Page 39 of The Wing
I stand and pace in front of the TV, too anxious to sit. “But what if I get there and I can’t even throw? Let alone tackle. Liam, I don’t think?—”
Liam stands and strides to me and cups my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “Hemi, you are on the team because you’re fucking good at your job. You’re going to fly to South Africa,train with the team, have check-ins with Daisy, and talk to the team psychologist. And if it gets too much, you’ll call me and I’ll tell you to read a book or watchThe Lord of the Ringsor talk to me about it if you want to. You’ll show up at the game next week and win it. I know you will because you work hard. The fact that you needed a break saysnothingabout your skills as a player. All it means is your body needs a break. That’s it.”
Liam brushes his thumbs over my cheeks. “It’s the same when I have a block writing. It means I need a break. So I play a video game or read a book or text Daisy to give my mind something else to do while it sorts itself out in the background.”
I blink at him, his blue eyes soft and encouraging, the confidence he has in me vibrating from him, and I nod. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Liam repeats.
“I can do this. I’ll see the team again and everything will be fine, and if it isn’t, I’ll work on it or call you.” He can’t take back what he said. He’s given me permission to call him, so I will until he gets sick of me and blocks my number.
“Exactly. Because you have people who care about you. You have a support system, so you better call me. Or Charlie. Or your mum.” Liam stares at me seriously.
“I will,” I swear. My hands reach up to clutch his wrists, and I shift my head to press a kiss to his hand.
“Good. Now let’s finish watching this game and pray they pull themselves together.”
The team pulled themselves together. Barely. With three yellow cards and more blood dripping down faces than usual. At least I won’t be walking into a stressed team, but that doesn’t stop the tightening in my chest.
I inhale Liam’s scent and tuck myself closer to him, resting my chin on his hair, and pull the covers tighter around us.
We didn’t stick around after the game ended for the interviews. I think Liam wanted to stop me from spiralling intomy anxious brain after the messy win, but getting back into bed with him for a nap when I know we have to leave in a few hours so I can catch my flight to Auckland, away from him, when I don’t know when I’ll see him again, is not helping anything. The only thing helping is his scent surrounding me and the heat of his body against mine. But even that will be gone soon, and I cling to the fact he said I could call him. He wouldn’t have said that unless he meant it and wanted to hear from me again after I leave.
Right?
He wouldn’t have said that just to stop me feeling bad about myself. I don’t think he would, at least. I shake my head to dislodge the anxious thoughts. He said to call him, so I will until he tells me not to.
I huddle closer to him and close my eyes even though I know I won’t sleep. Not when sunlight peeks through the curtains.
Especially not when my shoulder has started throbbing.
I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here with Liam and ignore everything else, but I have a job to do, and I owe it to the team and myself to play the game to the best of my ability.
I hope what Liam said is true and that I can do it.
But there’s a persistent thought looping in my mind saying a week won’t fix anything.
And I guess I’m about to find out.
CHAPTER TEN
Liam
I lift Hemi’s suitcase into the boot of the car and slam it shut. It’s time to drive him to the airport so he can catch a flight to South Africa to play in the deciding game for the Freedom Cup. I knew he would only be here for just over a week, but it’s harder packing up his stuff and forcing myself into the driver’s seat than I thought it would be.
When I told Daisy he could stay with me, I expected to hole up in my office the entire time and barely see him. Not hike with him or plan aTheLord of the Ringsfilm location day or practice fucking rugby with him. I definitely didn’t envision sleeping with him or having his mouth wrapped around my dick. Nothing could have prepared me for that. And now he has to leave, and I don’t know when I’ll see him again.
The logical thing to do is tell him to call me and say my door is always open for him, or just bloody tell him I’m in love with him.
I shake my head sharply.
No. I can’t tell him that. I’m not in love with him. I can’t be after ten days. That doesn’t make any sense. Just because I’ve followed his career the last few years and found him attractive on screen doesn’t automatically translate to anything in person. I’ve loved having him here and spending time with him and finally getting to know him. That doesn’t mean I’minlove with him. Does it?
I shake my head again, inhale slowly, blow it out, and get in the driver’s seat. “Got everything?” I ask Hemi who’s buckled in the passenger seat with his backpack at his feet.
He didn’t want it in the boot in case the bag got crushed, apparently the signed books are in there and he’s become extremely protective over them. Seems silly to me that he’s taking them on a long-haul flight now, but when he gets to Auckland there’s no time to drop them off at his flat. It’s straight on to the next flight to Singapore and then South Africa. Then he hits the ground running and trains for the week before the game. No downtime.
I’m not sure if that’s his way of hinting he won’t be able to message me much or straight out telling me he won’t. I’m too scared to ask. Which is stupid. I should ask, “Hey, Hemi, were you looking for a one-time thing, or can I message you throughout the week and expect you at my house when you arrive back in NZ? No? That’s fine.” Then I can cry over my keyboard and move on with my life.
