Page 109 of The Keeper and I

The team celebrated. Jordan lifted his hands and clapped from his end of the pitch, his confidence growing. There was still five minutes plus stoppage before the half, maybe they could—

SLAM.

A sudden, heavy weight barreled into Jordan’s side. He went to the ground as a fist came toward his head, which he blocked with his gloves. He covered his face, so he couldn’t see who it was. He thought maybe it was the Chelsea guy, coming back for round two, but everyone was seemingly on the other end of the pitch. This had to be pitch stormer, but how had they gotten past security?

“She’s mine!” the attacker shouted, and Jordan recognized the voice. Dane. “She was promised to me!”

Furious, Jordan grabbed Dane by the throat, twisted around, and smashed him into the grass. In his peripheral vision, Jordan saw his teammates and security arriving. While he had the chance, he held Dane down, took off one glove with his teeth, and drove his freed fist into Dane’s nose. He thought on the nights Laci lost sleep and the terrified look on her face as she trembled in his arms, and he punched the fucker again. This time drawing blood.

Dane broke free of Jordan’s grip, scrambled to his knees, and grabbed him around the waist in an attempt to tackle him again. But Jordan dug in. They pushed at each other like wrestlers. Luka and Israel moved to grab Dane and remove him from their captain, but Ethan snatched them by their jerseys and held them back.

“Knife!” he warned.

That made Jordan stiffen. When had Dane drawn a weapon? It hardly mattered with how quickly Ethan acted. He kicked Dane’s hand. Jordan heard a few fingers crack. Dane howled, dropping the knife, and cradled his hand into his chest. Luka and Israel moved to help Jordan to his feet as security surrounded Dane.

Somehow, Dane had the energy to resist them. He wriggled wildly, but he was outnumbered and overpowered. He looked wilder with wet redness smeared across the bottom half of his face. Jordan caught his breath. He felt a clap on his shoulder and turned to see Ethan there.

“You alright?” he asked in his Southern drawl.

Jordan swallowed and nodded. “Think so.”

“Gotta watch for those knives. I tell ya, nothing will put a bigger hitch in your giddy up.”

Jordan opened his mouth, prepared to call him a wanker and move on, but Dane interrupted again.

“She was promised to me!” he cried, yanking his arm against the security guard holding him. “She should be mine!”

Jordan shook his head. “Fuck off, Dane. Laci’s a person. She doesn’tbelongto anyone.”

A tiny part of him disagreed with that. He felt possessive of Laci, but certainly not enough to stab anyone, unless she wanted him to. If she asked him to stab Dane, he’d do it without hesitation.

“Before she was Laci,” Dane went on. “When she was Caroline.”

Jordan’s blood went cold. His heart squeezed in on itself. Every muscle in his body went rigid. How in the world did Dane know about that name?

“That’s enough out of you,” the security guard said.

“Wait!” Jordan said, stepping closer. With his free hand, he took hold of Dane’s shirt, ignoring the shouts of annoyance from the crowd to resume the match. “What are you on about? Before she was Laci? What does that mean?”

He wanted to punch the smug smile off Dane’s face, but the blood running from his nose would have to satisfy him.

“You haven’t realized yet, have you?” Dane said with a sneer. “You lost her once before, Frawley.”

Jordan opened his mouth to question Dane, but the referee put a hand to his chest and ushered him back toward the goal. Security dragged Dane off the pitch. He’d stopped fighting it, but then he started laughing. His wicked cackle echoed all the way into the tunnel. Jordan stood there, stricken, until Fernando placed a hand on his arm.

“You good, Captain?” he asked.

Jordan didn’t answer for a long moment, his gaze on the purple bruises blooming over his knuckles. He wasn’t good. He wasn’t even within a hair of somewhat okay. He felt like the pitch had been jerked askew, and he was struggling to keep his boots on the ground. Dane’s voice rang in his ears.You lost her once before, Frawley. You lost her once before, Frawley. You lost her once before, Frawley…

He shook his head to clear it.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Let's get back to the match.”

Ten minutes of stoppage time were added on to the end of the first half to accommodate the interruption, and Jordan had no doubt pundits and social media would be having a field day with the mysterious pitch stormer. Stanmore returned to the locker room in complete silence, but he could feel his teammates’ eyes on him. Curious eyes. Worried eyes.

Before Coach Warren got started on a game plan, Jordan cleared his throat and stood beside him at the white board.

“Sorry, Coach, I think I’ve got to explain what happened back there,” he said.

---