The crowd erupted. The old men to my left jumped from their seats. The kids playing with the trucks cheered, rushing to the balcony. The noise of excitement cloistered in the air.
Down on the field, men in red and black slapped each other on the back, hugged it out. A man in a suit raced out on field and was embraced by team member after team member. Water bottles were thrown in the air. A happy energy was so thick, you could taste it.
Sawyer. You did it. You set up the play that won the match.
I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted this—playing for a game with the whole world riding on it. Winning and being a part of a group of people who cared, who had tears in their eyes when that ball sailed through those posts, instead of a group of Tuesday-night misfits who didn’t show up if they drank too much on a Sunday.
When did I start wanting that?
Was it Sawyer who brought about that change? Or had it been there all along?
‘Teamwork is a fabulous thing, isn’t it?’
I turned to see Ava standing by my side. When did she creep up? ‘Sure is.’
‘It’s nice to see Sawyer has moved on. That he’s not holding my choice against Braden and is still sharing the ball with him in the games,’ she purred, her nails tapping against the metal rail.
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Braden. He’s my boyfriend—the one who just scored,’ she said. ‘I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t get man of the match for that effort.’
‘Sawyer did set it up.’ A rush of protective energy swelled through me.
‘But Braden did the part that counts.’ Ava waved toward the crowd still cheering all around us. ‘Sawyer was just … background. Like you.’
Oh my God.
I wanted to slap the smug smile off her face.
No.
I wanted to take those stupid nails of hers and claw them across those botoxed lips.
‘What do you mean, like background?’ Go on, lady. Say it.
Ava turned and squared her shoulders to face me. ‘I know you’re only here to make me jealous. And I know he chose you because of how wrong you are for this life—how you don’t fit in. But you can tell your little boyfriend it’s not working, okay?’ She pressed one nail to my chest. It dug in, hard and pointy. ‘I chose Braden. End of story.’
My heart hammered. How wrong I was? What did that even mean?
And why had Sawyer led me into this ambush without so much as a hint of warning?
Ava stared at me, her cruel eyes glittering. I took a deep breath and smiled sweetly. I was here for Emily. Getting kicked out before I got her souvenir wouldn’t do me any good.
‘Get your hand off me. Before I have you charged for assault.’ Before I push you over this railing and send you tumbling into the crowd below.
‘Okay.’ Ava smiled sweetly and removed her digit as asked.
‘Ava!’ a voice called from below.
I turned to see the man who’d kicked the winning goal press his hand to his lips then hold it in the air toward her.
All trace of menace left her eyes. She giggled like a schoolgirl, blowing him a kiss back, holding onto the railing as she swung her weight against her hold. At least she seemed to genuinely like the guy.
‘Next time, wear a dress. You’ll embarrass Sawyer in that kind of get-up.’
I clamped my lips shut. Do not respond.
At the same time, I felt a pang in my chest, and I hated myself for it. I should have been better than that. I should have let something like that go.
But some things stuck, no matter how much you wished they didn’t.
Sometimes, I thought I’d always be that girl, waiting for the guy who chose AFL over her.
I turned to leave. Sawyer had said he’d meet me after the game, but I couldn’t stick around. Not with someone as toxic as this.
‘Bye, Zoe,’ Ava called as I walked past Martina and her group on my way out of the box. Air. I needed air.
I tapped out a text to Sawyer. I’d collect Emily’s souvenir another time. I’d completed my part of the bargain, and now he owed me.
As I waited with the crowds trying to surge their way twenty-strong through a two-person-wide gate, a desperate, angry energy burned within me.
I needed to play.
I needed to play now.
Chapter 12
Sawyer
Zoe: Great game! Sorry I can’t stick around, but something’s come up. Can you please drop Emily’s souvenir off at the clinic on Monday?
Something’s come up.
I stared at the words. What was that supposed to mean? Who had something just ‘come up’ at seven on a Sunday? On finals Sunday?
