No Sawyer.
‘I don’t know the answer. All I know is I don’t want you to hurt my brother, and I wish there was some way I could stop you from doing so.’ Kristy sighed.
The car pulled up outside the stadium. Around us, a sea of red, black, white, and yellow swarmed as people hurried to get in before kick-off, some waving team flags, others chanting team songs at the top of their lungs.
I craned my neck to see as much as I could, to drink it all in. The energy was electric— completely overpowering and intoxicating all at once. This is all for Sawyer. It was his game—his time to be in the spotlight. To play the match that would go on his résumé as career-defining, the one that changed it all. That gave him the opportunity to hold the trophy, see his smiling reflection in that gold plate.
‘Thank you for your patience. We have reached your destination.’ The intercom crackled as the driver made his announcement.
I opened my door, stopping to wait for Kristy at the side of the car. She joined me, and while the smile she gave me wasn’t hostile, we certainly weren’t going to be starting the friendship I’d hoped.
We walked toward the gate, two women who both cared for the same man very much. Neither of us wanted him to get hurt.
If only there was some way to stop that.
As we lined up behind a group of men all cheering loudly for the Sydney team, I touched Zoe’s arm. ‘Thanks for organising the car,’ I said softly. ‘It was really nice of you to go to all that trouble, and I know getting one last-minute, when everyone was so busy, wouldn’t have been easy.’
She looked at me strangely, her head cocked to the side. ‘Waiting was no problem,’ she said, a small frown appearing between her brows. ‘But I didn’t sort the car out for you. That was Ava.’
Chapter 27
Sawyer
Ever since I was little, I’d dreamed of holding the season plate. I’d wanted to jerk it high above my head, my teammates all around, the crowd roaring our victory in a beautiful song of emotion.
I stared at the ball in front of me.
This was it.
Do or die.
Game on.
We were six points down after that last goal, with only three minutes left on the clock. The boys were strewn down the field, and I knew this was our last chance—our last attempt to hold that trophy. The last chance for my childhood dream to come true.
Go time.
And it was all dependent on Braden.
His gaze was fixed on the ball, the player standing mark in front of him no doubt regretting the high tackle he’d just been penalised for. An easy mistake to make when your opponent was as short and stocky as Braden, and he was as tall as a damn gum tree. It wasn’t the first time we’d scored a penalty like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.
‘Come on, buddy,’ I muttered around my mouthguard. ‘Kick the damn ball.’
One shot—one goal. That was all we needed, and we’d be in the clear.
We’d be holding that trophy.
And in that moment, I wanted him to win. I wanted him to take the points for us, not just because it would mean victory, but also because he was my mate, and sure, he did something that had hurt me, but he deserved this. We’d sweated through years on the oval together, through training sessions in the pouring rain, through fractured ribs and black-and-blue bruises, through being chewed out in the locker room for not doing our best, not giving our all, even when we’d been sure we had.
Now, he was with my ex. He’d kept it secret from me and been found out in the most public of ways.
And I didn’t care.
When had that happened? When had it stopped hurting so much?
I pictured Ava and Braden together, talking, laughing without me. The two people I’d thought were the most important in my world, keeping secrets.
It didn’t hurt.
It was like an old scar—I could see the place where the wound had been, but when I pressed against it, it was numb. Nothing. That happened to a different guy, a different Sawyer.
One before the grand final.
One before Zoe.
Braden’s shoulders tensed. This was it. He was going to do it.
And as he ran toward the ball, ready to kick it over the mark’s head and toward the goal posts in the distance, I hoped like hell he got it. He needed a win just as much as we all did.
The ball oophed from his foot, sailing through the air. My eyes followed it, every muscle tense. Come on. Come on.
***
Zoe
I clenched the railing tighter, my eyes zeroed on that ball as it sailed through the air.
Come on. Get it done.
It veered dangerously close to the left post. I held my breath. No, no, no.
Then it arced back through the tall middle posts, a textbook perfect six-pointer.
‘We did it!’ an older man next to me shouted.
The crowd roared, a sea of noise as people stamped their feet against the bleachers, cheered as loudly as they could. On field, Braden flashed a megawatt grin before his teammates all piled on top of him, covering him in a stacks-on pile of man muscle. Sawyer. He was the first one to dive.
They’ve made up. I clapped again, and again and again, until the palms of my hands hurt from hitting each other.
By the time the ruckus died down, there was a stand-off going in the stadium, the other side all scowls and expressions of loss as the ref signalled for the final two minutes of play to commence. I gripped my hands tight around the railing. Not much time, but enough. Enough for Sydney to come back and steal that plate before we’d managed to get both hands on it.
But the boys were good. As the offense for the opposing team ran down the line, Sawyer tackled, sending him to the ground. Another Sydney player took possession of the ball, but seconds later, Leigh was there, stopping play once more.
The final whistle blew.
We won.
We won!
I screamed, joined by tens of thousands of others in the stadium as the team below finally lay claim to the plate, for the first time in twelve long years. He did it—Sawyer did it.
The guys broke down. Some hugged. Some ran circles—perhaps mindless energy burnt through them.
‘Come on.’ Kristy tugged at my arm.
