Page 83 of Blindsided
“Aye, you did,” I sigh, wishing for the millionth time that I could just talk to her. “And my game is suffering because of it. You’d think I was a rookie, not a seasoned vet.”
Roan crosses his arms and ponders this for a moment. “So is it like when you and Cami split, then?”
I shrug, wishing I had an answer to that question. His memory is right, I played like shite after Cami and I called it off. But that felt more like a me thing than a Cami thing. Once I realised it was for the best and we were better off as friends, my game improved.
Fucking hell, this is why Grandad always said to stay away from women during football.
“I just keep hoping Freya will come around.”
“I’m sure she will,” Roan replies and pushes himself off the car. “Now, take me somewhere for a pint. I only have a couple of hours before I have to catch a flight back to London, and we need to sit down and figure out what the fuck you’re doing wrong on that pitch.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Just what I wanted to do this fine afternoon. Talk more football.”
“Stop sniffing his pillow, Hercules. He’s not coming back,” I snap and then leap up off the bed as if the sheets could burn me. “It’s been over two weeks. It’s time.”
Hercules watches me like I’m deranged as I pull the sheets off the bed and yank the pillowcases free. Ignoring his judgment, I march them straight into the kitchen and throw them in the wash, starting the load without hesitation.
Once the wash is underway, I head into my living room and drop down onto my sofa to pull up the latest episode ofHeartland. It’s time to get back to my life. Who needs a man to watch a wholesome Canadian family drama with, anyway? Certainly not me.
My life’s not that bad really. Why bother with real-life romance when you have Netflix? And the fact that I’m turning thirty in a couple of months just means that I have disposable income for the high definition Netflix. And I can watch it in multiple locations. There are people in third world countries who don’t get to experience any of the luxuries I get to enjoy. So there. I have a leg up on the underprivileged.
Oh, crap. That sounds terrible. I make a mental note to donate to a soup kitchen in the morning. Also, second mental note…why do even my charitable acts centre around food?
When I can’t bring myself to watch an episode of my belovedHeartland, I walk back into my bedroom and slowly lift the pillow that was Mac’s to my nose.
“God, I can’t get rid of him!” I walk over to the window, pull it open, and throw the damn thing out. A familiar voice shouts down below, and my eyes go wide as I rush over to see if I’ve hurt someone.
Roan DeWalt is standing on the ground, bending over to pick up the pillow I just flung out like a psychopath. He looks up at me and asks, “Did you drop something?”
“It wasn’t me,” I state stupidly because I’m an embarrassing idiot.
He laughs and then tosses it into the bin beside him. “Can I come up?”
I nod my agreement, wondering what on earth would bring Roan over here by himself. Honestly, I didn’t even realise Roan knew where I lived.
I buzz him in and make us both a cup of tea before sitting down on the sofa beside him. It’s odd to see another man on my purple velvet couch. Roan’s sitting there holding a kitty coffee mug, and I hate the fact that all I can think about is that he doesn’t look half as good as Mac did when he sat there.
“Everything okay with Allie?” I ask, breaking the awkward silence.
Roan nods. “Ag, of course. She’s great. We had a lovely holiday.”
“That’s good to hear,” I reply and sip my tea nervously.
“I’m here to talk to you about Mac.”
I nearly break the kitten mug in my hand. “I’d rather not.”
“He’s a mess, Freya,” Roan states in a rush. “I went up to Glasgow to see him after we got back. We went to a pub before I had to catch a flight home and he’s not okay. Says he’s struggling with the team, and he’s worried if he doesn’t perform well at his friendly match tomorrow, they’re probably going to bench him.”
“Bench him? How could they? Mac is a brilliant player, isn’t he?”
“Normally, yes,” Roan says, setting his mug down on the coffee table and leaning towards me. “But his mind is not in it right now.”
“I understand,” I nod knowingly. “He loves his grandfather very much. I’m sure his illness is taking its toll.”
Roan gets an uncomfortable look on his face. “I don’t think it’s just his grandad; that’s the problem. I think he misses you.”
“Me?” I reply with a laugh. “He’s not missing me, Roan. He’s missing me no more than he’s missing you.”
