Page 26 of Playing for Possession
The boy twisted around and proudly displayed his Real Madrid jersey.
Kieran nodded his approval. “Number ten. Looks better on this kid than it ever did on me.”
Kieran spoke to the boy in Spanish, and whatever he said had the little boy nodding and laughing.
Kieran glanced at me. “Mateo wants me to do a special move for him next time I score a goal.”
Kieran inclined his head to me. “Esta es mi amiga, Joanie.”
I said the only word in Spanish I’d gathered so far. “Hola, Mateo.”
Mateo fired off a rapid stream of excited words at Kieran. The boy shuffled his feet from left to right and pointed to the ceiling with an elaborate flourish.
Kieran nodded and copied the move exactly. “¿Sí?”
The boy raised an eyebrow and shook his head.
Kieran repeated the move. “Better? I’ve got to get this right. ¿Mejor? Tengo que hacerlo bien.”
Mateo nodded. His smile was shy as he replied in English. “Better.”
Kieran gave a satisfied nod. The two conversed a little more in Spanish before Kieran dropped down to pose for a selfie and give the boy a hug.
“Good lad,” he said, patting his back.
A couple more people drifted over, and it wasn’t long before a crowd of eager patients gathered around him, each vying for a moment of his consideration. Kieran met the attention with a self-effacing charm and grace I hadn’t imagined him capable of. He’d been the same way with the wedding party yesterday. He was warm and down-to-earth, and while this man didn’t smile, somehow hestill conveyed focus and sincerity with his expressive dark eyes. If he was ruffled or impatient with the attention, it was never evident.
This was the kind of effortless social confidence I’d always envied. My dad was the same way. It was a gift. He spoke to everyone as though they were the most important person he’d ever met. Kieran dropped to his knees to talk to a little girl in a wheelchair. Her face filled with delight as he engaged her in conversation and posed for selfies. Her giggles echoed across the waiting room.
Even if I could have spoken the language, I’d have felt awkward. It was a relief that I couldn’t. At least here I had an excuse to hang back. This kind of thing always made me tongue-tied, and the feeling had only got worse since the injury. The tang of disinfectant in the air brought all the painful memories back. Hours spent staring at tower blocks from the window on the ward, wondering when I’d ever play again. I’d never been so helpless. Every twinge in my knee felt like doom. So much fear. After two surgeries, I’d have been glad never to set foot in a hospital again.
At the other side of the waiting room, Kieran engaged in a game of peekaboo with a toddler in her mother’s arms. Peekaboo! The man who couldn’t even crack a smile for me. The mother passed the laughing toddler into Kieran’s arms, and Kieran spun the child effortlessly in the air. He was rewarded with squeals of delight.
Did the sight of Kieran Earnshaw melting a pudgy toddler into giggles make my ovaries twitch? Yes. Did I hate that for me? Also, yes. But I couldn’t help but swoon. In this one unguarded moment, stone-cold Kieran Earnshaw looked hot enough to trigger a heatwave. It was... unexpected. Shame rushed through me. Had I been too quick to judge him? Was there a good guy under those scowls and tattoos?
“The futbol player is your boyfriend? He is very handsome.”
The accented voice came from an elderly gray-haired woman who sat in a wheelchair next to me. She wore a curious expression, but her tone was bright and friendly.
“Kieran?” A strange, awkward laugh escaped me. “Gosh. No. He’s not. We work together. I’m a footballer, too.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose. “¿Sí? Maravillosa. Wonderful. You play in Spain?”
“No. In England. I haven’t played for a while. Knee injury.”
She nodded and gestured to her leg, which was encased in a stiff blue cast. “I had a fall a couple of weeks ago. They put me in this chair.” She frowned. “Sorry, my English is not good.”
Her English was amazing, and a million times better than my Spanish. “I’m sorry to hear about the fall. Your English is perfect.”
“The worst part is the time I am missing with my grandchildren.” She leaned in and her eyes sparkled. “My eldest lives in Australia. As soon as I am out of this chair, I’m going to visit. I like to swim, and snorkel. My youngest is in New York. She’s going to take me to a Broadway show. Life is too short to sulk and feel bad for yourself. Better to focus on the positive. Don’t you think?”
I smothered my sigh. Stay positive. That’s all Dad ever banged on about. Sometimes Ollie, too. I tried, but it wasn’t easy. There was so much uncertainty. Maybe I’d never get my fitness back to where it needed to be. Maybe the tear had weakened my knee forever, and it would injure again. Running onto the pitch had been the most exciting thing in the world, but now it felt like stepping onto quicksand, waiting to be sucked into an abyss.
I could stay positive in the day, but at night it was just me and the doubts that plagued me. The future filled me with anxiety where once I’d had enthusiasm.
I kept my voice low. “It’s been hard to stay positive. I’ve missed so much because of the injury. I feel like I’ve lost...”
This was a stranger in a waiting room. I shouldn’t have been telling her any of this. I hadn’t even been this open with the expensive therapist that Dad had arranged for me. But somehow it was easier to be honest with a kind stranger. The noise and bustle of the waiting room rushed into the silence between us, and I felt suddenly guilty. I was still walking around. This woman was in a wheelchair. My whining probably annoyed her.