‘Where—’
‘To the boys.’ She led me out of the box and down the aisle behind the other women, a stampede toward the men we loved.
Out in the bleachers, the crowds were thick. Drops of beer fell from the sky, and the scent of sweat and salt cloaked the air, made it hard to breathe too deep.
‘Excuse me, WAGs coming through!’ Ava called from the front of the line, and people actually moved out of the way. Wow. She was good at this.
She reached the last stair, the rest of us huddled behind her like a pack of baby birds. Tapping the man in front of her on the shoulder, she said, ‘Excuse me. I need to get around. I—’
‘You can get around me any time you want.’
Jarren.
He turned and leered at Ava as if she were that expensive bottle of red he’d ordered at the restaurant the other night.
‘I’m with Braden Rivers. Can you please move out of the way so I can congratulate my man?’ She held her head high, her voice icy.
‘How ’bout you celebrate with me instead? I can make it worth your—’ His eyes locked on mine. ‘Well, well, well. Zoe! Such a pleasure to see you.’ He stepped aside, and Ava charged through. We all followed, Kristy and I stuck at the back and unfortunately, level with Jarren. ‘You’re looking … lovely.’ His eyes ran up and down my body. Naked. I felt naked.
Ignore him. I stood on my tippy-toes and scanned the field. Braden came running over, his face one big smile from his lips to his eyes.
‘We did it, baby!’ He pulled Ava over the barrier onto the grounds, spinning her high in the air. The crowd cheered again as he planted one on her lips.
‘You trying to land yourself a football player now, huh?’ Ja
rren prodded my arm. ‘I’m hurt. Obviously, a man in management isn’t enough for you.’
‘Can it, Jarren.’ I craned my neck, searching for—there. Sawyer jogged toward the side of the stadium. His eyes weren’t focused, roaming over the crowd—and then they were. He found me. He grinned, and my heart beat faster. He was there for me.
‘That’s not what she said at dinner the other night,’ Jarren continued. ‘She loves to play hard to get.’
Who was he—
Shit.
Kristy.
I turned to Sawyer’s sister. She raised both eyebrows at me, questioning. ‘You went on a date with this creep?’ ‘I—’
‘Zoe!’ Sawyer called from the sidelines. Martina moved aside, pulling me through to him.
‘I’ll explain later,’ I said over my shoulder, but the crowd swooped in, stealing my view of Kristy and Jarren and presenting me directly in front of Sawyer.
‘C’mere.’ He placed both hands around my waist, then lifted me up and over the stadium wall as if I were light as a feather.
‘I’m so proud of you.’ I linked my hands behind his neck as he returned me to the ground.
‘I’m—we won!’ He smiled, and I smiled, and this feeling was like walking on a cloud—so high and yet so much to lose. He smacked a kiss against my lips then pulled me tight to his hard, broad chest.
Want stirred through me. ‘I can’t wait to get you alone and show you just what I think of you winning,’ I whispered.
His eyes flickered with desire. ‘I fucking love you.’
He stopped. His face morphed from one of happiness to one of horror.
I shook my head. No. No, he couldn’t love me. I was leaving. This was—
No.
‘I meant in the … y’know, the not literal sense,’ he said, backtracking physically and metaphorically. ‘I just meant it like …’
It doesn’t matter how you meant it, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t.
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t, because the words were out there in the universe and try as he might, he could never take them back, and I needed to pretend they didn’t exist.
I couldn’t yell at him, but that wasn’t the worst part.
It was hearing those words that stirred something deep inside me.
Because maybe I loved him too.
Chapter 28
Sawyer
I told her I loved her.
I swore at her, and I told her I loved her.
Who fucking did that?
What the hell was wrong with me?
‘Drink up!’ Leigh placed another whiskey in front of me before sliding the rest of the glasses around the table, and we all cheers’ed. ‘To the grand final winners, you legends!’
‘Hey,’ I called along with the others shouting their cheers. The hotel bar was packed; Killers fans and members of the general public alike stopped to stare as we knocked back our third round of drinks, even though we’d only stopped here for an hour to shower and change.
Zoe was upstairs packing. Her flight left tonight, something she’d told me days ago and I’d shrugged about, but something that now felt like such bad timing.
We needed to talk—but what was I supposed to say? How did I take back that stupid sentence?
You couldn’t.
That was the problem.
You couldn’t, especially when you realised after you said it that you meant every word.
‘Sawyer, you’re up.’ Leigh clapped my back. Another round already? He jerked his head toward the lobby.
Zoe.
She stood there in the middle of all those people. Damn, she was beautiful. A tight white T-shirt hugged her body, jeans that looked painted on making those long legs look somehow longer. I wanted them wrapped around me.
I want her.
But more than that, I wanted to take that lost expression from her face. I wanted to make her smile, because she looked so miserable, and I hated that I was the cause of that.
I stood, thanking the guys who congratulated me on the win, then made my way over to her side.
‘So I guess this is goodbye then, huh?’ I glanced down at her suitcase.
‘I guess.’ She didn’t move. Around us, people talked, laughed, yelled, but we were locked in this silent bubble.
