Always You

by Tiara Inserto

  “It was all right. My boarding school was great. That’s where I got serious about rugby. Had a good coach there who made me feel like I could really give it a go.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “England? Nah. Mum hated it. We were all glad when we moved back. This is home. Always will be.”

  “Is that why you didn’t take up the offer to play in England? Must be nice to be able to turn down all that money.”

  Blake moved from the counter and sat at the small table in the breakfast nook. He looked out of place at the tiny dinette set, covered with a yellow tablecloth with lacey edges. He gingerly sipped at his mug, his shirt tightening at his controlled movements.

  He was fit. All muscles. Solid all over, especially his thighs...

  Neela pulled her eyes back from the shorts that clung tightly to Blake’s body.

  “Er, how many spoons of Milo do you usually put in your milk?” He was staring pointedly at her mug.

  She looked down. Peaks of the malted-chocolate powder were threatening to spill over. She didn’t turn around to look at Blake. Was the room getting warm?

  “I like a lot of Milo. Don’t change the subject. England?”

  “The money was very tempting,” he said. “I could have set myself up really well if I’d spent a few years in England. It was also a good club with a real chance of winning a few trophies. But it didn’t feel right, you know. I like it here. I make good enough money. My family’s here. I have my mates. What more do you need?”

  “I would have gone in a heartbeat, but even getting to your pay scale at home would be a dream.”

  “It’ll happen. The men’s game didn’t reach this level for a long time. Women’s professional rugby is still new when you think about it.”

  Neela turned to lean back against the counter as she brought the Milo to her lips. She considered the history of their sport, one so deeply associated with their country. He had a point: the opportunity to become a professional rugby player had only started in the mid-nineties. Even now, the pioneers of their sport—the men who had brought the sporting world’s attention to their country—continue to move in different directions after their playing days were over. Few were able to live off their successes from their time in rugby.

  “So, what should we do now, Mr. Babysitter?”

  “I see you have a couple of video games there.”

  “You’re on.”

  * * *

  Blake turned over and found himself face-down on the carpet.

  He groaned, sat up carefully and rubbed his face. Then he moaned again. This time, his hand went to his forehead.

  He’d known he was going to pay for drinking all that beer. Being a teetotaler most of the year had turned him into a lightweight when it came to alcohol, but he couldn’t think of a better excuse to stay.

  Fortunately, Corrine hadn’t even hesitated to offer the sofa when he mentioned how much he had drunk. He also hadn’t missed the look of suspicion in Neela’s eyes. She’d known what he was trying to do. At least he’d be able to face Mano knowing he had tried his best. But, damnit, he’d forgotten about the headache that always came after a night of too much drinking.

  Thank goodness the sofa wasn’t particularly high, but Neela was right. It was too small for him. A faceplant on top of a bruised jaw was going to be hard to explain to Lindsay. Still, he had slept on worse. He’d recover.

  He glanced at his watch. Almost six o’clock. He looked at the still-closed door of Neela’s bedroom.

  They had spent all of yesterday inside.

  They had played video games, and she’d schooled in him Super Mario and Halo. He’d taken his revenge in Scrabble and would have claimed outright victory if she hadn’t ‘accidentally’ tipped the board. He’d met Corrine, and the three of them had had a pleasant dinner of pasta, salad and more of his choc chip cookies. It was the most adult evening he had experienced in a long time.

  After Corrine had turned in, he and Neela had stayed at the table and talked late into the night.

  They led parallel lives, sharing the same profession, common acquaintances, and a part of their childhood. Yet Blake realized that until yesterday, he had barely known Neela Smyth beyond who she was on the rugby pitch. He hadn’t realized they both had grown up idolizing the same sports heroes. They both despised politics but were up to date with world events. She ran religiously. She didn’t know a thing about opera but would watch any movie musical.

  Scary Neela Smyth, the most intimidating person from his childhood, was actually someone he had a lot in common with as an adult.

  “Hey, are we running or not? Hurry up. I’ve to get to the gym by eight. Meeting a new trainer. Fell off, didn’t you? Told you it was too small.” She had suddenly appeared in the living room, already dressed in her running clothes.

  Blake winced as he got up from the floor. He reached for the nylon bag he had dropped at the foot of the sofa last night, unzipped it and stared at his running gear. Maybe he should skip the morning run.

  “You sure you’re up for this? I can go alone.”

  And there it was: the unmistakable challenge in Neela Smyth’s tone. It had haunted him as an adolescent when he wasn’t clear whether he wanted to meet the challenge for her or himself. It shouldn’t have bothered him as an adult. He knew he had nothing to prove to anyone anymore.

  Damn headache...

  “I’m fine,” he mumbled as he walked to the bathroom door. “Just give me ten minutes.”

  They were on the road fifteen minutes later.

  Neela led, keeping a brisk pace. She didn’t even glance at him once, so lost in her own world. Headphones relegated him to the role of an anonymous running partner.

  It must have been a route Neela used often. As they ran, there were occasional waves from storekeepers opening up their shops, and she even stopped briefly to say ‘hi’ to an elderly couple sitting on a bench outside the bakery. When they hit a local park, she increased the pace, and Blake concentrated on keeping his breathing and strides even.

