Oliver’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as his eyes turned from their usual blue to inky black. I opened my mouth, then closed it. The pain in his voice as he spoke of his father made me regret ever opening my mouth. Sorrow, pain, and grief weren’t limited only to people who could afford to feel those things.
They didn’t discriminate.
He stared down at me as I stepped closer, tangible emotion swirling in his eyes that made my chest ache. I placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it softly before it fell back to my side. ‘I’m sorry. My whole life, money has been the thing I was supposed to strive for. Get a job that earns you a high salary because otherwise, you’re not as valuable as a person. I’ve always felt that way, and I’m sorry for putting it on you.’
The air went taut between us. The intensity in his gaze softened after a moment, and he dipped his head in a jerky nod.
Only a few feet of distance separated us. As if only now becoming aware of it, Oliver cleared his throat and took a step back.
‘So, are you gonna tell me why we’re here?’ He eyed me sceptically.
Pushing past the awkwardness of the past few moments, I headed to the corner of the net to retrieve a football. I bent down to pick one up and tossed it to Oliver, who caught it with a raised eyebrow.
I walked out of the net and took several steps before turning back to him.
‘Well… you don’t like talking about yourself.’
He tucked the football under his arm, not for a moment losing the dubious expression.
‘Feel like that was pretty obvious, Pooh.’ His eyes sparkled with humour. Something buzzed in my stomach. The pain that had clouded his face moments earlier was quickly disappearing. I swallowed thickly and kicked the ground with the heel of my shoe. Ballet flats weren’t the ideal footwear on this muddy field, but some sacrifices needed to be made for the greater good.
And right now, the greater good was getting Oliver to stop seeing this book as the enemy and instead see it as the opportunity it was.
‘I’m going to ignore the nickname because I have an ulterior motive.’
‘Which is?’
I let out a heavy sigh. ‘Everyone around you has been so focused on getting your reputation back, or the club’s reputation. It’s all been about money and who’s said what. I wanted you to remember why you’re doing all this in the first place. You loved this game long before someone paid you to play. I suppose I just wanted you to remember that.’
My cheeks flamed bright red. Now that I said it all out loud, I realised what a stupid fucking idiot I sounded like. He didn’t needmetelling him he loved this sport. He obviously knew that.
I had just taken him to a place where the thing he loved most in the world took place and shone a blinding light onthe fact that he couldn’t take part any more. It was like taking an addict into a bar and showing them everything they’re missing out on.Fucking shit.What was wrong with me?
An embarrassed laugh bubbled out of my throat as I avoided eye contact. Oliver hadn’t said a single word. ‘Okay, now that those words have left my mouth, I’m beginning to realise what a twat I sounded like. We, uh, should definitely go now.’
The football dropped to the floor, and Oliver kicked it towards me. Sheepishly, I took a peak at him. Instead of seeing frustration etched on his features, his lips split apart in a soft smile.
The ball rolled to a stop in front of me.
I stared at it dumbfounded.
‘Have you ever kicked a football, Pooh?’
‘Uh, not since I was twelve. But I’m not sure that counts; it was an accident.’
A line of confusion creased his brow. ‘How do you accidentally kick a football?’
My lips curled up at the memory. ‘I tripped over this ridiculous dress my mother made me wear for a family wedding and accidentally kicked a ball across the garden.’
A warm chuckle shook Oliver’s shoulders. ‘Only you,’ he muttered under his breath.
I was about to ask him what he meant by that when he closed the distance between us and grinned down at me.
‘Allow me to show you how to kick a ballon purpose.’
28
FALLON
