‘I should’ve seen it.’ Coach pulls back, clamping my arms. ‘I should have seen the rot.’ He looks at the door, at the team waiting for me. ‘Go on. Get out of here.’
Brodie slaps my back. Jamie nods. The lads part to let me through, touching my arm, my shoulder. Tethering me. We spill out of the building.
‘You owe me a pizza,’ Finn says. ‘And a very long, very detailed explanation.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘I do.’
We spill into the car park. The adrenaline dampens, leaving a sour taste on my tongue.
‘Oi, Kerr,’ Brodie says. ‘Next time you want to be a hero, give us a warning. I missed lunch with Charlie because of you.’
‘Piss off, MacRae. And…thank you.’
Then tyres crunch on gravel. A dark grey Range Rover Sport SV swings into the disabled bay, engine ticking. The laughter dies.
‘Oh, brilliant,’ Finn mutters. ‘The wanker cometh. Can I murder him? Just a little. As a treat.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘He’s mine.’
Nevin swings out of the driver’s seat, and a beige Chihuahua scrambles after him, claws scraping the tarmac. The wee dug sports a tartan coat and a collar studded with what might be actual diamonds. Nevin’s in sunglasses despite the flat, colourless sky. Fitted tracksuit. The bruise I left on his jaw must have healed, or he’s used a copious amount of concealer.
He spots me in the group without my kit bag. He does the maths and gets the wrong result.
Sliding his sunglasses up onto his forehead, he struts over. ‘Leaving, Kerr? About time. You’ve been stealing a wage in that starting fifteen for years.’
I peel away from the pack and put myself in his way.
Nevin halts, his eyes narrowing as he processes the scene. He still doesn’t get it. He thinks they’re watching me leave.
‘Aw, see that,’ Nevin sneers. ‘Guard of honour for the loser. Now you can go play full-time nursemaid to that mental case you picked up. Did she cry when she found out you’re unemployed? She’s good at crying.’
Fury takes hold inside me. Not the hot, blinding flash I felt in his flat. Nothing like the red mist. It chills the blood in my veins and funnels the world to a single aim.
The Chihuahua darts at Finn’s trainers, tiny teeth sinking into the sole.
‘Ow! Wee bastard.’ Finn shakes his foot. The dog hangs on, growling. ‘Neely, call off your adorable hell spawn.’
‘Corleone! Here!’ Nevin seems almost apologetic as the dog doesn’t stop chewing on Finn’s shoes. ‘Corleone doesn’t take orders. I’ve not had him long.’
Finn pries the dog off and sets it down with exaggerated gentleness. ‘You named your dog after a fictional mob boss? That’s peak bro culture.’
‘I didn’t name him.’ Nevin picks up the wee dog and lifts him into his arms. ‘He’s a rescue.’
I stalk towards Nevin without rushing, and he retreats a pace. ‘Get out of my face, Kerr.’
I stop a foot away from him and let my height do the work. I let the mass of me, the density of over a decade of collisions, occupy the space he thinks belongs to him.
‘I said back off!’ He shoves me with the arm that doesn’t clutch the Chihuahua.
I don’t move or rock back on my heels. There’s no force behind his shove because there’s no substance to him. I study him, and all anger vanishes. He’s a boy. A mean, frightened boy who breaks things because he’s scared someone will notice how small and afraid he feels.
‘You think you’re a hard man, Neely.’ My voice is so quiet that only he can hear me. ‘But you’re nothing but a bully. Someone bullied you once, didn’t they? Someone made you feel powerless. And now you have to do it to everyone else to make yourself feel better.’
Nevin opens his mouth. ‘Fuck off. You don’t know me.’
‘I know what you are.’ I bear down on him, invading his personal space until he has to crane his neck. ‘She didn’t leave because she was broken. She left because she finally saw you. Not a monster. Just a sad little man who has to hit women to feel tall.’
‘I never hit?—’
