Page 41 of Pitch Prince

“Done?” asked Rhys.

“Yeah. I’ve fucked up so many times, and rugby…it just isn’t helping. I’m on a downward spiral and I…” I noticed a tear leak from Finn’s eye, and he turned away from Rhys to wipe it away. “I need to go and find help. I need to be away from…all this.”

“…right.” Rhys pulled Finn in for a tight hug. “How can I help you to do that?”

I was a spare part for the next couple of hours as he and Finn worked over Finn’s plans. I made about twenty million cups of tea and ordered in some takeaway food as they discussed what came next. When we finally left and the light was fading outside, Rhys put one arm around me and hugged me halfheartedly.

“I remember when we were a Golden Trio,” he said. “Just me left now.”

“I’m sticking around,” I said. “I’m not going to let you down.”

But something inside me stirred, those stupid little feelings that had sprung up the night before. What if I wasn’t ready enough for Rhys? What if I couldn’t do the right thing like Finn, and face up to my fear?

As I looked into Rhys’ deep green eyes, I knew I had to do the right thing for him eventually. Whether that be standing proudly beside him, out and proud, or letting him go.

18

Chapter Eighteen - Rhys

My relationship with Callum was complicated. It always would be, I knew that. But I didn’t ever anticipate just how exhausting the travel could be during the rugby season. He had been commentating on a locum basis all around the country on the radio and TV, and with me playing matches almost every Saturday for Cardiff and training through the week, it felt harder and harder to keep any semblance of a steady relationship going. Travelling by train was time consuming and by air it was exhausting.

When we did see one another, it was still electric. Every time we touched I felt like I’d won the lottery. Every time he held my face in those big hands and kissed me, I wanted to never leave. But leave I did, every other week.

The sneaking around had started to grate on me too. I’d gone into the relationship with the knowledge that Callum wasn’t out of the closet yet but I had forgotten just how tough that could be. We’d become more reclusive, almost always sticking to our homes in case a too-kind fan or paparazzi noticed that I was travelling from Cardiff to Edinburgh on a monthly basis, and he to me in reverse.

That had been partially fixed, but also exacerbated by the next shitty situation we found ourselves in. I’d been picked to play for Wales again in the Autumn Internationals, a series of matches in Cardiff against the best of the rest of the world. A gruelling schedule of weekly matches against Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Argentina, Georgia and Fiji that took me out of regular action for Cardiff.

Because the training camp under Wesley was so intense, I was essentially confined to the Wales training hotel for six weeks. It was weird, having to room with George, a lovely winger with baby-face, rather than the company from Callum I’d gotten so used to. The training camp meant that Callum and I didn’t have a chance to meet throughout November and into the start of December. When Sarah took on extra shifts at work and Callum then looked after his kids for the first two weeks of December, I felt like screaming up into the universe. I needed to feel his touch to remember he was real.

Finally, midway through December, I waited at Cardiff Central Station for Callum’s train to come in. I was bouncing from foot to foot as I waited for him. I couldn’t wait to hold him again. So much so that when he passed through the turnstiles I ran toward him and pulled him into a hug. He hugged me back for just a second before breaking away. No-one seemed to be paying us any attention, so I gestured for him to follow me out of the station.

He was wrapped up in big black coat and dark beanie because of the December weather. I could see his Cardiff Old Navy scarf just poking out from the edges of his collar.

“How was the journey?” I asked.

“Fucking shite,” he laughed. “I wish I didn’t have to come down here all the time.”

My step faltered for a second as Callum realised what he’d said. “No, not like that…”

“No, no. I get it.” And I did. It just felt like Callum was worth the effort. I worried that at some point he’d feel like I wasn’t worth the effort any more.

I shivered and blew warm air into my gloves, but my fingers were like icicles as we walked down Cardiff’s St Mary Street. “Fancy a pint?” I asked.

“I’d love one,” he said. We ducked into a nearby bar and sat in a shady table in the corner. He pulled off his hat, and his hair stuck up in every direction underneath.

“Cute,” I said. I reached forward and rearranged his mussed up hair, pulling back when I noticed he’d frozen up.

“Sorry,” I said.

“No. No worries.” Silence fell between us again. “I’ll get us a pint.” He walked over to the bar, leaving me alone with my thoughts in the booth for a minute.

I hated not being able to show him affection at all when there might be people around. I knew I should have taken him straight to the flat where I could touch him all I liked, but having spent six weeks secluded in the training camp I wanted nothing more than to have a pint in the company of people. And it was starting to rankle, just a little bit, having to be so completely chaste around him when we were out and about. After weeks of not seeing one another I wanted to hold his hand, to give him a peck on the cheek in public. It felt sometimes like we were holding ourselves back from the things evenfriendsmight do out of fear of being seen as something more.

I thanked him as he put a pint of my favourite beer in front of me. “How’s Finn?” he asked.

“He’s good, I think. I’ve kept in contact via text and call. He’s living back in the Valleys in his gran’s old house.”

“Wow.” One of the titans of Welsh rugby, ending his career living in the back of beyond was a shock to anyone. But for Callum, who’d kept up his integrity for so long, it must have been unfathomable that someone could crash and burn so hard.

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