts, clearing my mind. The brittle leaf I was is now vibrant green; a waxy texture that stands in the storm screaming, slapping back, shouting “come at me, you bastard.”
Two days, and the surprise has not dulled. Declan’s rejection, his angry sneer is imprinted on my brain. I have replayed his words over and over. I trace back through my memory and recall his expressions, the slightest hint of regret, of concern. I can find none. But in that moment when Tucker’s fingers brushed against mine, when he stood too close, an intentional exploit meant to provoke Declan’s anger, I saw a glint of something, a beating pulse that expressed Declan’s envy. Recollection shows me that wild flicker that crossed those green eyes, screaming to me “you are mine.”
But to hell with Declan if he thinks there will be pining. I am not a simpering girl. Tucker’s Autumn is dead and with each step I took away from the pitch that day, I stomped her deeper and deeper beneath the earth. A moment of weakness. I had been paranoid, and quickly learned that feeling wasn’t misplaced. Now I choose to embrace my instinct. I am empowered by that innate voice that tells me to fight instead of take flight, to win, to erase Declan’s laughable excuses from my thoughts. And while the theory is easier than the practice, I am managing. The blame for this situation is at Tucker’s feet. I know this. I understand this and have every intention of unraveling the puzzle my ex has so cleverly crafted.
He knows Declan’s secret, but I know Tucker’s.
The falls spray water against my feet and though the air temperature is chilly, hovering somewhere around fifty, I like the feel of the frosty waters dotting against my ankles. My feet swing over the cliff and I slant back, enjoying the hot beat of the sun on my face, the quiet symphony of the falls cracking against the boulders below.
For a moment I catch the serenity I am always seeking; the sweet bliss from the trees around me, swaying, moving and the high pitched call of birds swooping among the branches. I am calmer now than I have been in two days and do not release my tranquility as I hear the heavy grunts and running steps of my friends coming up the trail.
Layla falls next to me, her chest heaving. “I hate running. I hate it so much.”
“You’re getting better at it,” I say, looking down at her to brush the sweaty hair off her face. She smiles, then gives me a thumbs up.
Sayo enters next, winded as well, and is followed by Mollie who instantly lands on Layla’s lap. “Dying. Freakin’ dying.”
Sayo struggles less and I exchange a smile with her as our friends utter complaints of exhaustion. My best friend sits next to me. “How’s your leg?”
I have to think about her question, surprising myself when I notice that it hasn’t cramped once on way up the mountain. Smiling, I sit up a bit straighter. “It’s good. No pain at all.”
“Excellent.”
“You know,” Layla starts, her arm covering her eyes as she lays in the sun, “I thought this would be easier without General Guinness barking orders at us.” She lowers her arm, glancing at me as though she expects my anger to surface. “I think you’re worse than him, Autumn.”
There is movement on the other side of the falls and my head snaps toward it. I only relax when two small rabbits hop beneath the Oaks. “We have to be ready. Only a month to go.”
Declan’s text came late Wednesday night, surprising me. It was a simple question, When would you lot like to train on Friday? I stared at my phone for a solid hour before I called Sayo and asked her to tell him his services were no longer needed. I don’t know how long they spoke or what they discussed, I didn’t want to know. Sayo tried delving details about what Declan said to me on the pitch, but I couldn’t find the words, wouldn’t let myself talk about it for fear that my newly repaired wall would begin to crumble again.
“I don’t know if I can make it, Autumn, seriously. I’m not cut out for cardiovascular crap.” Layla’s breath steadies but she hasn’t moved from her spot on the ground.
“If you’d stop eating donuts with that cop on campus every morning, maybe you’d improve,” Mollie says, ratting out her best friend.
They begin to bicker and I resign myself to the realization that my fought-for calm has left me. I stand, begin to walk away from them before Sayo calls me back.
“They’re just bitchy after the run. They’re always like this. Why don’t you give them a few minutes and we’ll go back down together?”
“I have stuff to do.”
Sayo nods, but her eyes are narrowed and I don’t know if it’s concern or curiosity that has her staring me down. “What stuff? It’s Friday night. Why don’t we catch a movie?”
Behind her, Layla and Mollie’s argument intensifies. Sayo turns as the two girls’ shouts grow so loud that several birds fly out of the tree limbs, scatter leaves onto the ground.
“Such a nosey bitch, Mollie, why don’t you mind your own damn business?” Layla marches past us with Mollie following. Neither one of them pay us any mind.
“A fucking cop, Layla? Seriously? With my family history? You should know better.”
As our friends disappear down the trail, I relax my shoulders and Sayo notices the gesture. “They love drama.” We hear another colorful expletive from Layla and both Sayo and I laugh. “How did we end up b
eing friends with them?”
“Mollie had the best fake I.D. Layla had free tickets to the matches, remember?”
Sayo and I don’t run back down the trail. The day is light, beautiful with leaves falling all around us, small creatures skittering across the trail around each bend.
“So what are you doing tonight? I really wanted popcorn and Goobers.”
I don’t want to tell her. Even if my plans with Tucker serve only for me to dig into what he knows about Declan, she’ll still find my being around him unsettling. But Sayo is nosey, inquisitive, and if I don’t tell her, she’ll make a surprise visit just before I leave tonight. That wouldn’t be good, especially if she sees Tucker picking me up.
I stop walking in the middle of the trail, my feet pass over a heavy root that fractures up from the ground. “Tucker is taking me out.”
My best friend’s eyes are perfectly still, cool even, as though she hadn’t heard me. Either that or she believes she misinterprets what I say. “Do what now?”
“Don’t get pissy, it isn’t what you think.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking? But, excuse me? Are you crazy?” Sayo is short and petite, but when she’s angered, when she’s utterly miffed she can be a scary, imposing figure. My eyes drop to her hands, to the tight curl of her fists and I know I have to soothe her temper before it gets out of hand.
“You’re thinking that since Declan dumped me, I’m going to go running back to Tucker because I’m just that pathetic.”
“That is certainly not what I’m thinking, Autumn.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if the thought had crossed her mind. Since Tucker left me a year ago, Sayo has monitored my actions, the things I do because she thinks I am incapable of making a good decision. Having a relationship with Tucker was proof enough of that for her.
“I think Tucker is blackmailing Declan to keep him away from me.”