I knew she wanted to help, but that seemed a bit extreme. Besides, I didn’t want to have to deal with Elise if I was responsible for jeopardising Luca’s future daddy status.
“Hell yeah! I mean, sure.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ve gotta figure this one out on my own.”
“You sure?”
“Well, there’s one thing…”
“What?”
“You can keep running up those dunes in front of me in those black legging things you like so much,” I suggested.
“You mean the ones you like so much?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“I can do that,” Claire agreed before crawling over to the couch, settling on her knees before kissing me. It was funny, her kisses were better than any drug you could take. They made everything just feel…I dunno…better.
Convincing Claire to stay the week was harder than I thought. I understood her hesitation, but still it pissed me off. I was struggling, not that I wanted to admit it to her or anyone, but having her lying beside me, snoring softly, and making those adorable little mewling sounds helped me sleep. Brought me comfort.
It was Thursday again. They seemed to come around faster than I was ready for. I hated it. I hadn’t slept a wink last night, and as much as I wanted to blame Claire’s late shift and the fact it was easier for her to get back to her place than mine, this was all on me. I was the one messed up. The problem was, I had no idea how to drag myself out of the funk I was sinking deeper and deeper into.
When anxiety had threatened me before, I’d always had soccer to fall back on. It was the only real constant in my life. When Bryce moved to Adelaide and things had gotten really out of control, I did the only thing I knew how to. I’d trained. I’d trained longer than everyone else. I pushed harder. I lifted more. I ran further. I pushed until at the end of each day, I fell into bed, exhausted beyond words and too tired to think or care about anything else. Then the next day, I’d get up and repeat it all over again. I was living Groundhog Day.
Mum let me get away with it for a couple of weeks, I think she was secretly hoping it was a phase and I’d snap out of it. But it wasn’t until I collapsed coming out of the bathroom and she’d rushed me to the doctor that I asked for help.
I wasn’t at that point yet, but I could feel it edging closer and closer every day. Even though it seemed like I didn’t stop eating, I’d dropped five kilograms in the last three weeks with my overly rigorous training schedule, battling to try and prove I deserved to be out there.
I felt weak.
I felt tired.
I felt like a failure.
I fucking hated it.
More than once I’d thought about packing up all my shit, driving back to Melbourne, and becoming a plumber or electrician or something equally as boring. The thought had already crept in, planting the seed in my head that maybe I really couldn’t do this. That everyone had made a mistake to believe in me. That any moment, all that money sitting in my bank account was going to be gone.
Training started in two hours and I was sweating bullets. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep getting passed over and keep the smile plastered on my face, offering congratulations to the guys who’d got the jersey I so desperately wanted. It wasn’t that I didn’t want them to succeed, it was more my jealousy was getting out of control. Hell, I’d even stopped offering Claire tickets, not wanting her sitting in the stands watching me twiddle my thumbs on the bench. Or worse, in the stands beside her.
A knock at the door interrupted my pity party, and I hoped it was Claire. She was getting really good at distracting me from the voices in my head.
“Coming.”
Shrugging on my shirt, I hurried over and yanked open the door to find Bryce, Emma, and my parents all standing there looking worried.
“Hi?” I asked, waving them in.
“Seth.”
Dad stopped and shook my hand, but the other’s breezed past me. Thank God the place was tidy. I couldn’t deal with a surprise inspection this morning.
Not bothering to mess around, I asked bluntly. “What are you all doing here?”
“Checking on you,” Mum answered matter-of-factly, coming over and wrapping me in a hug so tight I had to tap her shoulder to get her to ease up enough so I could breathe.
Emma rubbed her growing bump before pulling out a stool and sitting down. Obviously, she was here as moral support but was taking a front-row seat in my intervention.
