Page 44 of The Wing
The note is simple, almost indifferent, something any author would write at a signing:It was wonderful to meet you Hemi.But as I run a finger over the red, I can hear Liam saying it to me, can imagine him whispering it in my ear as his voice turns rough with arousal.
I grab the third book and open it slowly, hoping to find another note from him. There wasn’t anything in the first book, so maybe he didn’t write anything in the third, but I know the first was the book he signed last, when I distracted him. I will never forget any of the details from that.
The third book stacks on the others in my lap as I sit on the hotel room floor, and more than his signature appears when I open it. This note is more personal, still short, but enough for my chest to clench, to wish he was here with me or I was with him. To have a message from him light up my phone even though it’s nearly midnight in NZ right now.
Red splashes over the page and reads:This one has a hike but doesn’t end nearly as well as ours did.
I grin at the words, and heat races through me remembering Liam covered in bubbles. I open the last book and read:Can you guess which character I based off Faramir? He reminds me of you sometimes.
I remind him of Faramir, his favourite character and one he based his own on. I swallow thickly against the lump in my throat. Both characters are quiet but strong and defiant, follow orders with honour, and fight for freedom.
Rugby isn’t like that, and this isn’t a fantasy world, but if Liam thinks that highly of me, I don’t want to disappoint himbecause I’m anxious about my shoulder. I don’t want to lose him because I can’t figure out how to answer his concerned questions.
So I stand, holding the books carefully, and stash them in my bag and grab my phone.
I open my text thread with Liam, and the photo of him from his solo hike appears. I smile and type out a message.
I hope you had a good day. Daisy strapped me up and said you spammed her with memes. Hope you’re okay and sleeping well.
I send it before I can think too deeply about it and grab one of the books, opening it to chapter one. I need something to distract me until we leave for the stadium. Being around the boys laughing and chatting about the game will do nothing but remind me why I’m anxious. So I settle in to read, hoping Liam’s words will calm my racing heart and my unsteady breathing.
It doesn’t work.
By the time we arrive at the stadium, I can barely hide my trembling fingers from the team, let alone the coaches, and it feels like I’m breathing through a straw. I smile tightly at Johnny, who peers at me from across the changing sheds where we’re all getting into our uniforms and coming in and out from the warm-up area. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Like he knows something’s wrong and he’s about to ask about it. A text from Charlie and Mum was enough, both asking how my shoulder is—Charlie spilled the beans to Mum, which is an added worry I don’t need right now—and wishing me luck. It should spur me on and bring me comfort, but all it did was remind me why I wasn’t here last week.
Because I wasn’t good enough.
Because there’s nothing wrong with my shoulder, but I continue to baby it instead of giving my all to the game.
Training wasn’t all bad. I was better than I have been the past few weeks, but I had to concentrate on using my arm like normal. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that for the game.
I turn my phone on, but there isn’t a message from Liam. It’s four A.M. in New Zealand now. No way he’ll be awake, and if he’s watching the game he doesn’t need to be up for another hour for kickoff.
I glance at Johnny who’s frowning at me now, and in a whirl of movement, I duck out of the room and jog down the hall, passing all the officials and coaches and medical staff and subs, until I find a quiet room.
I launch myself inside and slam the door behind me.
My breaths are loud and jagged in the silent room, which heightens the anxiety, and my fingers shake so much I can barely turn my phone on.
I’m panicking.
Full-blown freaking out about this fucking game. Fuck’s sake, what am I gonna do? I can’t play like this.
I bend over my knees and clutch my hair, and my phone digs into my skull. When that doesn’t work, I pace around the room. When spots enter my vision, I turn my phone on and it opens on the text thread with Liam I haven’t closed yet. I should call Mum or Charlie, but instead I click the call button for Liam, hoping and praying he’ll pick up. I know Mum won’t watch the game, and I have no clue what time zone she’s in. Charlie only watches games at normal times, but Liam follows the team, so maybe he’ll be awake.
“Please, please, please,” I mutter through desperate breaths. The dial tone connects. “Liam,” I choke on his name when I can’t breathe properly. “Fuck, can’t breathe,” I pant.
“Hemi? What’s the matter?” Liam asks, his voice rough with sleep but sent from god. His voice calms me enough I can suck in a full breath and answer his question.
“Panicking.”
“Shit, Hemi, you need to breathe. I’m changing the call to camera.”
I shift the phone from my ear to hold it in front of me, and when I accept the camera call, the phone shakes so violently I can’t see him properly.
Liam is in bed with a pillow crease on his cheek. “Take breaths with me, Hemi. In.” Liam breathes in long and slow, and I try to follow him, but choke halfway through and start coughing. “Hemi, look at me.” I meet Liam’s serious eyes. “Breathe in with me as long as you can and then out.” Liam breathes in, and I follow, but as soon as I feel the choking sensation, I breathe out. “Good. Again.” This time it’s easier. I can pull in a breath for longer before blowing it out. My hands start to steady, and I can see his face properly, his messy hair and pillow creases.
In. Out. In and out. I follow Liam until I’m breathing properly and don’t have to think about it, don’t have to force it, and my hand is steady enough I don’t have to concentrate on holding it still.