Eventually, she gave a small smile, shrugging. ‘Well, I should get a cab, head to the airport …’
‘You could stay.’
‘I can’t. I have work in the morning, and even the first flight won’t get me there for a seven am start.’
‘Your patients need you.’ I linked my fingers with hers. ‘Emily needs you.’
‘She does.’ Finally, I coaxed a smile from her lips, even if it was to do with a little girl, not me. ‘Listen, about before …’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ She shook her head, her smile bright. ‘I know you didn’t mean it. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing.’
‘I—’
‘I’m so sorry to do this, but could you please take a selfie with me?’ Some woman bustled between us, shoving her tits in my face.
‘Just a second, I—’
‘It’s fine.’ Zoe shook her head. She leaned closer to me, wrapping her hand around my arm. As her soft lips brushed over my own, I hated that it felt more like goodbye than any other moment we’d shared.
She shifted her body until her mouth was near my ear, her hand still clutching me as if it never wanted to let go. ‘It’s all just a game, right?’
No.
She pulled away, grasping the handle of her bag.
‘No, Zoe, that’s not what it is. It was never a game to me. I—’
‘Is that your girlfriend? She is so cute,’ the woman with the boobs interjected, giggling. ‘You know, I could be up for a little girl-on-girl action if you’re interested. I—’
‘Zoe,’ I called, but the crowd swallowed her up, creating a barrier between us.
She reached the hotel doors, and even as my eyes stayed on her the whole time, even as I waited, waited, waited for it—
She didn’t look back.
Not even for a second.
***
My head pulsed.
My throat ached, as if someone had run sandpaper along it.
I pushed back from the pillow, reaching out across the bed for—
Pillows.
Just empty sheets and empty pillows.
It had only been two nights, but already I’d gotten used to sleeping beside her beautiful body.
‘Wake up, big boy!’
I flinched. Someone hammered at my door. Too loud. Too early. Too much.
I miss Zoe.
‘Go away!’ I called.
‘The bus leaves in five. Get your arse out of bed or I’ll come in there and do it for you.’
Braden.
I slapped my hand on the bedside table. The edge of my phone was cool against my skin, and I slid it over, squinting one eye open to check the time.
Ten twenty-five.
Shit.
He wasn’t kidding.
The bus really did leave soon.
I threw the covers back and stumbled to the bathroom, turning the shower on full bore before sucking in a deep breath and stepping underneath it. Cold water needled my body. I flinched, my muscles tense, before raising my head to the spray and letting it cool my head.
I grabbed the soap and scrubbed, scrubbed as hard as I could, but nothing would cleanse me of that empty feeling that sat in my chest. No amount of alcohol had filled the void either, as my pounding head could attest to.
I didn’t know what was going on with Zoe and me, but a crowded hotel lobby hadn’t been the place to ask about it further, and the underground bar I’d called her from when her plane landed a few hours later hadn’t been the place either. This was the sort of thing that required a face-to-face chat.
And I was gonna make her my first port of call when we landed in Melbourne.
I got dressed, slipped my sunnies in my pocke
t, and shoved my clothes into my bag to the sound of more knocking. Damn it, he’d slipped right back into the role of best friend, nagging the hell out of me already.
I slung my bag over my shoulder, stuffed my phone in my pocket and opened the door. ‘Damn it, Braden, I—’
‘Coffee?’ Kristy held out a cardboard takeaway cup in one hand, a newspaper tucked under her arm.
‘You are an angel.’ I threw my arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. ‘Of the highest degree.’
‘It’s part of my job description. Along with PR genius, fixer of problems, and writer of the best press releases in town.’ She gave a gentle shove at my chest, her nose wrinkled. ‘Please don’t touch me again. You smell like a brewery.’
‘Sorry.’ I took a sip of the coffee as we hustled down the hall to the lift. ‘Things last night got a little …’
‘Celebratory?’ Kristy pressed the newspaper into my chest.
I unfolded it.
Whoa.
There on the front page was a photo of the team holding the plate, with a series of smaller images in black and white down the side like a strip of bad dreams. One showed Leigh standing on a table in the middle of a club, his shirt off. The other had Ava straddling Braden’s waist, as if they were in a private room instead of the middle of the bar. The last showed me hunched over a pot plant, clutching at my gut.
‘Did you throw up in a pot plant?’ Her tone left little room for misinterpretation.
‘No! It’s just a weird angled photo.’ God, the media could twist any little thing … ‘I didn’t!’ I protested when Kristy raised her eyebrows higher still. Damn it, they’d reach her hairline soon.
‘Good to know. Regardless, me and the girls have one hell of a shit storm to clean up. Leigh, taking his shirt off?’ She shook her head, taking the newspaper back and tucking it under her arm again. ‘He should have known better.’
‘Ah, what harm’s been done? It was our first grand final. I’m sure no one holds it against us.’ Did I take off my shirt at any point? No. I’d definitely stayed clothed. My memories of the night, though blurred, were still intact.
The lift binged, and the doors opened. We walked inside, and Kristy pressed the button for the lobby while I pulled my phone from my pocket, typing out a quick text.
A Whole New Ball Game Page 14