Page 24 of Tethered Hearts

“Are you going to answer that?” Brie asked after several moments.

He didn’t want to. He knew it would probably be Blayne. But he’d just apologised to Brie for being rude. Surely he owed the same consideration to his manager. With a sigh, he grabbed the phone and swiped over the screen.

“Hello.” He mouthed an apology to Brie.

“Finally, you pick up.” Blayne’s deep voice rumbled down the line. “I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth. Excuse me while I sit down in shock.”

Matt gave a short laugh as Brie placed a hand on his arm and informed him that she was going for a walk.

“So, what’s been happening, Matt?” Blayne’s voice drew him away from Brie’s dainty hand, warm on his skin.

“Not a great deal, unfortunately.” It was good to hear from him. Blayne had been a great manager, and beyond the fanfare and fame that came with being an elite athlete, he’d been a good friend. One that Matt had shut out due to his self-imposed pity party and wallowing.

“How’s life treating you up the coast?”

“It’s …” He leaned against the bench, resting one arm along the back of the seat as his gaze tracked Brie tossing a tennis ball to the two dogs. Something shifted in his chest with the way she moved so gracefully. “It’s actually quite good. I don’t miss Sydney.” He didn’t miss the hectic pace of city life, the expectations he felt every time he stepped foot out the front door, or the constant media focus on his image. He’d loved his sport, but not so much the popularity and public scrutiny that came with it.

“I didn’t think you would,” Blayne said. “You never really were into the whole scene down here.” Blayne asked about Matt’s recovery, and the men were soon talking like old times. Matt wondered why he’d blocked his friend out to begin with. Despondency. Self-pity. Shame. That’s why. He hadn’t wanted to appear weak, or helpless, and he hadn’t wanted to burden anyone with his failings.

“You do know it’s over for me, right?”

“I know your running career is,” Blayne acknowledged, his tone softening. “But not everything is over.”

It could’ve been. Matt ran a hand through his hair with memories of his darkest moments invading his thoughts. It had been so tempting to swallow the entire bottle of pain medication and put an end to the nightmares, his pain, his disappointments. But guilt over Aunt Helen discovering him had soon put a stop to that. She deserved far more than dealing with the aftermath of his selfish behaviour. After all she’d done for him, the least he could do was try to pull himself out of the pit of misery he’d been dwelling in. He didn’t know what was next for him, or what making an effort actually looked like. With no future and no goals to focus on, it was hard enough to find the motivation to get out of bed each day. He wasn’t used to living such a quiet, empty life.

“You’re a hard man to get ahold of, Matt. I’ve been calling for weeks. Firstly, as your friend, because I’ve wanted to see how you’re doing. And secondly, as your manager, because I’ve booked you as a guest speaker at the State Athletics Awards Gala, which will be held in your neck of the woods.”

“You’ve what?” Matt exploded. He’d listened to Blayne’s previous messages inviting him along, but he never expected him to organise his life without his permission. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”

“It might be, but …”

“What could I possibly offer, Blayne?” He kicked at the ground, ignoring the pain shooting up his leg. What would it take to get through to this guy? He had nothing worthwhile to offer. Nothing worthwhile to say. Six months ago, he could’ve waxed lyrical about the importance of working hard and having visions and goals. Using the old cliché of staying in your own lane, staying focused, and not comparing to others. But now? He could barely get out of bed. His one big goal was to eat breakfast before midday. A close second was to have a shower at least every second day. They were hardly noteworthy subjects to share with an audience of elite athletes.

“Matt.” Blayne’s sigh reverberated in his ear. Resting his head in his hand, Matt watched ants scurry in and out of a nest near his foot. Even they had a purpose in their seemingly mundane life. What did he have? Crutches, gammy legs and chronic pain.

“This is not you,” Blayne continued. “This Grumpy Gus persona is not you at all. People miss you. People care about you, Matt. They want to see you and hear how you’re going. You’ve inspired a lot of people over your career, and given all you’ve been through, you’re still an inspiration now. Anyway, think it over. Sleep on it. I’ll be in touch again on Monday.”

The call ended and Matt clutched the phone between his hands as he continued staring at the ground.

“Is everything okay?” Brie’s leg brushed against his as she sat down on the bench. Any other time, he would cherish the brief contact. But it barely registered now. Not when Blayne’s words consumed his thoughts.

“Just my manager. He’s booked me as a guest speaker at an upcoming awards night.”

“That’s great!” Brie enthused before her smile wavered. “Isn’t it?”

“You’re kidding, right?” he deadpanned.

“What’s the problem?”

Did she not get it? How could everyone in his life be so blind? How could they not understand that he was an invalid and had absolutely nothing to offer? Closing his eyes, he shook his head. It was pointless trying to explain.

A delicate hand curled over his shoulder. Grateful for the comfort, he reached up and covered it with his own. He’d missed Brie’s touch. It had been weeks since he’d felt her hands on him. Sure, it had been strictly clinical during his treatment, but it now offered him a strength he didn’t possess.

“Matt.” The tenderness in the way she uttered his name gripped his heart like a vice. “If you think no one cares, you’re believing a lie. You are not what you do, or what you’ve done. Your accolades don’t make you who you are. You are so much more than your victories.”

He silently cursed in disagreement and shook his head. He was nothing without his career. Without his ability to run. Without the next competition or the next goal to aim for.

“The real Matt Dallimore is in here.” Her hand shifted off his shoulder and moved to the left side of his chest, just above his heart. Her palm lingered, burning through his thin cotton t-shirt, before she lowered it to her lap. Had she meant to touch him in such a manner? Or had it been another impulsive gesture, like patting Winston in the car on their first trip to the park? He wanted to grab her hand and place it back over his chest just so she could feel the effect she had on him. The strong thudding of his heart whenever she was near. Rocky chose at that moment to run over and place his head on Brie’s lap, ruining any temptation.

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