Table of Contents
Chapter One – Luca
Chapter Two – Elise
Chapter Three – Luca
Chapter Four – Elise
Chapter Five – Luca
Chapter Six - Elise
Chapter Seven - Luca
Chapter Eight – Elise
Chapter Nine – Luca
Chapter Ten – Elise
Chapter Eleven – Luca
Chapter Twelve – Elise
Chapter Thirteen – Luca
Chapter Fourteen – Elise
Chapter Fifteen – Luca
Chapter Sixteen – Elise
Chapter Seventeen – Luca
Chapter Eighteen – Elise
Chapter Nineteen – Luca
Chapter Twenty – Elise
Chapter Twenty-One – Luca
Chapter Twenty-Two – Elise
Chapter Twenty-Three – Luca
Chapter Twenty-Four – Elise
Chapter Twenty-Five – Luca
Chapter Twenty-Six – Elise
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Luca
Chapter Twenty-Eight – Elise
Chapter Twenty-Nine – Luca
Chapter Thirty – Elise
Chapter Thirty-One – Luca
Chapter Thirty-Two – Elise
Chapter Thirty-Three – Luca
Chapter Thirty-Four – Elise
Chapter Thirty-Five – Luca
Chapter Thirty-Six – Elise
Chapter Thirty-Seven – Luca
Chapter Thirty-Eight – Elise
Chapter Thirty-Nine – Luca
Epilogue – Elise
Overtime
Playing The Field #1
Copyright © 2021 by Rebecca Barber. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: September 2021
Cover Designed: KatDeezigns 2021
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
For my family.
The last few years have been the craziest rollercoaster, but your love and support kept me going and kept me wanting to keep chasing my dreams.
I can’t ever thank you enough.
Chapter One – Luca
“After yet another embarrassing loss, questions are being asked of the Western Sydney Wolves coach, Elias Fischer, about his decision to keep playing veteran Luca Conti. Conti who has…”
“Mum! Can you turn that crap off?” I practically growled, already sick of hearing the bullshit they were spewing.
“Luca!”
“Sorry, Mum. Can you please turn that crap off?” I tried again, this time remembering my manners.
A moment later, the TV fell silent and Mum came to face me. I was sitting in a seat, perched at the kitchen bench. It’d been the one place in the world I’d felt like I could just be me my whole life. It’d never changed. Coming home, eating Mum’s cooking, spending time with my family, this was my reality. Out there, the world didn’t make sense. But in here, perched at the bench waiting for Mum to pull her Tiramisu out of the fridge and hand me a spoon, everything just fit.
“You know they’re wrong.” She smiled a soft smile as she wiped her hands on the dish towel draped over her shoulder.
But were they? That was the question I kept asking myself. The question that’d been haunting me. It was no secret that I was getting old and slowing down. Even I couldn’t hide that fact. It seemed no matter how hard I trained or how strictly I stuck to my diet, I was never going to be as fast and as smooth as I once had been.
After retiring from the Australian representative team two years ago, I’d finished up my contract with English Premier League side, Southampton, and headed home to accept a yearlong contract with the Western Sydney Wolves. I wasn’t ready to give up the game and become one of those guys with a belly that was starting to test the strength of my belt, drinking beer and reminiscing about my glory days. I wasn’t that old yet. But a one-year contract turned into two and now here I was, staring down what was possibly the last season of my career, and as a team, we were tanking.
Before I had a chance to say anything, I was attacked by the cutest kid on the face of the planet. Phoebe, my sister Sienna’s three-year-old terror, came barrelling towards me, running as fast as her little legs could carry her before launching herself into my arms.
“Hey, Grandma, look what I caught. A monkey!” I smiled at Mum as I settled Phoebe in my lap and pushed the stray blonde curl out of her face.
“I’m not a monkey, silly,” she chided.
“You’re not? What are you then?”
“I’m Phoebe.”
“Ah! Well then, hello, Phoebe.”
“Hi, Uncle Luca.”
As I planted a loud, wet kiss on her cheek, she squirmed in my arms until I set her back on her feet before wiping away my kiss with the back of her arm.
“I don’t want boy germs,” she explained.
Pretending to pout, I faked sad.
“Grandma’s don’t have boy germs. Do I get a cuddle, Princess Phoebe?” Mum cooed, stealing her attention. I watched as she took off towards Mum before throwing herself at Mum’s legs, squeezing her as tight as she could.
Ignoring everything from the flour on her hands, to the pot on the stove bubbling behind her, Mum focused all her attention on Phoebe. She was a freaking awesome grandma. My sister’s kids, all six of them, were lucky to have her on their side.
While I watched as Mum talked about something I didn’t understand, girl stuff I imagine, I got bumped from behind from a huge, bulging belly.
“Hey, big brother.”
“You’re calling me big?” I teased, looking at Arianna’s pregnant belly. She wasn’t far off popping, at least she looked like she wasn’t, and staring into her face I could see she was already over it.
