Page 5 of Sweet Rucking Temptation
"Bloody hell," I mutter, watching my teammates sprint across the field. Stupid knee. I should be out there with them. They're a blur of black and red, moving with a fluid grace I used to take for granted. Now? I feel about as graceful as a newborn calf.
Coach's whistle pierces the air, and I flinch. Should be out there. Need to be out there. The doubts creep in, as sneaky as the autumn chill. What if I can't come back from this? What if?—
"Oi, Iceman! You're looking proper miserable, mate."
I look up to see my brother Oscar sauntering over, his easy grin a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me.
"Piss off," I grumble, but there's no real heat behind it.
Oscar plops down beside me, stretching his legs out. "Now, now. Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?"
"What would Leo say, you muppet."
He clutches his chest in mock horror. "And here I thought I'd won that title fair and square! I’ll have to fight Leo for it. Next you'll be telling me Mum's meat pies aren't the best in all of Canterbury."
Despite myself, I snort. "Don't let her hear you say that. She'd have your guts for garters."
Oscar's laugh is warm, like sunshine breaking through clouds. "There he is! Knew my surly little brother was in there somewhere."
I roll my eyes, but I can feel the tension in my shoulders easing a fraction. "Yeah, yeah. What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be decompressing?"
"Nah," Oscar says, leaning back on his hands. "Thought I'd come see how my superstar brother is getting on. Though..." He eyes my propped-up leg. "Seems I might've missed the show."
I grunt, a fresh wave of frustration washing over me. "Some show. I'm about as useful as a blunt knife right now.It’s infuriating. Half an hour ago, I was at the top of my game. Asingle wrong fucking step, though, and I’m done for the day.” I shook my head. “Doesn’t take much to make me crumple these days.”
Oscar's quiet for a moment, his usual joviality fading into something more serious. "You know, El," he says softly, "it's okay to not be okay sometimes."
I bristle. "I'm fine."
"Sure you are. And I'm the bloody Queen of England."
I want to snap at him, tell him to mind his own business. But when I look at Oscar, all I see is genuine concern in those hazel eyes so like our mum's.
I deflate, suddenly bone-weary. "What if... what if I can't come back from this, Oz? What if this is it?"
Oscar's hand lands on my shoulder, warm and steady. "Then you'll find something else to be brilliant at. But let's not write off your career just yet, yeah? You're Elliott bloody Snow. If anyone can come back from this, it's you."
I swallow hard, fighting against the lump in my throat. "When did you get so wise, big brother?"
He grins, the serious moment passing like a cloud. "Must be all the cheese. Does wonders for the brain cells."
I laugh, surprised by how good it feels. "You're full of it, you know that?"
"Yep," he says cheerfully. "But you love me anyway."
As we sit there, watching the team wrap up practice, I feel something loosen in my chest. The doubts are still there, lurking. But with Oscar by my side, they don't seem quite so overwhelming.
Maybe, just maybe, I can get through this after all.
The grass is damp beneath my boots as I jog back onto the field. My teammates glance over, surprise evident on their faces.
"Oi, Snow!" Josh calls out. "Thought you were sitting this one out?"
I grit my teeth, pushing down the flare of pain in my shoulder. "Change of plans. I'm good to go."
Coach Finnegan frowns. "You sure about this, Elliott? No one's expecting you to push yourself too hard, too fast."
"I'm sure," I say, meeting his gaze steadily. The doubt in his eyes only fuels my determination. I'll show them all. I have to.