‘You alright, mate?’ Leigh clapped me on the shoulder, his bare skin slapping against my own.
‘Yeah. Just …’ It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that she was there, that she wasn’t here now. She was doing me a favour. I was doing her one in return. End of story.
‘Woman trouble?’ Leigh grabbed his kitbag and unzipped it, rifling through the contents.
‘I don’t even know anymore.’ Sure, she was a woman, but she was hardly my woman.
I turned back to my phone, typing out my reply. Just one I was doing a favour for. Just one I found myself searching for as soon as the game ended, only to see her standing at the railing looking like she belonged. Like she was supposed to be mine.
Sawyer: You sure you can’t get out of it? There’s someone here I really wanted you to meet.
Seconds later, a reply came through.
Zoe: Sorry, Sawyer. Maybe another time.
I dragged the towel from around my shoulders, tossing it in the pile in the corner before throwing on my team shirt. We had press duties to attend, followed by our team dinner, but I’d managed to negotiate a half-hour break with Coach, provided I didn’t ‘royally screw up’ today.
I hadn’t.
I did well.
I set up that winning goal.
And I hated that Braden had been the one to kick it through the posts.
‘Mr Benson?’
I turned to one of the assistants who’d crept up from nowhere. ‘Yeah?’
‘There’s a Gail Foster here for you,’ he squeaked.
‘No problem.’ I slung my own bag over my shoulder, headed for the hall.
‘Great game!’ the kid called from behind, and I waved my thanks.
The corridor stretched long and wide before me. A woman stood to the right of the change room door, her jeans and T-shirt deceptively casual for the power I knew she wielded.
‘Sawyer Benson. It’s lovely to meet you.’ She extended her hand, and when I gave her mine, she shook with the sort of power that you knew meant business. ‘Great game.’
‘Thanks.’
‘So where are we meeting your friend?’
‘She’s … something’s come up.’ I winced as I said the words. They sounded even more like an excuse coming from my lips. ‘But she’s really sorry she can’t be here.’
‘Hmm.’ Gail’s lips pressed together. ‘Something came up on finals night?’
‘Last minute. But she’ll be at the trials in two weeks. I promise.’ She had to be there. It was why she’d agreed to do this whole thing.
‘Okay.’ Gail spoke the word slowly, as if tasting it out on her lips. ‘You know, I was happy to meet her for you. When one of the AFL’s brightest stars says he’s spotted a woman with talent, of course I want to see her.’ She narrowed her eyes, a glint in them that said don’t mess with me. ‘But I don’t appreciate time-wasters. If she’s not at trials, there’ll be no second chances.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ I nodded. ‘I’m sure she won’t miss it.’
‘Okay. But don’t call me ma’am.’ Gail chuckled. ‘It makes me feel old. I barely have enough years on me to be your sister, let alone your mother.’
‘Of course.’ I chuckled. Gail had to be at least sixty.
She smiled wryly. ‘I like your spirit, Sawyer. I hope this girl of yours
has some. To play in a league that’s still developing, that’s facing the odds like ours? You have to.’
‘Women can play football too.’
Her body, tackling mine to the ground, no holds barred.
She had spirit, alright.
What she seemed to lack was staying power.
Just like Ava.
As Gail and I said our goodbyes, that thought lingered in my mind, throughout the press conference, where I ‘no comment’ed the one question a reporter dared to ignore directives and ask me anyway, and throughout dinner, where Ava sat at the next table with the other WAGs, laughing too loudly and chattering away all through the evening.
Zoe was just like Ava.
A fact I’d do well to remember.
***
The next day, I arrived at the Happy Families House reception. Coach had been happy to see the game ball go to a kid and a cause, and Leigh had been all too happy to sign it. I hadn’t wanted to ask the man of the match to put his scribble on the pigskin too, and luckily for me, Leigh had taken matters into his own hands, disappearing with the goods, then returning a few minutes later. Braden O’Reilly. It was scribbled front and centre, in line with the stitching.
