Page 28 of Spark
Trying to calm my nerves when the only thing I want to do is grill my brother on the reasons he thinks Mateo likes me, I open my email app and begin typing. “You’re making quite a leap. Tomorrow will be the third time we’ve gone out. All this means is that he needs a night off.”
Even as I say the words, they slither off my tongue like a big fat lie. But wanting what Cam says to be true is different from what is real. I’ve always been practical. When Aileen came to Cam and me about buying this company, I went over every detail. Yes, my gut told me the company was an excellent opportunity for us, and we could make something of it, but I was realistic enough to know we needed to understand exactly what we were taking on.
Cam scoops a handful of M&Ms from the glass bowl on my desk and pops them into his mouth. “The thing is—”
“Jeez, Cameron, chew up your food.” I swear, I cannot believe my baby brother is a father with the way he acts.
He makes a show of chewing—with his mouth open—before he swallows. “I’m telling you. Mateo taking off, and at the last minute, is herculean big.” Then his face takes on an introspective look, and his voice softens. “Be good to him, Finlay. If you’re not serious, shut it down now.”
I straighten. The only time I recall hearing my brother sound so protective was when Olive came home from school crying because one of the “mean girls” teased her about not having a mommy. “When have you known me to intentionally hurt someone?” The question may have come out more defensive than I intended, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurt by Cam’s implication. “Two weeks ago, you were doing everything in your power to throw us together, and now… what?”
“You know I love you like a brother—”
“Iamyour brother, dipshit.” I chuck a wadded-up piece of paper at him and he ducks, laughing.
“My point is I love you, but I also care about Mateo. He’s good people. He’d do anything for anyone.” Cam leans back, resting his right ankle on his left knee, revealing the purple unicorn socks Olive gave him for his birthday two years ago. “Do you know one time he literally gave someone the shirt off his back?”
“Really?” Intrigued, I study my brother and wait.
“It was a few years ago. A bunch of us went out for drinks one night. The bar we went to was packed with college kids, and none of us were in the mood for it. So, we decided to go to a different bar. We hopped on the subway. It was starting to get cold, and there was this old guy in the car. He was huddled in a corner in nothing more than a dingy, short-sleeved undershirt. Dude was stick-skinny and was probably strung out. Everyone but Mateo heads to the opposite end of the subway car. Mateo sits down next to the guy, and they start talking.
“Before long, the guy is sitting up, smiling and laughing with Mateo. As we get close to our stop, Mateo removes the sweater he’s wearing and places it over the guy’s head. It wasn’t only that he was giving the guy his sweater, but the care he took.” Cam’s mouth quirks. “Like a parent helping their small child get dressed. Then he takes out his wallet and hands the guy some bills. The guy shakes his head, but Mateo says something to him. The old guy smiles and takes the money. When we get to our stop, Mateo waves to the guy like they’ve known each other for years. We walked to the bar in the cool autumn night, with Mateo in a short-sleeved tee. When I asked him about it, he just shrugged his shoulders and said it was no big deal. That we all need a little help from time-to-time.”
“Wow,” I whisper.
Cam nods. “Yeah.”
And like that, I tumble further into feelings I crave more and more.
Chapter Eight
Mateo
Wednesdaynightsaremyfavorite nights of the week. I climb out of my truck and grab the bag holding my cleats, mouthguard, towel, and water bottle. The scent of freshly mowed grass fills the air wafting from the rugby field. The dull ache in my forehead and the semi-buzzed feeling caused by lack of sleep slow my movements. As exhausted as I am, I can’t wait to see my friends. The part I can wait on is actually practicing.
My muscles are achy and I’m still sporting bruises from this past Saturday’s game. When playing a full contact sport, getting bruises is part of it. My legs are usually sore from running around for over an hour during a game, and my upper body is usually sore from tackling, rucking, and scrums. Practices aren’t quite as draining or demanding, but I still plan on downing a protein shake on my drive home.
Stifling a yawn, I blink over eyes that feel like sandpaper and shuffle across the parking lot. I use Sundays as my recovery days, both from rugby and the other jobs, catching a long nap in the afternoon, but the past two Sundays have been spent with Finlay, and so I’ve been operating on a sleep and rest deficit for a little while now.
As I walk to the pitch, I roll my shoulders. The muscles are tight from the hours I spent in the truck today driving to appointments. I need to loosen up before we get started.
Several players from both the under and over thirty teams are already here. I greet Easton and Kade and a few of my teammates and wave to Hercules who is sitting on the lowest bleacher, holding a binder with our practice drills and player log. Taking a detour, I stride over to him. "Hey bud, how was your weekend?"
"After Dover kicked our asses, you mean?" He laughs and shakes his head. "Good. Cam and Olive and I went to the zoo on Sunday. Since her party, she wants to go every weekend."
"You’re settling in okay over there?"
He nods. "They’re great. It’s nice to have company, and they both help me get around. Since I want to be a teacher, Olive keeps insisting that we play school and that I teach her and her stuffed animals. I’m having fun with both her and Cam."
It’s good to see him smiling. "I’m happy you’re happy. How’s your leg doing? I don’t see your crutches."
"I’m finally done with them, and the doctor cleared me to begin physical therapy. Owen’s going to start working with me." His gaze tracks to the opposite side of the bleachers where Owen is guiding one of our teammates through a shoulder stretch.
"It’s good to have a physical therapist on the team."
"And ours is at the top of his field, which is even better." Herc adjusts his leg so the walking boot is resting on the bleacher seat. "How about you? Doing okay? You look tired again, Teo."
I drop my sunglasses over my eyes, shielding the shadows from his view. "I’m fine. I was up late, that’s all."
