Page 43 of The Wing
I hold still for her. “Yeah. He did the track again a few days ago, too.” Tuesday NZ time to be exact. He sent me a selfie with red cheeks, soaked through from rain, and he looked adorable, if not slightly miserable. I wanted to kiss him and warm him up, but I’m twenty-seven hours away so I settled on texting him. I ignored his message about my shoulder. I don’t want to stresshim out about how I’m feeling when he can finally get some work done.
Daisy pauses, smoothing the tape on my skin, and straightens. Her eyebrows fly up and her mouth drops open. “Liam did the hike again. By himself?”
I nod. “When we did it, it helped with his writing, but when he went on Tuesday it didn’t help.” It’s selfish of me to hope it’s because I wasn’t there, but I shouldn’t think that. I want him to be successful and go back to his normal routines now that I’m not there, but I also want him to think about me the way I am him. Constantly. Always. Everything reminds me of him. Training with the boys makes me think of him now, throwing the ball back and forth in the garden, and his words of encouragement.
“Huh. I can’t believe he voluntarily went on a hike. By himself. Must have something to do with a certain rugby player.” Daisy smirks at me.
I glance around the room and glare at her. We’re in our allocated rooms in the hotel for training and physio, everything a team could need, and there are a few other players scattered around the room waiting to be seen by Daisy and Adam, the head physio for the team, but no one’s paying attention. I don’t want the boys to latch on to the fact there’s someone in my life now. I need to sort my own feelings out—and Liam’s—before I go around telling people I’m in a relationship. I don’t even know if Liam wants that.
“He probably needed to get out of the house.”
Daisy snorts. “Liam has never once thought about leaving his house. Everything he could ever need is in that house. It’s because of you. He texted me last night, and I think he misses you.”
I blink at her. He misses me? “He’s messaged you?”
“Yeah, last night he was complaining about cooking for himself and sent me a million memes, which means his writing isn’t going well.” Daisy shifts to my back to check the tape is smooth, making it easier to ask her questions about Liam without her knowing brown eyes staring at me.
“He messaged you last night?” I confirm with a tight knot creeping into my chest.
Daisy hums. “He tends to spam me with memes when he gets distracted or can’t figure something out in his book. He hasn’t done that to you yet?” She faces me again, a small frown pulls her eyebrows together, and I notice Jamie staring at her and glaring at me as if I’m the reason she looks so unhappy. “Is something wrong?” she asks cautiously.
I roll my shoulder to make sure the tape’s in place, and it tugs at my skin. “No, everything’s all good.” I stand and pull my pink training jersey on.
“I wouldn’t read into it if he hasn’t messaged you. Maybe he’s giving you space?”
I nod. “Thanks, Daze, hopefully my shoulder holds up and I don’t choke for no reason,” I say with a tiny note of bitterness, which has returned disappointingly fast after ten days with Liam. I guess I’m not doing as well as I thought I was.
“Hemi, you’re going to be fine. Don’t be so hard on yourself so quickly. You’re starting fifteen. Alex wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t happy with what he saw at training.” Daisy shoots me a smile. “Be proud of yourself. And if Liam isn’t texting, you text him. Force him not to forget you. Not that he could,” she adds with a grin. “He’s probably convinced himself last week was a dream.”
I tilt my head and consider her. I told him to keep in contact at the airport, but maybe he’s convinced himself I don’t want to hear from him. Probably not helped by the fact I’ve deliberatelyignored his messages about my shoulder and haven’t sent my own texts. Damn it. “Thanks. I’ll see you later?”
She nods and I leave the room, waving at the boys as I stride to the lift. There are still a few hours until the game, and we don’t leave for the stadium until four. It’s midday now. Four hours to kill and ignore the churning in my stomach, the persistent tightness in my throat, and the whirling thoughts remembering the last month of issues on repeat. I haven’t been able to escape them since I left Liam at the airport.
And every time he asks how I am or how training went or how my shoulder’s feeling, I just…freeze. The complicated mess of emotions is brought forward, and I don’t want to respond.
When I see the texts after training, when I’m already questioning my form, where I can improve, and whether I was doing what the coaches wanted, my feelings are already tangled. His message sent excitement through me, and then I got to the part about my shoulder, and all the yelling from the coaches came crashing down on me again.
I shouldn’t have ignored the questions though, because now he won’t text me anything, and somehow I’ve made him think I don’t want to hear from him, which is not true. I check my phone constantly. More than I should. And there hasn’t been anything for three days.
The lift doors open on my floor, and I find my room quickly and unlock it. Johnny has training gear on too, and is holding his keycard.
“Hey, man, how’d physio go? Shoulder feeling good?” Johnny asks. He brushes sandy blond hair out of his eyes, and his cheeks are red, reminding me of Liam with a pang, but Johnny isn’t as pale as Liam, considering he spends time in the sun.
I smile tightly at him. “I guess we’ll see. Where are you off to?” I chuck my stuff on the bed and sit heavily, bouncing on the mattress.
“Gonna join Nick and Suli for b-ball before we leave. Wanna come?”
“Nah. Think I’ll try to relax, get in the right headspace.” If that’s even possible. The more I think about it, the more people ask about it, and the more texts I receive from family, the more I feel the need to roll it, massage it, and baby it as if there’s something wrong with it. Playing rugby is never a time to be cautious with your body.
Johnny stares at me for a few seconds, glances at my shoulder, but eventually nods. “All right, see you later, mate.” The heavy hotel door slams shut behind him, and I blow out a slow breath, attempting to calm my racing heart.
My hands begin to shake, and I tug my hair unconsciously, trying to focus on anything but my ragged breathing and swirling thoughts about choking on the field and fumbling the ball in front of thousands of people. I stand shakily as the walls seem to shift and turn to pace the room.
My eyes catch on my backpack and the books peeking out of it. The books Liam gave me and signed. I dig through the bag desperately and take the books out with trembling fingers and nearly drop them as I place them on the bed. I’d forgotten to grab his favourite book, but at least I have my favourites.
I open the hardcover to the page where he signed it, and my breath slows and evens out the longer I look at his red signature. L.S Greene swirls over the page, the pen line uneven near the end of his signature because I’d pushed him against the desk and distracted him. I sit on the floor because my legs can’t hold my weight anymore, and I clutch the book until my vision goes a spotty red from staring at the ink so long. I close the bookcarefully, fingers mostly steady now, and reach for the second book.
I open it and jerk it closer to me. He wrote something in it. Liam didn’t just sign it, but wrote a note above his signature. My fingers shake.
