Page 55 of Spark
The whistle signifying the end of the first half shrills through the air.
"There’s no use trying to talk sense into you, is there?" He turns and stalks away, movements rigid, and becomes absorbed in a conversation with Olive in the grassy space beside the bleachers, keeping his back to me.
Hurt swells like a wave in my chest. I know Hercules is sitting right there and heard every word. I can’t look at him. Several voices accompany the thuds of dozens of pairs of cleats running off the field. At the first call of my name, I paste on a smile and turn toward my teammates.
My thoughts are a chaotic mess throughout the break. I try to chat with everyone and appear unaffected, and avoid talking to Cam or Herc. Herc, because he witnessed everything, and Cam, because he’ll know something’s wrong as soon as he talks to me. The look he shot me when Olive and Finlay announced that they were going on a walk was filled with questions. I’m aware that Finlay taking Olive for a walk was probably more about putting distance between the two of us than for Olive or Finlay’s desire to take a walk in this heat.
When the game resumes, Herc and I are alone on the bleachers. He taps my thigh. “Want to talk about it?”
My emotions and thoughts over what happened are too chaotic. “Thanks, but no.”
He nods and we watch the game in silence for another few minutes before he taps me again. “Come with me. We’ll join the subs on the sidelines and help cheer on our team.”
Grateful for the outlet he’s given me, I rise. “Now, that sounds good.”
By the time the game ends, Finlay and Olive have returned. Walking away from the sidelines with Herc, I follow the flow of my teammates back to the bleachers. Clustered around me, exchanging cleats for sneakers, some of them also strip off their sweaty, grass-stained jerseys. There’s talk of who’s buying the first round of drinks at our favorite bar, and invitations issued to the opposing team to come along.
Tension coils my muscles, and hands shoved in my pockets, I chat with Herc and Owen. Finlay hovers at the edge of the group, shoulders as tight as mine feel, as he talks to Aileene who has arrived to take Olive out for the afternoon.
Olive runs over to hug Cam and Herc goodbye. Then she throws her arms around me. Unprepared, I pat her back. She tilts her head back and smiles up at me. "I’m glad you’re all better now, Teo."
"I am all better." Ruffling her hair, I restate her words for Finlay’s benefit, since I can see him coming closer. "Have fun with your aunt."
"And you have fun with Uncle Fin." She releases me, hugs Finlay, then rushes back to Aileene.
I meet Finlay’s gaze. Irritation sparks through my body like a short fuse of a powder keg ready to ignite. Embers of banked anger flare in his hazel depths. This is the closest we’ve stood without touching each other since we met. It’s as though there’s an invisible force field keeping us apart.
Cam hesitates a few feet away from us. "Are you guys coming to the bar?"
Earlier in the day, joining the guys for the post-game festivities had been my original plan, but Finlay doesn’t look like he’d be receptive to going, and I worry that my mood might bring the guys down. "I don’t think so."
He glances from me to his brother. "All right…"
"I’ll talk to you later, bud." Waving to him and Herc, I turn in the direction of Finlay’s car and trudge over the field. Finlay catches up with me, keeping enough distance between us that half the rugby team could fit into the space.
Neither of us speak during the walk through the parking lot. Finlay puts the car in drive without a word. I stare out the window, watching the blocks go by and the city give way to more greenery. Thick tension clogs the air, adding reinforcement to the invisible wall.
Unable to endure the constant skewering of the deafening silence, I finally break it. "I’ve played rugby for five years. Aside from what happened six weeks ago, I’ve never been injured."
"You can’t guarantee that you’ll stay safe going forward." Voice gruff, Finlay keeps his focus on the road.
"Can any of us?" Back pressed to the door, arms folded, I watch, stupefied, as his jaw clicks and pulses. "We could be in a car accident at any moment. You could be struck by a delivery truck walking across the street. You could fall down the stairs in your house and break your neck. I could get hurt on a job site. There’s no guarantee of safety anywhere."
His hands flex on the steering wheel. "So maybe with all of those factors, you shouldn’t tempt fate by deliberately putting yourself in a dangerous sport."
"You knew I played when you met me." Straightening in my seat, I focus on the traffic in front of us. Looking at him is giving me heartburn. "Where is this coming from?"
The heaviness of his breath is followed by a low growl of frustration. "I played football in high school. Tackled a kid. He went down. Didn’t move. I didn’t know if he was paralyzed or what. He needed surgery, months of rehab, and couldn’t ever play again. He lost the football scholarship that would’ve put him in his dream university too. Because of me."
My thumping heart decelerates. I turn my attention back to him, irritation and aggravation replaced with a longing to alleviate him of his burden. "Why didn’t you ever tell me?"
"It’s not easy for me to talk about." Eyebrows gathering in, mouth downturned, he curls his shoulders over his chest. He’s silent for another few blocks and my thoughts scramble for what to say to him. Then he takes a deep breath that looks like it pains him. "I haven’t played in a game since."
Sympathy swells for him. I long to reach out, but worry my touch won’t be welcome. "Accidents happen, Finlay."
"I know. And that’s why I don’t want you to play anymore."
In lieu of touching him, I gentle my tone. "I’m so sorry you went through what you did. And for the guilt and pain you still carry. I’m as careful as I can be. Rugby is safer than football. Those guys are my family, the bond we have is… I can’t explain it. Being out there with them feeds something in me. I don’t want to walk away from it."