“Mum! Luca’s calling me fat!” she whined, dobbing me in like she did when we were kids. Sometimes it had sucked growing up with three sisters who annoyed the shit out of me and ganged up against me.
“Luca, be nice to your sister.”
Poking her tongue out at me, she dropped into the seat beside me. “Where are the boys?”
“At the skate park with Josh, thank God. They’re exhausting.”
“Good thing you’re having another one then.”
“Sometimes I hate you, you know that?”
I roughed up her hair, and she squirmed, but with her bump in the way and me being almost a foot taller than my tiny sibling, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “Nah, you love me.”
“Debatable. Anyway, what happened last night?”
“You saw?”
“Of course I did.”
“You shouldn’t watch,” I grumbled. I’d played like shit and knowing they’d seen it made me feel even worse; something I didn’t know was possible.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course we’re going to watch. If you play here, we’re sitting in the stands cheering our arses off. If you’re away, we sit in front of the TV and coach you from the couch,” Mum explained matter-of-factly.
It didn’t surprise me. Not really. She’d seen every single one of my games since I was a kid. If she wasn’t sitting in the stands cheering louder than all the other parents, embarrassing
the crap out of me, then she was cutting up oranges or covering a shift in the canteen. Mum had always been my number one supporter. Maybe that’s why it was so hard now. I felt like I was letting her down. Maybe I should just give up and accept that I was done. Start coaching kids or something.
Twenty minutes later and the house descended into chaos. Everyone was here. Sunday dinners were a thing with my family, a big thing, and even though I’d missed more than I’d attended, this was what home was all about. Family and food. Especially in my family.
Setting the last platter down on the table, Mum took her seat next to Dad, and he reached for her hand. There was a time when seeing their displays of affection made me want to gag, but these days it gave me hope. I was an old man. A lonely old man. Perhaps that’s why I was clinging so desperately to the game that had once been the love of my life. The only love of my life. It was all I had and if I lost it, I lost everything I knew.
After Dad finished saying grace and we also murmured our ‘Amens’, people started piling their plates high. Rocking back in my chair, I watched and waited my turn. My sisters were pains in the arse at the best of times but they’d gotten it right. Arianna and Isabella were married, with their tribe of terrors trailing them. Sienna, the baby of our family, was the latest to join motherhood, with the most adorable little girl you could imagine. After marrying her AFL ruckman husband, one who truly believed he played a real sport – loser – she’d settled into their life, but it wasn’t easy. With Hunter being on the road most weekends, there was a lot of time when it was just Sienna and Phoebe. Not that it’d matter. Sienna and Phoebe would never want for anything. Between her doting uncles, her poppy and her cousins, she’d never miss out on having someone there.
Then there was me. The loser of the family. I was thirty-four years old and completely alone. I didn’t even have a dog. I couldn’t. I travelled so much it wouldn’t be fair. So instead, I had my house on the hill that was devoid of human life. Even though I’d owned it for almost six years, rooms were still empty and boxes needed to be unpacked. The drive to turn it into a home had never hit me. I would’ve been better off not wasting my money and buying some shoebox apartment.
“So, Luca, found a girlfriend yet?”
Ah! There it was. The reason I wasn’t completely devastated when I couldn’t make it each week for dinner. The moment when the spotlight inevitably shone on me and my pathetic love life – or lack thereof.
“Nope.”
“Are you ever going to get married, Uncle Luca?” My ten-year-old nephew, Jake, asked as he stuffed a forkful of pasta in his mouth.
“Maybe. One day,” I replied wistfully.
Thankfully, my family knew when to push and when to back off, and now was one of those times when backing off was the answer. After we’d cleaned up, a game of soccer broke out in the backyard. My Dad was attempting to play referee and keep the peace, but he couldn’t keep up with his grandsons who hadn’t quite learnt the fine art of tackling and were knocking each other to the ground.
“Luca! Get out here and play, son,” he summoned.
Knowing better than to say no to the old man when he was barking instructions, I set my beer down on the railing and bounded down the steps. “Whose team am I on?” I asked.
Kids were funny sometimes. I often got roped into doing school visits and making appearances at various coaching clinics, and every time, kids fought to make sure I was on their team. I guess having an Australian jersey hanging in the closet meant I wasn’t the worst pick. But here, in my parents’ backyard where no one was watching, I was just Uncle Luca. Someone they fought to not have on their team. Their parents, my sisters and their husbands found the whole thing hilarious. Especially Nathan. Nathan was Isabella’s husband. He was an accountant by day, and with his receding hairline and expanding waist, he thought it was funny as all hell that he was chosen to play before me. Something I was pretty sure had never actually happened before.
After one of the most aggressive games of soccer I’d ever been a part of, one that had resulted in one scraped knee, two kids in tears, and me lying on the ground being climbed on and tickled by my nephews, I kissed Mum on the head and made my way home. Alone. Pulling into the driveway, I stared up at the dark house, wishing I was anywhere else.
Chapter Two – Elise
“My kids are feral today,” I complained as I bit into my apple.