‘Thought the kid might appreciate it.’ Leigh had winked as he’d handed the ball over.
‘Thanks.’ I had no doubt she would.
‘Zoe’ll just be a sec.’ The woman behind the desk smiled, tossing her curly blonde hair over her shoulder.
I stepped back from the counter and walked to the closest wall. Photographs of happy families were framed in thin black gloss. Each one had a plaque underneath. I stopped in front of one family, a mum, a dad, and twin girls. They were the spitting image of their mother—the same straight brown hair, the same wide eyes, the same slim build—but with their father’s beaming, slightly gap-toothed smile. Genetics.
My eyes drifted to the plaque underneath.
Julia Hanson. December 12, 2003–February 14, 2014.
‘My boss says she was one of the sweetest girls.’
I glanced to the right. Zoe stood beside me, her arms folded like a barricade against her chest. ‘Which one was—’
‘Here.’ Zoe indicated the girl on the right. On closer inspection, her smile didn’t seem quite as bright as her sister’s. When was this photo taken? Before she fell sick? Or after? ‘She had leukaemia. Spent a lot of time in and out of the house, as her family lived in Central New South Wales.’
Julia. Twin. Cancer sufferer.
They didn’t seem the right words to describe somebody. That wasn’t how I wanted to be remembered when I went. ‘What was Julia like?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you know what made her smile?’ I turned to Zoe, the football heavy in my hands. ‘Emily loves AFL. What did Julia love?’
Zoe smiled, small and sweet. A glassy film passed over her eyes. ‘Apparently, she loved to make people laugh.’
I’d never heard a sadder sentence.
‘This way.’ She straightened, leading me to a small conference room to the left of reception. She closed the door behind me, then walked to the opposite side of the space, as if she couldn’t get far enough away. Once there, she folded her arms again, barricaded against the wall, not speaking.
‘I brought the ball.’ I placed it down on the table. Was she angry? Upset?
‘Thanks.’ She stared at it, as if it were the last ball on earth she’d ever wanted to see.
‘It’s from the game. Figured if Emily couldn’t be there to see it, she could at least have the ball that scored the winning goal.’ Smile. Breathe easy.
But damn it, I was nervous. Why did she make me feel this way?
‘She will appreciate that.’ Zoe smiled, close-lipped. ‘I understand if you can no longer train this week. Grand finals are a big commitment, and—’
‘No!’ I blurted. ‘I can still find time to train with you. To help. For Emily.’
‘For Emily.’ She nodded slowly. ‘Tell me, was putting me in the corporate box with your ex-girlfriend for Emily too? Or was that for you?’
Oh, shit.
Ava.
I hadn’t even thought about that.
Of course Braden would have added her to the list.
Of course she’d have been in the same room as Zoe.
‘I should have known she’d be there.’ I shook my head. My ex had met Zoe, a woman who was her complete opposite in almost every way, from her interest in playing Aussie Rules to her love for children.
Was she jealous?
And did I even care if she was?
‘She introduced me to everyone as your girlfriend, and when I tried to correct her they all babbled over the top of me about how beautiful the supermodel was, and where they got their latest botox done.’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’
‘It was.’ Zoe raised her eyebrows. ‘And it made me think—was that what this agreement was to you the whole time? Did you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend so you could make your ex jealous?’
‘No!’ Shit. ‘Not exactly. I’d wanted to take you—’
‘You wanted to take me to a “dinner”, which I now suspect is more of a date, and then you begged me to come to your game so you could parade me around in front of your ex.’ She shook her head. ‘I know she hurt you, but didn’t you think how that would make me feel? Stuck in a small room with a woman who had it in for me, with no prior warning?’
‘I’m sure she didn’t have it in for you.’
‘She did.’
