Page 47 of Pitch Prince

Chapter Twenty-Two - Rhys

It was New Year’s Day, and Cardiff Old Navy were in Edinburgh for the rugby. I loved the city normally, but I had walked straight from the team bus to the hotel, slept the night and stepped back onto the team bus to take me to the stadium. I was glad Callum had retired, because the thought of seeing his face was…not good. I had been holding it together for three weeks admirably but I wasn’t about to let seeing him break that composure.

So what if I had actually bought goldfish? The tank was a nice addition to the flat and their personalisedDon’t Jump Off The Balconyornament had gone down so badly with my mother that she’d stayed on the sofa for two nights afterwards to keep an eye on me. I was surprised she hadn’t stolen the keys to my balcony door.

But I’d made it through a couple of matches, then Christmas and now the trip to Edinburgh without crying at anyone. Which was good, because in my private moments I was a fuckingmess.

Edinburgh’s home stadium was a little bigger than the Arms Park and the changing rooms definitely smelled nicer. We all got a pep talk off the boss before running out on the pitch to cheers from the Cardiff fans who had travelled all the way up to watch us play.

The game was a subdued one - the post-Christmas games often were and the stadium wasn’t full to bursting like it would be at the very start of the season and for the final. A narrow loss to Edinburgh Thistle was enough to add to my already foul mood. When everyone else had left the changing room, I was still showering. The kit boys would be around later to wash the kits but in the moment I was by myself. And I needed that.

I let the searing hot spray turn my skin red as I stood underneath. I’d been at the gym every day since Callum and I had called it quits, and my body was feeling tight. I closed my eyes for a second, just allowing myself to imagine his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the sides with crow’s feet when he laughed.

And that deep, Scottish brogue saying, “I’m sorry.”

My eyes snapped open. Because that hadn’t been in my imagination. In front of me, stood in the archway between the shower blocks and the changing rooms, was Callum. He was wearing his Cardiff Old Navy scarf and that big black coat, and twiddling a small box wrapped in gold between his two palms. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

My heart was pounding in my chest at the earnest way he said it, the way he looked at me with sadness in those big beautiful eyes. I wanted to tell him it was all OK, that I could forgive him. But for what?

“For what?” I echoed my thoughts.

“For…everything. For breaking your heart. I don’t know why I did it, now. I wish I’d just…I wish I’d been more of a coward. I wish I’d been selfish, and put my own feelings first. Being without youhurts.”

I knew it hurt. I hurt. But I knew that the last couple of weeks standing as strong as I could could not be for nothing. I couldn’t go through that intense, heart-rending pain that the moment of losing him had given me. “Well, it’s too late, isn’t it?” I said. “You’ve done it now. And it’s not exactly the kind of thing you can take back.”

I turned the shower tap off, then stepped around him and into the changing room. I was doing my best to keep my face impassive as I did. He didn’t deserve my emotion.

I dried off and got dressed as quickly as I could, aware of his eyes on my back the whole time. Once I was fully dressed and my kit had been thrown into the corner with everyone else’s, I turned back to face Callum. He had taken a step closer to me whilst my back was turned, and I looked up into his eyes.

“What do you want from this?” I asked. “Want us to go back to how we were? Sneaking around, just like you said you couldn’t let me do any more? Or would you rather actually come out with it all?”

Callum was silent but I watched a tear escape from one eye. I took a step closer to him so we were within touching distance. I hated hurting him, but he had been right. Him not coming out would hurt me in the long run, no matter how I felt. I held out one hand, and he reached for it, but I pulled back before could touch me.

“Really think about this,” I said, then nodded at the closed door to the changing rooms. “If someone walks right through that door right now, a match official, referee, player or coach. Would you be happy caught holding hands with me?”

After a moment of hesitation Callum withdrew his hand. “No,” he said. “And I hate myself for that. It’s my dream to hold hands with you in public. To kiss you on the rugby pitch with everyone watching. But that’s all it is. A dream. I don’t know that I can ever give you that.”

“And why is that? You trying to shield yourself from scrutiny? From not looking like the Gentleman of Rugby?”

“No…my…my kids,” he said. I could see I was breaking him and every word out of my mouth felt so painful but so necessary.

“Tell me now, if Logan or Olivia came out tomorrow, would you want them to live out and proud? Or would you expect them to hide too? Because you don’t have to come out, Cal. No one can make you. But if you’re worried about setting an example for your kids? Then hiding is the wrong answer. Now, if we’re done…I have to go. Please don’t do this to me again.”

A hand reached out and grabbed my arm. I turned to face him. In his other hand, he held the little wrapped box. “For Christmas,” he said. “I…I need you to have it.”

I took the gift gingerly like it could burn me, and ran from the changing room before he could see me lose it. I hated that I had come round to Callum’s logic just as he decided it didn’t matter. We were like two broken clocks, never quite on the right time as one another. Never quite ticking at the same pace. And as much as I felt like my heart was going to rip itself out of my chest and run back to him. I forged onwards.

The team bus sat silent and dark in the car park as the team had decided to head to the nearest rugby club for a commiserating pint. I walked through Edinburgh’s cold, brisk night to the hotel. The wrapped box felt cold in my hand and I was half-tempted to throw it away before I could look at it. Surely I should, to avoid the inevitable heartbreak when I was reminded of just how thoughtful Callum could be?

I opened my room door with one shaking swipe of the card on the reader and then walked slowly over to the bed. I sat down on it, and held the present out in front of me. I could leave it and never know exactly what it held. What was worse? Never knowing what Callum’s last gift to me was, never getting the closure? Or the heartbreak of that very same closure?

I pulled apart the wrapping. Inside was a small black jewellery box and my heart leapt out of my chest as I considered the possibility that it might be a ring. But Callum wasn’t the kind of guy to rub this in my face…was he? Was he so desperate to take me back that he would apologise even as I was dissecting our relationship in a gruesome post-mortem?

Hands hardly able to hold onto the box, I opened it at the hinge and brought one hand to my mouth. Inside the box and nestled in velvet was a necklace, a simple thick gold chain with two tiny jewelled ornaments threaded on. A tiny sapphire-tinted ship and an amethyst flower. A Navy vessel and a thistle. Our two teams, entwined on the very same necklace.

I resisted the urge to throw the whole thing away. It was thoughtful, kind and so completely Callum.

I took off my hoodie and jeans, my shoes and socks, and placed them all on the floor next to my bed. I took the necklace from its box and clasped it around my neck before laying down in bed, reaching for the switch to turn off the lights.

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