Page 208 of Off the Pitch

“I’m sorry,” I said, not bothering to lie. It was too late for that. “I just… I was still working things out. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t believe you? Or accept you? Have you totally forgotten about Christian? Or Hugo? Did you not trust me?” His voice was cracked and cold, like a frozen river.

“Mate, no. No. Nothing like that at all,” I said. I reached out for him, but he brushed my hand away. It felt like my heart was being crushed. I hadn’t wanted this to happen. Shit, what had I done? “I just needed some time to figure things out, and you’ve been so busy.” I knew as soon as I said it that it was the wrong thing. Liam flinched.

“I’ve always got time for you. I thought you knew that.” He turned away. “Tell your nan I’ll come to see her tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

“Liam, wait,” I called, but he ignored me and just kept walking down the corridor.

Chapter Fourteen

#meetthefamily

Félix

I was wrong. This was by far the most awkward situation I’d been in.

I’d had my doubts when Jordan said he wanted to introduce me to Liam and his dad because this didn’t feel like the most appropriate moment to do it. After all, he was here because his grandmother had had a stroke. That wasn’t usually the situation to waltz up with some guy you were fucking.

All I’d intended to do was drop the food and the flowers off and then head back to the hotel, but when Jordan had asked me to come up, I couldn’t say no. There was worry and hurt etched into his expression, and I couldn’t bear to add to it. I wanted to do everything I could to take his pain away or at least ease it.

As I’d predicted, I hadn’t been able to stop talking to Jordan while I was away. I hadn’t even been able to stop thinking about him. Every day I’d seen something that had reminded me of him or that I’d wanted to share with him—little anecdotes I’d heard, sights I’d seen, thoughts I’d had. It was as if Jordan had glued himself to my brain, and I couldn’t shake him no matter how hard I tried.

Although, if I was being honest with myself, I’d stopped trying after a week. After that, I’d just accepted the inevitable. I wasn’t ready to put a name to what was going on. I wasn’t even ready to accept thatsomethingwas happening. I just knew it was, and it all revolved around this man.

“Are you okay?” I asked, even though it was quite obvious he wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he said, looking utterly deflated. “I didn’t think he’d take it like that.” Jordan sighed. “Fuck!”

“It’s okay.” I reached out and pulled him into a hug, careful not to crush the flowers. “Just give him some space, and he’ll calm down.” There was a question niggling at me about Christian and Hugo based on what Liam had said, but I didn’t think now was the time to ask it. But maybe I’d been wrong when I’d thought there weren’t any players out to their clubs. From the sound of it, there might be two.

“Yeah,” Jordan said. “Was I the asshole here? Should I have told him?”

“I don’t think so.” I shrugged. “I mean, you may be best friends, but you don’t have to tell him everything. Then again, I’m the worst person to ask for advice. If you listen to me, you often get things thrown at you. Or you get arrested for public indecency.”

“Remind me to ask you about that sometime.” Jordan chuckled and shook his head. “Oh well, better get this over with. It can’t get any worse I suppose.”

“Do you want me to wait here?”

“Nah. I mean, if you’re okay with it, can you come too?”

“Sure.” I followed him through the doors to the ward, attempting to hide my nerves. I wasn’t usually fussed about meeting people, but this felt different.

Jordan knocked on the door to a side room before sticking his head around the door. He was still clutching the bouquet of roses, and I was pleased he liked them. “Hey, can I come in? I’ve got someone with me.” A deep voice spoke on the other side of the door, and Jordan beckoned me inside with a smile. We stepped into a small but well-lit hospital room with a bed in the centre and a large window across one wall.

“How’re you feeling, Nan?” Jordan asked, a relieved smile across his face as he approached the woman in the bed. She was sitting up, looking almost cross, although she smiled when she saw him.

“I’m fine,” she said, accepting Jordan’s half hug. “I honestly don’t see why I need to be here. I feel fine.”

“Mum, you had a stroke,” said a man who sat in a nearby chair. He sounded almost exasperated, as if he’d already had this argument several times but knew he wasn’t going to win. “You have to stay here until at least tomorrow so the doctors can keep an eye on you.” He looked like a taller, older version of Jordan with smiling eyes and a full mouth quirked in amusement. He looked at me and then at Jordan several times, an eyebrow half-raised.

“The doctors have got better things to do than worry about me. I’m not dying, Isaac,” argued Jordan’s grandmother.

“Nan,” Jordan said quickly, clearly attempting to change the subject. He held out the roses. “These are for you. And this is my friend Félix.” Mrs. Green’s face lit up as she examined the flowers, an almost incredulous smile on her face.

“Oh my, they’re beautiful,” she said. “Aren’t you lovely? Did you get these?”

“No, Félix did.”

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