Rory
I don’t wait. Not this time. Training finishes, I shower, barely listen to whatever Scott’s saying about drills and tactics and the championship game, grab my bag and leave before anyone can drag me into anything else. Because none of that matters right now. Not when I know something’s wrong and I finally have a pretty good idea what it is.
The drive back feels longer than it should. My fingers tap against the steering wheel, my jaw tight, my head running through it over and over again. The ball. Sienna. The bracelet. Shit. It must be that. She must have seen something. And it must look bad. Worse than bad.
I pull into the cul-de-sac and kill the engine, sitting there for a second, staring at her house. I grab the small box from the passenger seat. The bracelet. I’d imagined giving it to her differently. Not like this. Not as damage control. But it doesn’t matter. I just need her to understand.
I walk up to her door and knock, nerves running through me. There’s a pause then the door opens. Freya stands there in joggers and an oversized jumper, hair pulled up messily, her face tired, her eyes puffy.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
Her voice is polite. Too polite.
“Can I come in?”
She hesitates for half a second. Then steps back. “Yeah.”
She looks equally as nervous as I feel.
I step inside, closing the door behind me softly, the familiar warmth of her house wrapping around me, but it feels different tonight. Colder. We stand in the hallway for a second. Neither of us moving.
“I think we need to talk,” I say.
“Yeah,” she replies quietly. “We do.”
She walks into the living room and I follow, my pulse hammering in my throat the closer we get to whatever this is about to be. She turns to face me. Arms folded. Holding herself together.
“Say it,” she says.
I frown slightly. “Say what?”
“The truth.”
“The truth about what?”
“Rory.” Her voice cracks slightly and then hardens again. “I saw it.”
There it is. I exhale slowly. “A photo?”
“Yes, a photo, well, a video.” She says, a small, humourless laugh escaping her. “You. Her. The bracelet.”
I take a step closer. “Freya… I”
“No,” she cuts in quickly, shaking her head. “No, don’t.”
Her eyes are bright now but I can see she’s holding back tears.
“I knew I couldn’t compete with her, Rory,” she says, her voice quieter and shakier now. “I just didn’t expect you to prove me right so quickly.”
Fuck. Hearing that kills me.
“Freya, that’s not…”
“Isn’t it?” she interrupts. “Because it looked pretty clear to me.”
“It’s not what you think.”
