Page 79 of The Player in New Zealand
“He came by the apartment one weekend....”
Oh. My. God.
“How could you?” I fumed, kicking a keg this time. It clanged against the ones next to it, and the empty kegs reverberated.
“Claire, I—”
I hung up the phone, seeing red. It was so much easier to be angry with Iris than angry with Devon. I really wanted to be angry with Devon, not scared or freezing up, but truly angry. But my body wouldn’t let me. Instead I could focus on Iris.
My phone buzzed in my hand, a call from her, and I hit ignore. It buzzed again, and instead of just ignoring it, I powered down my phone. Tane knew where I was. He’d find me.
I paced the room while waiting, chewing on my fingernail. Devon had known to come here, not to Wellington, so he must have stopped by my sister’s recently. Maybe she hadn’t told him. Maybe she’d made some offhand comment that had given him a clue. Or maybe he’d found some clue online. What if I’d been photographed with Tane somewhere? People were always asking him for pictures or autographs. I’d never really thought about the possibility of me being in the background. But how would Devon have even known where to start to look? Who in America even follows New Zealand rugby?
The door opened and I spun, panicked that my thoughts had conjured up Devon. But it was Tane, and behind him was Erin.
“She’s fine.” Erin breathed a sigh of relief.
Tane stepped into the room and turned around. “Go away,” he said before slamming the door.
Two steps and I leaped at him. Thank God, Tane caught me and wrapped me up in his arms. I bawled like a big baby while Tane comforted me.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped through my tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He squeezed me tight into his chest and even though I couldn’t breathe all that deeply, I didn’t care.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Claire.” One of his hands stroked the top of my head, soothing me. “It’s okay to be scared and angry and a whole bunch of emotions right now.”
I hiccupped and pulled back, face-to-face with Tane. “I don’t understand why I’m like this, though. How come I can do something like get up in your face and tell you off but I can’t do it with Devon? I want to be angry with him.”
“I know. We’ll figure it out. But for now let’s get you out of this room, okay?” He carefully leaned down to set my feet on the floor.
“Where are we going to go?” Tane heard the quaver in my voice and threaded his fingers through mine.
“First, we’re going to go out to the bar and see if he’s still here. I want you to point him out to me if he is, okay?”
“What are you going to do?”
Tane didn’t answer, and instead pulled open the door and gestured me ahead. I wove my way back through the bowels of the restaurant and out to the door leading to the floor. I opened it, darting my eyes over to the bar and then ducking my head back in.
“He’s not there anymore.”
Tane pushed the door open and squeezed my hand. “Let’s check the whole place out. Come on, I’m here with you.”
One of the servers was coming in with a tray of dirty dishes, but when they saw Tane blocking the entrance, their eyes widened and they backed up.
With Tane’s hand in mine, I felt more courageous and I picked my way around the restaurant, inspecting faces but turning up empty.
An odd sense of deflation hit me. He was gone.
Erin, in her black suit and heels, was walking at a quick clip toward us. “Mr. Taumata,” she said, customer-service face on. “Is everything okay?” I didn’t know what Tane had told her, but her eyes darted to our joined hands.
Tane ignored her, leaning toward me and meeting my eye. “When’s your next shift here?”
His eyes grew sympathetic, no doubt a reaction to the dread that flooded my face. “Never is okay, if you want. We will figure something out.”
I shook my head, resolute. “I work tomorrow. I have to get back to it. I’m really sorry about today, Erin.”
Erin’s face tightened before she schooled it down. Bitterness flooded my mouth when I remembered similar looks on the faces of my previous bosses. No one wanted to have a problem employee, even if the problem was someone else.
