Page 76 of We Were Never Lovers
Ur flirting sucks almost as bad as ur form.
Jack laughed, his heart soaring—were they flirting? He wanted to ask, but he got the sense the only way to keep Sean talking was to keep it light.
And ur flirting game is any better?He hit send before he could second-guess himself.
Sean didn’t reply. Jack waited. He knew he’d said the wrong thing. He lay back down after a while but didn’t sleep, ears attuned to the ding of his phone, which he’d taken off do not disturb mode for Sean. It was off for his sisters, but he’d added Sean after the first message. He didn’t mind if Sean woke him up, wished he would.
It was almost midnight when his phone pinged.
Dunno, u tell me, reckon there were two of us in the locker room.
And Sean couldn’t have knocked the wind out of him more if he’d tried.
27
Sean watched with amixture of frustration and rage as Jack’s play got progressively worse after Sean’s meeting. He went a month without even scoring a point. He was slow off the centre bounce, and back to a space cadet when he was in front of goals. Sean could snap him out of it if he was on the field—hurl abuse at him until Jack got his shit together as if in defiance of Sean’s insults but, it’d always seemed to Sean, more because he was actually listening to him.
Now though Sean had to wait until they got home and unlike before, Jack wasn’t tensing up waiting for it, he was just moping around, cuddling Lola more, looking at Sean like he was trying to memorise him.
“Nothin’s set in stone yet,” Sean said to him one night. He was itching to fuck, but with Jack’s current mood that wasn’t going to happen.
“No, I know,” Jack said and got up off the floor from where he’d been wrestling with Lola for her rope. He smiled, but itdidn’t touch his eyes. “But you’ve already made your decision, so,” he shrugged and went to go down the hall.
He was acting as if Sean had already left and it pissed him off. And this was without Sean telling him about the email he’d gotten from management. A legal document the size of a phonebook, Warren had told him it was basically a new contract absolving the club and the league of further liability if he continued to play and an email urging him to seriously consider medically retiring. His agent had explained he’d still receive the next two years on his contract—they’d buy him out if they had to—but warned if he decided to play, it could be a hostile work environment.
“It’d be great if you could just get your memories back,” he’d joked, “then the whole thing would go away.”
Sean rolled his eyes. “No shit.” As if he had any control over it.
He didn’t tell Jack any of this—he didn’t need further maudlin behaviour invading the house. But he did tell Jayden, who was both pleased at the idea of Sean coming home and working with him, and gutted for him because he knew exactly what this felt like.
He got up and made his way to Jack’s bedroom.
Jack was sitting up against his headboard, one knee up, his other leg stretched out long, his socked foot flexing and straightening. The lamp was on, casting his eyes in shadows, making his cheekbones more pronounced. He didn’t even bother to flick his eyes up from his phone, but twitched like he knew Sean was there.
Sean didn’t know what to say. Anger had been his go-to with Jack for years, but that hadn’t felt right for months. Consoling him was foreign territory too, and he knew Jack would probably take some sick, twisted pleasure in having his game berated at the moment and Sean didn’t want to play that game right now.
So, instead he said, “Birthday tomorrow,” and leaned against the doorframe. August 3rd. Sean had asked Annie the last time she was over; he’d felt embarrassed to be asking, but she’d brushed that off with a warm smile and told him like it was nothing.
Jack did glance up then, surprised.
“What?” Sean asked, smiling smugly. “Did ya think I’d forget?”
Jack looked like he didn’t know whether to smile or frown. “Well, yeah,” he replied after a moment.
Sean snorted. “To tell ya the truth, I knew it was on one of the coldest days, but got Annie to remind me of the date.”
Jack nodded, picked at the material of his pants on his bent knee. “Nothin’ special about this one.”
“Stop bein’ such a fuckin’ sad sack,” Sean pushed out of the doorframe and came over to him, took a seat at the end of the bed. “I already got ya a present, organised a dinner. So ya better fuckin’ smile and act like ya havin’ a good time, alright?”
Jack smiled down at his hand. “You didn’t have to do that. Besides…”
Sean grabbed his ankle, shook it. “Besides what?”
Jack exhaled, but still wouldn’t look at him. “Besides, you can’t give me what I want, so.”
Sean tightened his grip. If Jack wanted Sean to get his memories back, then no, he couldn’t give him that. But if Jack wanted to get laid, Sean was willing and open. He didn’t see himself getting laid much once he was back home. The thought of fucking anyone other than Jack filled him with dread anyway.
