Page 49 of The Wing
I grin at my phone. Before I can respond, he sends another message.
9:19 A.M.
I’m going to bed now. I’m beat after everything today, but I’ll try to call you tomorrow. We’re flying home late tomorrow (today? I have no idea what time it is) so I’m not sure I’ll be able to catch you in waking hours. Have a good day.
I reply to his messages so he’ll see them when he wakes up.
9:23 A.M.
I’m glad you said it. I hope you get some sleep, and I’ll stay up for your call.
I want to ask him to fly to Wanaka so I can see him when he gets back. Or I could fly up to Auckland, but that’s a big thing to suggest over text message, and I don’t want him to feel pressure when he’s tired and probably emotionally wrung out after his panic attack,andthen going on to score the winning try. And he hasn’t been to his flat in over two weeks so he probably wants some alone time in his own space, which I completely understand. So I decide when he gets back to Auckland, I’ll float the idea of visiting him instead of sending it in a text and pressuring him.
Hopefully, he’ll say yes. I think he will.
I spend the rest of the day looking at plane tickets and dreaming about seeing him in a few days in the same time zone.
Despite Hemi saying he’ll call, we can’t make the time zones work. He slept most of the day away and had to rush to leave with everyone else to catch the flight, and from then on, we couldn’t find a time where I was awake or he wasn’t on a flight to call. We manage to text back and forth during his twenty-seven-hour trip home, but his layover is in the middle of the night my time. We don’t text anything important. Just ask how the other is, whether anything is delayed, and complain about how gross the plane food is.
I still don’t ask him to come to Wanaka, and he doesn’t ask me to come to Auckland. Which is fine. I’m biding my time until he’s well rested, and I can present my argument to him as to why he should come here. My top point is to get him in a good headspace for the deciding game against Australia for the winner of the Bledisloe Cup. Being here with me clearly worked last time, so we should repeat the experiment. My second point is that it means we can see each other in person, but I figure I’ll lead with the rugby argument first.
It’s six in the evening when Daisy messages saying they landed safely and are waiting to disembark the plane. It’ll probably be another hour at least before they find their bags and make it through customs. But I grin at the message anyway, knowing Hemi is in the same time zone now and it won’t be long until I hear from him. Or better, see him in person.
I respond to Daisy, wishing her a quiet night, but she doesn’t reply. She’s probably more concerned about how Westley, her puppy, fared without her for two weeks. I don’t blame her. I’m practically bouncing on the couch waiting for Hemi to text me.
After an hour of waiting for him to say he arrived safely, my excited bouncing has turned into anxiously chewing my lip. Hemust be safe, right? If Daisy arrived fine, then Hemi definitely did, too.
I text him:
Daze said you guys arrived safe, so I hope you’re okay and getting some rest. Are you at your flat? Is it nice being in your own bed again after so long?
When the clock hits nine and I haven’t heard from him, I get ready for bed and do my best to ignore the churning in my stomach.He’s fine, I tell myself. He probably went straight home to bed and isn’t awake to read my texts. And he deserves rest, so I brush my teeth and pull the covers over my lap and open my book.
Unless he was in a car accident on the way home? I shake myself. No. I will not think like that. He’s wrapped up warm in Auckland,that’s all.And if not, I’ll talk to Daisy tomorrow and see if she’s spoken to him. I will not start stressing after a few hours of no messages from him after our talk.
It’s past ten at night when there’s a knock on the door.
I freeze in bed, and my eyes dart to the clock. No one’s ever come to my door past six o’clock before.
I gulp, check my phone in case I missed a message from one of the neighbours, and fling the covers off me. It’s probably fine, just someone wanting directions.
I dress quickly, refusing to answer the door in my boxers in case it’s a serial killer, and reach the hallway as the person knocks again. More insistent this time.
“I’m coming,” I yell with a slight tremble in my voice. I yank the door open, and my mouth drops. “Hemi?”
“Hi, Liam,” he says, his voice slow and tired, but he’s smiling.
I grin at him. “What are you doing here?” He’s wearing a creased tracksuit, his hoodie is black and large, and I want to climb in with him. “I thought you were in Auckland asleep! Did you get on a plane as soon as you landed?” I scan behind him and gasp. “You drove here?”
“Yeah.” He shivers in the breeze, but I notice it absently. He drove here? By himself? In the dark?
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hemi
