“No, they don’t give out their schedules to avoid any attempts at any potential bribery or match fixing.” He levels a glare at each of us, but it feels even heavier when it lands on me. “It goes without saying that you should be playing to the best of your ability at every match, but if you want to be considered for the National Team, there can be no mistakes in the coming events. Do whatever the fuck you need to do to stay focused, and don’t embarrass me.”
“It’s like a warm hug,” Myles whispers next to me, making me snort.
“I’m not taking the piss. Your futures are riding on impressing these scouts.” He pointedly looks at me, face stoic, and I sober immediately. “Today was an improvement, but that needs to extend beyond the practice field. Keep your game sharp and your name out of the tabloids. The blokes watching are a conservative bunch, and they don’t like their players being liabilities. No drama on or off the pitch, you hear?” He looks around at everyone nodding their agreement—all but Davies, who’s rolling his eyes and scratching his balls until Cavan slaps him on the back of the head.
When Coach Ballard leaves, the rest of the players split off, some leaving to go home and some heading to the showers.
I take a seat on the bench in front of my cabinet, Cavan to my left and Myles settling in on the seat opposite.
I’m unlacing my boots, feet sore, when Cav speaks. “How’s your mum, Myles?” His voice is soft, so at odds with his gruff exterior.
Our friend hangs his head low, the stress visibly weighing on his shoulders. “The tests we’ve done so far have been inconclusive, but,” he pauses, and anxiety builds in my chest, “one doctor mentioned cancer.”
“Fuck,” I say, at a loss for words. “How is Candice handling that?”
“She’s carrying on as if we didn’t just have a two ton possibility dropped on our shoulders.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I know it’s because she’s trying not to worry the kids, but I can’t be the only one freaking out.”
“Just one mentioned it could be cancer? Did they say what kind?” Cavan asks.
“No, but she’s due for more tests this week, and it should give us a better idea if it is or not.”
“What can we do?” I feel helpless, thinking about how Myles must be feeling in comparison, knowing he’s carrying the emotional and financial weight so his mum and siblings don’t have to.
“Nothing. It’s a waiting game, honestly. Aanya and I are going up to Manchester later this week to help.”
My eyebrows raise into my hairline. “Oh? Already taking the missus to meet the family?”
The soft smile that lights up my friend's face is positively smitten. “She’s already met them, actually,” he admits.
“Really?” Cavan asks, also clearly surprised. We’ve both known Myles for a long time and have never known him to take a girl home to meet his family. “So it’s serious?”
“I’m going to marry her.” He says the statement with his whole chest, not an ounce of hesitation or trace of uncertainty. “I knew the second I laid eyes on her. Everything else melted away. She’s it for me.”
His words have amber eyes, one with a fire bright spot of blue, coming to the forefront of my mind. The way he’s describing how he felt meeting Aanya is the way I felt when I first saw Jade, and a lump forms in my throat.
Fuck, I want to see her.
I miss her with a fierce, persistent ache in my chest. That ache makes me feel a little crazy, though. How can I miss someone so much when I only just saw her the day before? When we had only just sort of accepted what weare to each other? I never felt this way with Olivia, and I was with her for a year.
As if my longing conjured her, a text from Jade lights up my phone.
Hellfire
I booked us an activity this time.
It’s for Sunday. Are you busy?
I had dinner with the family in the evening, but I would blow it off if it meant getting to spend time with her again, especially since this time, she’s the one initiating the date. She’s choosing this. She’s choosing us.
Tieran
I’ve got a couples massage with Mrs. Cline, but I think I can get her to agree to a throuple situation if you’re up for it.
Hellfire
You know damn well she wouldn’t let me through the door.
I’ll butter her up.