‘Ava’s got her flaws, just like everyone else, but she’s a nice person. She’s not the kind of woman who’d go after you just because you’re my new girlfriend, or—’
‘So you admit it! You did tell her I was your girlfriend.’ Her eyes flashed with danger as she stepped toward me. Fury radiated from her every pore.
‘I didn’t! And I would have explained all this to you if you’d stuck around until after the game instead of running away.’
‘Running away?’ She scoffed. ‘I told you, something came up, and since the only reason you wanted me there was to prove to your ex that you’d moved on, I guess it was mission accomplished for you.’
‘What came up, Zoe? What?’ I yelled. ‘I organised for the coach from the women’s team to be there. I pulled a few favours. Then I looked like a goddamn fool when the woman I’d told the coach such big things about never even showed.’
Zoe blinked, her head to the side. ‘I … I don’t understand.’
‘That was why I wanted you to come to the game. Yes, I wanted your support, but I wanted to introduce you to Gail. She was there to meet you after.’
For a moment, Zoe seemed to be frozen in shock.
Even in her anger, her confusion, I couldn’t look away. I want her.
‘No.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘And even if that’s the case, it doesn’t change the fact that I was there in a room with your ex, completely unprepared for the vile things that came out of her mouth. That this whole thing was a ploy to make her jealous.’
‘This whole thing was about trying to prove to Emily that dreams can come true. And because I needed a date I wouldn’t have to worry about falling for,’ I barked.
It was as if I’d slapped her across the face.
Her lips parted in an O. Her skin paled to the colour of the stark walls around us.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you. Get out.’
‘Zoe, I should explain. I didn’t mean that to sound—’
‘I never want to see you again!’ she yelled, pointing to the door. ‘Get out. Now.’
Christ. How had things gone so terribly wrong?
There were a million things I wanted to say.
You’re moving overseas—that’s why we’d never work.
You hate AFL players.
You let me down when I needed you to be there.
But none of them fell from my lips.
Instead, I turned and walked away.
/>
Some arguments, you just couldn’t win.
Some games you never should play in the first place.
Chapter 13
Zoe
I stared down at the deep red wine. I’d thought this was what I wanted—a long drink to try and wash away the pain of those words that still sat in the back of my mind. I needed a date I wouldn’t have to worry about falling for.
I took a small sip. Rich. Spicy. Deep.
With one finger, I pushed the base of the glass away. It was too much. I already had so many feelings swirling inside me—the last thing I needed was to add alcohol to the mix.
What I needed was to get out on the field and play—to sweat out all this emotion, all this energy. But I had to sit through dinner with Jarren tonight first, and as much as I wasn’t looking forward to it, at least talking about work would distract me from the man I hadn’t been able to get off my mind all day.
Even if Jarren was fifteen minutes late.
I grabbed my phone again.
Sixteen.
Make that sixteen minutes late.
Flicking through my emails, a new one lit up the screen, this one from Nurses Abroad.
Dear Zoe,
Thank you again for your time. We have enjoyed meeting you through this recruitment process and look forward to helping you help others very soon. Just a reminder that we need a reference from your current place of employment within the next three weeks to continue with your application. Once this is received, we can start to process your visa and discuss health regulations and recommendations we have for you prior to going overseas.
Warm regards,
Amanda
The reference.
That one last requirement.
That is why you’re here, I reminded myself. To get the glowing recommendation from Dean.
If Jarren was late, he was late.
‘Excuse me, ma’am? Are you Zoe Taylor?’ The bartender walked over, his head cocked.
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Wetherley has arrived and is seated at your table.’ He gestured to the entrance to the restaurant, and I followed his hand to the table near the back. Finally.
Jarren was near identical to his father, all strong jawline, dark eyes and a shock of dark hair. Here was hoping he’s similar in attitude, too, for Tahlia’s sake, when he began work next year. For all his blunt demeanour, Dean was known for being kind but fair.
A Whole New Ball Game Page 6