Page 54 of Spark
A different sort of heat stirs within me. Trapping his hand under mine, interlocking our fingers, I attempt a stern whisper, "Stop. We’re in public."
He smiles as though he’s amused at the lack of conviction in my tone. "To be continued when we’re back in private."
As often as we’ve been together, every form of intimacy still excites me as though it were new. I can’t get enough of him and I don’t know if I ever will.
Sharing ice cream, we watch the game. It doesn’t take long for me to notice that Finlay’s hand tightens on my thigh with every play on the field, or the way he flinches every time someone is tackled. I let him have the last bite of the cone. "You okay?"
"Sure." He turns his head away from the field as Cam takes someone down.
Slipping my hand along his jaw, I urge him to look into my eyes. "Finlay? What’s going on? It’s like you’re in pain."
"I am. In a way. I hate this."
Baffled by his admission, I replay the many conversations we’ve had, and don’t recall there being a hint of his distaste for the sport. "If you dislike rugby so much, why did you come today?"
He winces as the yelling on the field grows louder. "I thought you might need the support. You know, with returning to the scene of the injury."
"That’s really sweet of you." My heart overflowing with how thoughtful he is, I scoot closer, bringing our thighs together, and drape my arm around his back, curling my hand into his side. "I appreciate it. I’m fine, but I want you to know how much that means to me."
Cheers from the field indicate our team has scored a try, but the burn of Finlay’s gaze holds me captive. His shoulder presses deeper into mine with his shrug. "Trying to be a good boyfriend."
"You are." I kiss his temple. "And when I go back to playing, I promise I won’t expect you to come to games."
Muscles stiffen under my embrace. Finlay jerks away from me, eyes rounded, posture rigid, he stares at me like I’ve just sprouted three heads. "Going back? What do you mean, going back?"
Confused by his reaction and the distance he’s put between us, I reach a hesitant hand forward. He lets me place it on his thigh, but doesn’t attempt to move any closer to me. "To play. Rugby."
"No way. You can’t. Are you crazy?" He points at the field, where our team is trouncing the guys from Bucks County. "I watched you collapse right there. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"
My chest goes tight and my gut wrenches at his wrecked expression and the weight of his words. "Finlay—"
"You wereunconscious. Injured. Broken. Out of commission for weeks. And you’re actually thinking of playing again?" He stands, shaking his head as though he can’t believe it.
"Yes." I stand too, desperate to make him understand. "Because I’m fine now.Fine. Healed. All better. You were at the doctor’s office with me yesterday, remember?"
"I was in the ambulance with you too." The words snap through the air, shooting molten hot arrows straight into my heart. "I didn’t bring up rugby yesterday because you didn’t. I had assumed you weren’t going to continue playing."
I don’t want him to be afraid. Catching hold of his hand, I squeeze it. "I’m sorry the injury happened. I wish it hadn’t. Especially because you were there to witness it."
"You don’t know what it was like," his voice grows quiet, and his eyes take on a faraway haze, "worrying every week about what was happening when you were in a game."
Time seems to slow down as I gape at him, jaw gone slack, and my mind replays what he’s just revealed. My mouth works open and closed and open and closed before I can find any words. "I had no idea. You never said anything."
He tugs his hand free from my hold. "How could I? But now that I have, I don’t want you playing anymore."
Confusion bubbles in my chest and my thoughts race. I brace my legs as our relationship’s foundation rattles and cracks around me. "I get your concern, okay? I do. But I don’t want to stop playing. Rugby is so much more than a game to me. It’s my release. These guys are my family. I need this."
We stare at each other. Separated by feet, but it seems like miles. With a jerky movement, he scratches the back of his neck and shifts his gaze to somewhere beyond my shoulder. "I don’t understand you…"
A low-grade thud begins at the base of my skull and an answering drumbeat throbs at my temples. "I don’t know what to say so youwillunderstand."
He jerks his thumb in Hercules’s direction. "Why can’t you be more like him?"
"Iambeing like him. He made the decision he felt was best for himself. So am I."
A strangled sound emanates from Finlay’s throat as he drags his hands over his face and through his hair. "For someone so smart, I think you’re being incredibly stupid."
"Right now, I’m feeling the same way about you." The words snap out, forced by the heat flushing through my body. Yes, I was injured, but made a complete recovery. I can’t figure out where his fear is coming from. "I understand your concern, but I’m not giving this up."
