Page 1 of The Wing
CHAPTER ONE
Hemi
“Is it true what she said? There’s a problem with your shoulder?” Charlie asks, frowning at me with concern in her hazel eyes, so similar to mine.
I roll my shoulder and shrug, feeling a tiny twinge in the muscle. Whether it’s in my head or just sore after the game, I’m not sure, and that’s part of the issue. I decline the beer being handed out after our win. I don’t deserve it after my poor showing on the field.
“It’s fine,” I respond shortly.
“Totally fine. That’s why your physio just demanded a meeting.”
“She didn’t demand it,” I mutter. “Daisy doesn’t demand things. She carefully…cajoles them.”
“Cajoles? Really? What does that even mean?” Charlie asks with a laugh.
“You know what it means.” I yank off the tight black jersey, and it tangles around my head. Charlie tugs it off and drops it in my cubby.
“But she told you to see her tomorrow, right? That means there’s something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Charlotte,” I say, already knowing the response I’m about to get from my sister.
“Don’t full-name me, Hemi Carter. I just watched one of your medical providers tell you to see her tomorrow. That means something is wrong since you haven’t mentioned anything.” Charlie jabs me in the waist, and I flinch when her sharp nails stab me.
“Jesus, do you ask the nail people to make them that sharp on purpose?” I rub my waist and frown at the faint indent her nail left on my skin.
Charlie crosses her arms and glares. “You gonna tell me what this is about or should I tell Mum?”
I roll my eyes at her. “If you tell her, I’ll tell her about the guy you dated for six months and never told her about.”
Charlie gasps, narrowing her eyes at me. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” We lock eyes, but I break first and sigh. “Look, I dunno what’s wrong with my shoulder. My throws are off and I’m fumbling my catches, but I feel fine. I don’t get it. Clearly other people have noticed, which is seriously bad for me,” I finish with a mutter and glance at Daisy ripping tape off Jamie, our hooker.
She’s a short white woman with brown hair, but that doesn’t stop her deceptively small hands from manipulating our muscles to her will. Jamie towers over her, and sweat streaks his medium brown skin and Samoan tattoo covering the entirety of his left leg.
I avoid trying to find Alex Clark, our head coach, to see if he’s noticed anything. Chances aren’t looking good if the physios have noticed something. That means the coaches have, and I can expect a discussion with them soon. I rub the tight feeling in my chest away.
“That’s shit. I’m sorry. Does it hurt?” Charlie asks, frowning at my shoulder.
Charlotte is my older sister, half-sister technically, but it’s never felt that way. We share the same Maori mother but have different Pakeha fathers. I take after Mum with my light brown skin and chestnut hair, while Charlotte takes after her father and is only slightly tanned with blonde hair. We both have Mum’s hazel eyes and Charlie’s lean green sometimes. Both of our dads fucked off as soon as they got the chance, and it’s been us three since. Mum’s not a fan of rugby though, not like Charlie, but she sends texts wishing me luck when she can. I haven’t heard from her in a few days; she’s on a cruise with her painting friends for the next month and coverage has been spotty.
And I’m hardly going to worry her about whatever’s happening to me when she already hates what rugby can do to your body.
Despite Charlie watching my games from the fancy corporate box the business she works for owns, and only videoing my fails, she’s family, and even if she’s asking questions I don’t want to answer, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
So I take a long breath and say, “No. Not really. That’s what I don’t understand. I’m throwing as if I’m injured, but I don’t feel more sore than usual after a game.” I shrug and rub a rough hand over my eyes. “I don’t get it.”
Charlie sits in the cubby beside me. “It’s probably a good idea to let her look at it then. You don’t want to be sidelined for South Africa.”
“No, I don’t.” We’re in the middle of the Rugby Championship and still have our test matches against South Africa and one left with Australia after the game tonight. I’ve been on the national rugby team for five years, the startingfifteen for two, and I don’t want my stupid shoulder to give up in the middle of the season. Especially when it can’t even decide if it’s injured or not.
“So let Daisy do her job. Be a good boy and let her fix you, so you don’t come and cry on my couch when they sideline you.”
I glare at Charlie making light of this but notice the concern in her eyes and the rapid tapping of her nails on her knee. I sigh and nod. “Yeah, I’ll see her tomorrow and see what she says.”
“Good.” Charlie stands, holds her hand out to me, and hauls me upright. “And she’s right, you know, that try in the last second was amazing.” I shrug again and duck my head. “And being injured doesn’t take that away. Hemi, you play for the national team. You should be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you.”
I sniff against the burning in my nose. “Thanks.” I wrap my arms around her and drag her into a hug.