  A cross-back fitted tee showed off her toned body, but it was the combination of grace and strength in Neela’s movements that Blake appreciated more. He made a mental note to pay more attention to how she moved at her next match. He had no doubt that she’d bring the same kind of speed to her game.

  About half an hour into their run, they reached an intersection that temporarily stopped them. While they were waiting for the light to change, they jogged in place. Still no word exchanged between them. Blake’s gaze lingered on the dark area above Neela’s wrist. He ground his teeth. It wasn’t his business. No, that was a lie.

  It was now.

  Suddenly, Neela stopped. Her eyes were focused across the street. Blake saw the sudden change in her body; she was now tensed and alert. He turned his head and tried to see what she was seeing. The morning rush was just beginning. People moved quickly and automatically.

  “Neela?”

  She looked at Blake with eyes that were wild and afraid as if she had forgotten he was there.

  “What’s going on?” Blake asked.

  The light changed. “Let’s go,” she said. “Let’s just go.”

  She was running faster, her strides uneven. Keeping up with her wasn’t a problem, but the casualness of their morning run had become urgent. She wanted to get back home quickly.

  When they reached her building, she went straight to her room in silence.

  Blake shook his head and reached for the towel she had given him last night. Something—or someone— had spooked her. Could Kyle have followed them? He walked towards the bathroom but stopped in front of Neela’s door. Leaning in, he strained to hear something, anything. But he heard nothing.

  “Neela? All right?”

  No answer.

  “Neela? I’m going to take a shower now, okay? Neela?”

  Silence.

  When he came out of the shower, he saw Corrine in the kitchen.

  “Good morning! How did you do o
n the sofa?” she asked, offering him a mug.

  Blake took it and caught the aroma of freshly ground coffee. “Good enough. Has Neela left?”

  “Yes. She always leaves early. On Mondays, she works out with a trainer. I’ve never met a more disciplined person. She left you a note,” Corrine said, pushing a folded paper towards Blake.

  Thanks. Neela

  That’s it?

  Blake refolded the note and drank his coffee. He had technically fulfilled his promise to Mano, but he couldn’t forget the look she’d had during their run. She was still scared, and his instincts said all that fear was because of Kyle.

  He reached for his phone, then cursed silently. He didn’t even have her phone number.

  There were only a handful of gyms in the area that could cater to the needs of an athlete of Neela’s experience and skill level. He could ask Corrine... No, what was he thinking? Her leaving before he came out of the shower was a clear message.

  She didn’t want his company.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Christchurch, New Zealand, October 2016

  The soft but persistent ring of the alarm woke Blake from a pleasant dream that involved sun, sand, and coconuts. Not a rugby ball in sight. The temptation for another couple of hours of sleep was there, but it was time to get back into a regular training schedule. After a long nine weeks away from the game, he finally received the green light from team doctors.

  He stretched his arms over his head and followed the circular rhythm of the ceiling fan. He listened for a sound from next door.

  Nothing.

  Tim must have left already. Was it fish or frogs that his scientist flatmate needed to count today? But if he knew Tim, even with more important things on his genius mind, there’ll be a jug of green protein shake in the fridge.

  He glanced at the clock again. Would he see Neela this morning? It’d been six months since he’d first spotted her in a corner of Hagley Park. She and someone he assumed was a teammate had been practicing a series of sprints and bounding exercises. A week later, he took a gamble that, like him, she followed a disciplined training schedule and convinced himself that a good brisk morning walk was a perfect way to begin the day. She was alone that time but still practicing. He recognized the precision of movements that were meant to be automatic when it mattered. She was working. Hard. It wasn’t the right time to say “hi.”

  Just as he was about to walk away, she looked in his direction. Their eyes met, and even though they were a good fifty meters apart, he could see both her surprise and indecision. But whatever misgivings she harbored, she ignored them, raising her hand to acknowledge his presence with a wave.

  He waved back.

  Then she turned around and walked away. And that was that.

  She wasn’t there the following week.

  When he tried to bring up the idea to Mano about inviting her over— “Since she’s family?”— Mano just glared. Unspoken message received.

  Before he could think of another way to re-establish contact with Neela, he became injured, and life as he knew it was on hold.

  A second glance at his clock caused him to frown. His phone should have gone off precisely ten minutes after the alarm. He reached for it on his side table: no charge. He sighed.

  Well, he was up, and whatever messages that had come in overnight would just have to wait until he came back from his run.

  Blake hit the pavement twenty minutes after he woke up. It was to be a slow, controlled jog to build up the endurance he had lost in the previous weeks. It was far from his favorite thing to do, but he nevertheless enjoyed the sensation of an ankle he could once again put some weight on. He couldn’t remember having been away from rugby this long before. But if missing the last couple of months of the club season had been rough, the reason for his injury made it worse.

  One day he wouldn’t be embarrassed by how it had happened. The video of him tripping over the same ball he had scored a try with just a minute earlier was worth a chuckle, but when people would rather remember that instead of the good things he had accomplished on the pitch... Well, it was starting to feel tiresome.

