For me.
The man who bleeds rugby put it on hold. To make sure my little sister has a sparkly hat and the confidence to wear it.
I hate him for doing this to me.
I love him for it, too.
It’s unfair, and it’s perfect, and I can’t get any air in because it hurts so fucking much.
He holds the hat out to me, every inch of him braced. ‘You can give it to her. Or…I can?’
I’m shaking, and I can’t tell if I want to hit him or throw myself into his arms and never let go.
Bit of both?
‘Why…’ My voice breaks. ‘Why did you—’
He squares his shoulders, but he doesn’t back down. ‘Because I couldn’t…not. Couldn’t let you go on believing I wouldn’t show up when it mattered. And to say that I’m sorry.’
Before I can think of a single damn thing to say, a familiar voice threads through the noise.
‘Charlie! Priya put glitter on my eyelids!’
I turn around, and there’s Hannah, beaming like she won the lottery, her hair a little less tidy than when she left, a streak of glitter already smudged on her cheek. Priya’s right behind her, giving me a thumbs-up.
‘You are extremely glittery,’ I croak out.
And then Hannah spots Brodie. Her features glitch mid-blink, and for a split second, I see her brain catch up to what she’s seeing – a giant, ruffled rugby player holding the sparkliest pink cowboy hat known to man.
‘Hannah, this is Brodie,’ I manage to say. ‘He’s…a client and…a friend. He plays rugby.’
‘Oh my God,’ she half-says, half-gasps, staring at Brodie like he’s some fairy tale prince. ‘Is that…for me?’
Brodie’s mouth tilts up in a soft smile. He leans down a bit, hat still in his grip. ‘Aye. Thought you might need it for your show. Can’t be a proper cowgirl superstar without a hat like this.’
Her hands cover her mouth. ‘You brought it for me? Why?’
‘Course I did. You’re Charlie’s sister – and you’re on in a few minutes, right? Do you want to try it on?’
She nods, and he reaches out, gently placing the hat on her head and adjusting it so it doesn’t mess up her hair.
‘Perfect fit,’ he says.
Hannah’s dimples dent as she grins up at him, then at me. ‘Charlie, your friend brought me a hat! That’s really nice. Check it out!’
‘I see that,’ I say, barely making it come out normal.
Brodie watches her with a kind of awe that undoes me – like he’s seeing her spark for what it is – and I can’t stand how much that moves me.
‘You know,’ he says with a conspiratorial tone, ‘I heard you’re gonna sing something good tonight.’
Hannah’s cheeks light up like traffic lights. ‘I’m singingTexas Hold ’Em. I practised a lot. A lot!’
Brodie’s jaw ticks. Then he nods. ‘Texas Hold ’Em, eh? Can’t seem to get away from that one. Good tune, though. Bet Beyoncé herself would be jealous.’
I brace for something. Tension, bitterness. But it doesn’t come. Only a faint smirk. Like he’s daring the universe to throw more poker jokes at him.
And I didn’t think I could be any prouder of him.