“I feel you,” one of the other teachers, Trish, agreed as we enjoyed a much-needed time-out in the staff room.
It was only Tuesday and already it’d been one hell of a long week. It’d poured with rain yesterday, which meant we kept our classes indoors, something that was not fun when you had twenty-seven nine and ten year olds who only wanted to do one of two things. Either argue or run around causing havoc. Keeping them inside meant their options were limited.
“You’ve got the soccer clinic this afternoon, don’t you?”
Rolling my eyes hard, I mumbled my agreement. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the idea of a clinic, but they were always so badly organised and such a pain in the arse. Add in the fact I knew the playground was muddy and soggy from yesterday’s downpour, and I knew I was in for a fun afternoon.
“Aren’t you excited? They’re sending players from the Wolves aren’t they?”
“That’s what Jess told me.” Not that I really knew what that meant. I mean, I knew the Wolves were the locally based soccer team who played in the national competition, but I had no idea who the players were, if they were any good, or even what colour jerseys they wore.
The bell rang, and I found my feet, tugging my t-shirt down over my butt. With a long afternoon of sports ahead of me, I’d already changed into a pair of leggings, baggy t-shirt, and my favourite pink runners. Surrounded by other teachers in their pressed pants and pretty dresses, I felt completely underdressed, but it was what it was. Nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t about to run around the field in a frilly skirt and sandals.
“Wish me luck,” I called out to Trish, dropping my apple core in the bin as I headed out the door.
Stepping out onto the undercover walkway was like stepping into the middle of a stampede. Kids raced about in every direction, laughing and screaming. My class must have been excited. By the time I made my way to my classroom, almost everyone was standing in two lines outside the door. The two biggest troublemakers, Robert and Simon, standing proudly at the front of the line. They were up to something. I’d never seen them standing front and centre before. Let alone quiet and still.
“Is it time yet, Miss McCoy?” Robert asked hopefully.
“Almost. We just need to go inside for a bit first.”
The truth was we had half an hour to kill, and I had no idea what I was going to get them to do. Trying to get them to settle was a fight I wasn’t up for. Ushering them through the door, the other fourth-grade teacher, Mr Sullivan, appeared dressed casually in shorts, t-shirt, and a pair of bright-orange runners.
“You ready for this?”
“No.”
“Ah, come on, Elise. It’ll be fun. The kids will have a blast.”
“I know they will. They’ve been looking forward to this since I told them.”
“Well, I better go and try to wrangle the troublemakers. See you in a bit.”
“Sounds good.”
As he headed towards his own room, he turned back. “And, Elise?”
“Yes, Corey?”
“Bring your smile. You look gorgeous when you smile.”
I must’ve looked like an idiot. Standing at the bottom of the step, mouth gaping, I was stunned. Corey had never said something like that to me before. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a good guy, he was, but there was something about him that just didn’t click with me. It felt awkward. We were friends, colleagues, but we’d never be anything more. I just wasn’t interested in him that way. And up until now, I assumed the feeling was mutual. Now I was second-guessing everything he’d ever said and all the favours he’d done.
/> “Miss McCoy!” My name was called out, and I snapped out of whatever daze I was caught in. Hurrying up the steps I pushed away all thoughts. I’d unpack that mess later tonight with a bottle of wine and my best boyfriend, Jaxson.
Twenty minutes later I gave up. Making sure everyone had their hats on, I grabbed my own baseball cap and sunglasses before stuffing my phone in my bra. Leggings may have been the most comfortable item of clothing in the world, but they were missing something I loved more than I loved my cat, Snuggles – Pockets. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of leggings with pockets.
“All right. Remember. Best behaviour. We’re going to walk down to the back playground now.”
“Do we have to?” Willow whined. I would’ve liked to pretend hearing her complaint surprised me, but it didn’t. Not one little bit. Willow was the princess of the class. She cried if she got dirt on her shoes, and my classroom became hell on earth if she spilt something on her skirt. If she hadn’t been such an adorable little girl, complete with blonde ringlets and blue eyes, I’m positive she wouldn’t have gotten away with half the shit she did.
I didn’t bother to answer. Instead, I led my class of misfits towards the playground and prepared myself for an afternoon of torture.
By the time I got down there, Corey’s class was already running around while he sat in the shade under a tree. Standing on the sideline, next to a mountain of gear, was a group of adults dressed in matching purple polos.
“Hi! I’m Elise,” I said, waving as I approached the group.
A guy I hadn’t noticed stood up, towering over me. He was stunning. Almost a foot taller than me, scruff on his chin, and hands big enough to clasp the soccer ball he was holding. Under my baseball cap and glasses, I could feel my cheeks heating from the way he looked at me. When his eyes travelled down my body over my hips, I saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.
“Hey, Elise. I’m Marianne. I think we spoke on the phone, I’m the team’s publicist.”
“Yeah, that was me.”
“Great! So, here’s what I’m thinking…” For the next ten minutes, she went through her plan for the afternoon of skills and drills.
Overtime (Playing The Field Book 1) Page 1