  “You’re earlier than usual.”

  Her voice was so unexpected, Blake stopped immediately and stared.

  Neela returned the stare with a frown on her face. “What?”

  “We’re talking to each other now, are we?”

  She shrugged and re-started her run.

  “Are we?” he repeated when he caught up with her. “Because you barely said anything the last time we met. It’s like our day together in Auckland didn’t happen.”

  This time, she was the one to stop. Hands on her hips, she looked away before facing him again. “It did happen.”

  “So why did we—Tim and I— have to learn that you’ve moved back to the South Island from the papers?”

  “I was busy. You of all people should know what it’s like. I was training for the Games and then dealing with everything that came with it afterward.”

  “I do know what it’s like, and that’s not a good enough reason. Try again.”

  She blinked at his words as if unused to being pushed. She folded her arms and shuffled her feet. “I was busy.”

  “It’s a small city. Smaller still, since we’re both ruggers.” He began his run but stopped when she called.

  “Blake! Look, it’s not easy for me to say ‘thank you.’ I wasn’t expecting to see you in the park last time. I’m still embarrassed about what happened last year.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “But I am.” Her voice was so soft that he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

  “Why haven’t you come by? Tim really wants to see that medal of yours.” This time, he was confident of the flash of regret in her eyes, and something inside him softened.

  “I’ll bring it around one day.” She sighed. “I’m not good with people from my past, okay?”

  “We’re friends. We were friends when we were ten, and we can be friends now.”

  “O-kay,” she said cautiously. “Do you really want to be friends?”

  “Maybe. If you had a Choc Cherry on you, would you share?”

  “No.”

  Blake grinned. “You’re honest. That’s all I ask from my friends.”

  The sides of her lips almost formed a smile. Almost. “Want company this morning?” she asked. “I usually run alone. I don’t want to interrupt your training.”

  “No, run with me,” he said impulsively. “I’ve had enough time alone. But it’s my first time out on hard ground.”

  She nodded and kept to the pace he was setting. “Why are you up so early?”

  He smiled. He could hear the strain in her voice in her effort to be friendly. “Same as you. Staying in shape. Does your coach know you put in some extra work on those legs?”

  She glanced at him suspiciously. “Running clears my mind. I’m not overdoing it.”

  He laughed, earning himself another unfriendly look.

  They ran in silence, following a circular route around Hagley Park. They were far from alone. A cool, crisp morning attracted many early-risers. As he neared one of the entrances to the park, Blake slowed his pace. She matched it before they both completely stopped.

  “Good news about Margot,” Blake said as he began to stretch.

  Neela nodded. “Yeah. A year in remission.”

  “Let’s hope for two. Mano’s so chuffed, he actually smiled,” Blake said. “How’s your sister?”

  “Rieann? She’s six months in remission. How did you know?”

  “Mano.”

  “Thanks for asking.”

  “Saw the list in the papers yesterday. Congratulations on making the squad for Dubai. Are you training here or in Wellington?”

  “Wellington, but I’ll be staying down here until a couple of weeks before we leave. We don’t have the budget for longer training sessions.”

  There was no resentment in her statement of fact. Nor d
id he want to sour the longest conversation he’d had with Neela in over a year with a discussion on sports funding. Tim’s sister had given him an earful about the disparity in pay and support the last time she visited her brother.

  He stood up. “It’s most of your team from Rio. You’ll all be in good form.”

  Neela took off her baseball cap and shook her shoulder-length black hair loose, framing a face that was still flushed from the run. Blake blinked at the transformation. She didn’t smile in a lot of her marketing pictures. Now that she was, she actually looked pretty.

  “That we will be,” she said. “I haven’t heard back from Mano, which is unusual, but will you let him know I’ll phone if I need a lift to Rieann’s next weekend? Otherwise, I’ll just see him there.”

  “Okay.”

  Neela started to walk in the opposite direction from where he was headed.

  He called out. “Hey! Thanks for the company. Another time, maybe?”

  She paused before answering. “Maybe.”

  He grinned. Honest to a fault...

  “By the way,” she continued. “That latest video on YouTube? Best one of you yet.”

  An uneasy feeling slowly began to grow in his gut as he watched Neela walk away. He had expected she would have seen the video of him tripping on the ball by now, but the knowing grin that had come with her last statement planted a seed of suspicion that she was talking about something else.

  When he reached the townhouse, he found a dozen missed calls on his now fully charged phone, half of them from his mum. The other half was from his agent. Neither was a good sign so early in the morning.

  Blake went straight to his laptop. As he typed his name into the search engine, the heavy feeling in his gut grew wider and deeper.

  And there it was. A new video of him uploaded to all the major social media platforms.

  Trending.

  It was clearly him: in the hot tub in Los Angeles with his ex-girlfriend, a month after the Finals at Twickenham. The amount of water splashing suggested that only one thing could be happening between him and Lindsay.

  He glanced at the corner of the screen, then groaned. Half a million hits already. Oh, shit.