Page 27 of Ace My Heart

Joel leaned down to kiss his mother on the forehead. “Thanks, Mum. Hey Stink, let’s go inside where you can elevate that ankle properly, and we can talk about your rehab.”

I rolled my eyes but took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. I reached for my crutches and tucked them under my arms, striking out towards the house.

When I reached the stairs, I stopped. Going up stairs was difficult on my crutches. Seeing my expression Joel’s lips twitched, and in a single smooth movement, he snatched the crutches from me and swept me off my feet – literally, not in the romance novel sense, of course – carrying me up to the living room.

“What was that for?” I asked as he put me down, wishing my face wasn’t on fire. “Your‘hero rescues the damsel’act isn’t going to work on me.”

He grinned at me, and again I noticed how it didn’t reach his eyes. “Isn’t it, Stink? I think it already has and you’re just in denial.”

I snatched my crutches back from him indignantly and hobbled my way over to the white leather sofa, plonking myself down and swinging my legs up onto the lounge. Joel tucked a couple of cushions under my foot before heading for the kitchen. The fridgeopened and the blender whizzed. I watched an oddly phallic cloud formation steam across the sky, and by the time it disappeared Joel was at my elbow, handing me a green smoothie.

“Don’t spill that on the lounge or Mum will have me flogged!” he warned before settling his towel-clad butt on the floor. I took a sip – it was surprisingly delicious.

“How are you holding up?” I asked.

His eyes flashed with the pain that he had been hiding so well earlier. “Barely, to be honest. I’m just so glad that Mum wasn’t there to see … She’s being so strong, but I know it’s draining. It’s good to have Aunty Dianne and the kids here to distract her.”

I didn’t miss how he talked about his mother rather than about himself. Typical male, avoiding talking about his own feelings.

Although I guessed I was just as guilty of that as he was.

“When’s the funeral?” I asked.

“They’re doing an autopsy today, so once they’re satisfied with that, they’ll release him. We’re working around Friday.”

We lapsed into silence again.

“The police came by my house this morning,” I said quietly, breaking the silence. Joel looked at me sharply.

“Why?”

I fiddled with the hem of my dress. “Apparently my alibi didn’t match up. Pete-The-Arsehole-Levine denied that I spent the night with him.”

Joel’s jaw dropped. “Why would he do that?”

I shrugged. “Embarrassed maybe? I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him and I don’t want to.”

I felt the tears prickle at my eyes again, and I blinked them determinedly back. I had too many emotions about too many different things swirling in my head – Steve, Pete, my injury – that if I let those tears out, I was worried they would never stop.

“Why would anyone be embarrassed about …” Joel trailed off. I hazarded a glance at him, but he was looking in the other direction.

“Well, I have nothing further to tell the police. If they want to question anyone further, it better be Pete.”

Joel grunted. “Well, good for you, Stink,” he said, “So, once thisis all over and done with – the funeral, and your injury and all – are you going to look for a new coach?”

I looked down at my hands, twisting in my lap. “I don’t know, Joel. Obviously, I’ll need someone. But I can’t think about it yet.”

“I was thinking … maybe … if you want to, that is … you could consider letting me coach you. I mean, Dad taught me everything he knows … knew … and I know your game back to front. I know your strengths and weaknesses, and … I just wanted to put my hat in the ring.”

It did make sense, in a strange way.

“Let’s just see how you go getting me back to match fitness, okay? Then we can discuss it.” Great answer, Mel. Noncommittal but perfectly reasonable.

“Fair enough, Stinky. Now on that subject, I’ve put together a fitness and rehab plan …”

For the rest of the afternoon we put aside the fact that he was fatherless, and I was coachless, and we put aside the fact that ninety-nine percent of the time he drove me insane, and we worked out how to get me back on the court.

CHAPTER SEVEN

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