“You’re done!”he shouts.“Get the fuck off the pitch.”
My head drops.There’s no point in arguing.I’m only dragging the lads down.I slip off my armband and hand it over.
“Murray!”Coach shouts after me, just before I hit the tunnel.“Whatever’s going on, fix it.”
I nod and leave the pitch.When I get to the locker room, I head straight into the showers, still in my kit.
I can’t fix anything until I figure out what’s wrong.All I know is that he’s the only one who can drag me out of this heavy, toxic cloud before I lose everything.
By the timemy teammates step into the locker room, I’m already dressed.No one talks to me.They seem low in spirits; I imagine they think the game’s outcome rests on me.I grab my bag and step outside, trying to avoid being questioned, but Ryan isn’t someone who backs down.If he has his eye on a bone to chew, he won’t stop until he’s satisfied.
He stands in front of me, blocking the exit, arms crossed over his chest.He has the look of someone who wants to know everything, and wants it now.
“Let me out.”
“No fucking way.”
“Ryan…”
“What?Ryan, what?Something is wrong, and I want to know what it is.”
“Why the fuck do you care?”
“Because you’re my friend.”
I snort and look away.
“You are one of the family.”
“I’m not family.I’m nobody.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“It’s just the truth.”
“Is that your problem?You don’t feel like part of the family?Now that Riley has married Ian, you?—”
“No!”I immediately stop him.“Don’t.I won’t stay here and let you analyse me.”
“Of course.You can analyse everyone, but no one can do it to you.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you realise how fucked-up this is?”
“Then let me out.”
“I can’t do that.”
I drop my bag to the ground and close the distance, pressing my chest to his.Ryan is taller, bigger, probably much stronger than I am, but I don’t care.I just need to get out of here, and if I have to go through him to do it, I will.
Ryan doesn’t flinch.He simply steps back and lets me pass.He doesn’t do it out of fear or to avoid a fight.He does it for my sake, and that hurts even more.
I grab my bag, push open the door, and leave the locker room, heading down the corridor.
“This isn’t abouthim, right?”His voice cuts through the quiet and catches me off guard.
I freeze.The abruptness of Ryan’s question hits hard.He doesn’t need to sayhisname.If Ryan is asking, it’s because he already knows.And if Ryan knows, thenhemust know too, which means I’m completely fucked.
