Chapter Twenty-One

MIKEY AND I were allowed back in the room after about forty minutes. Ambrose’s expression was unreadable. I didn’t know if he was angry or emotional or what, but I hurried to his side.

“You okay?” I whispered.

He nodded slightly.

The men moved through the house, and Ambrose was finally introduced to the women in the house. Tea was drunk, cake consumed, kids picked up and cuddled, and time whirled. Then finally Ambrose looked at his watch and said he had a doctor’s appointment to go to.

It was brilliant, because I don’t think they would’ve let him go for any other reason. But he was the mighty Bro-Jak, and he needed doctoring, so he was nearly carried to the car by the people surrounding him, and we were allowed to leave.

I heaved a huge sigh as we drove away.

“Well. That wasn’t too bad, right?”

“It was good. Thank you for being there.” His mood was somber, so I injected a note of happiness into my voice.

“You’re welcome. We have the rest of the day to ourselves now. What should we do? A nice jog in the park?”

I thought he’d laugh or at least tease me about not being able to jog, but instead he said, “I wasn’t lying about the appointment. It’s in West Perth.”

“What? When?”

“Twenty minutes.”

I checked my rearview mirror, swerved across two lanes, and pulled up at the lights to make the turn and head to the city.

I was peeved. “Did you think of maybe asking?” I huffed.

“Shane? Can you take me to West Perth to meet with a very expensive doctor about my knee?”

I took my eyes off the traffic light in front of me to glare at the man beside me. Then I missed the light turning green and was honked at from behind. I took off in a hurry with an avalanche of mutterings under my breath.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Ambrose said with a conciliatory note in his voice.

“It’s going to have to be a bloody good blow job,” I muttered, still upset as I merged into the traffic and headed toward the city. “Get the map out and tell me where I’m going.”

Ambrose chuckled and pulled up the map on his phone. “Another three sets of lights, and then turn right.” He scrolled the map a bit more and said, “And I wasn’t talking about a blow job. They’re free. I was thinking maybe we could go and buy you a new car this afternoon.”

“No.”

“Aww, come on, Shane. I earn a shitload of money, and I want to spend it on something that would make me happy. Maybe I ought to spend a whole bunch on some kids who just want to have a game of footy without wondering where the money for footy boots and uniforms is going to come from. But for now I want to spend it on you. I have a feeling some of my newfound family might be thinking I’ll bankroll them, so I want to spend it now.”

I didn’t even think of his new family wanting handouts. That was sad. “You still can’t buy me a car, Ambrose. I’m an adult, and I can pay for things in my own time. Right now I can’t afford a new car. I’m paying off my mortgage. The only people I would accept buying me a new car would be my mother, my unknown father—whoever he is—or my boyfriend if we’re committed to each other, not just casually dating.”

“So if I pay off your mortgage instead, you can buy yourself a car?”

I laughed in spite of myself. “No. That doesn’t work either.”

He sighed as though I had put him in a really awkward position. “You know, you never ask for much. How am I meant to make your dreams come true, then? You need to be in the left lane, then turn at the lights.”

My dreams come true? He would run the opposite way—run, despite the knee.

“It’s not your job to make my dreams come true, Ambrose.”

He directed me through a series of turns and then said, “If you could have one dream come true, right now, what would it be? And be serious.”

He told me the street number of the clinic. We found it on the right, and I turned into the underground car park and took a ticket from the machine. I waited until I stopped the car and turned to him.

“I’ve never dreamed big, Ambrose. You know that. I’m happy to live my life stuck in another world as I read a book. It’s not me to have wild dreams of being a pop star or the next J.K. Rowling. All my hopes in that direction are pointed at you. When I hope big, I hope that you make it big. I cheer for you in the games. I cheer for your team in the final. I sit on the edge of my seat, hoping you get points in the Brownlow. So if I had one dream right now, I’d probably wish your knee gets better really quick and you get back to playing. Because that’s what I want.”

The atmosphere in the car was thick, and there was no expression on Ambrose’s face. “You don’t hope for a promotion or a big house?”

I shook my head. “A bigger house would mean I’d have to clean more. And my job? It’s simply a job. Somewhere for me to go each day in order to earn money.”

“So, it wouldn’t matter to you if you had to move? Like if you went to Melbourne to live?”

My heart thumped loudly in my ears. I always thought your mouth dried in moments of stress, but I found the saliva pooling.

“Well, it would matter, because I would have to find a new job in Melbourne,” I said reasonably, not daring to give voice to the little burble of hope in the pit of my stomach. “I’m not sure how much being your personal chauffeur pays, but it doesn’t seem to be a lot at this moment.”

“I’m a big tipper,” he deadpanned. “You have no hopes for you? No big house or car?”

“No.”

“No wildly exciting job offer?”

“No.”

“No husband and kids and forevers?”

Okay. So I had thought about that. “Maybe one kid,” I said. “And the husband would have to come first, which isn’t going to happen, since Australians don’t have gay marriage at the moment.” There were rumblings around parliament about bringing in a law to allow it, but it hadn’t eventuated. The LGBT community was hoping they wouldn’t put it to a public vote, because that would invite a huge amount of homophobic people to have their say in the open community. “But a long-term partner would be nice. Someone to grow old with.”

“So that’s what you want? Someone to grow old with?”

Yeah, I was so the center of every party. “Someone to love me and who I could love back. It doesn’t need to be fireworks and bells and whistles. Just a quiet life with a man I can share my life with—someone who doesn’t mind me being me, which means I retreat into my books, hoard paperbacks, and buy Legolas figurines on eBay.”

“And this man you want to do this with? Does he have to enjoy the same life?”

My mouth fluttered in a hesitation of a smile. Didn’t he get it?

“No. I’m happy to cheer him on to his goals and tag along quietly behind as he goes chasing his dreams, as long as he comes back to me each night.”

Did he get what I was saying now?

“So your hopes are gay marriage being legal and me playing again?” His eyes held a shimmer of confusion.

“Yes. Oh, and maybe that Draco and Harry get together.”

Ambrose’s phone beeped twice, and it broke the spell. We were late to the appointment. We hurried to find the correct place and sat in the waiting room. When the doctor called Ambrose’s name, he stood and looked at me.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Surprised, I meekly followed him into the consulting room. I sat in a chair and held the crutches while Ambrose was interrogated and examined. I listened to the instructions and discovered Hawthorn’s team doctor had made a call to his friend in Western Australia on Saturday afternoon in order to fit Ambrose in today. It seemed that Ambrose had finally called Geoff, the team doctor, on Saturday while I was reading my book, and Geoff had called in a favor to have Ambrose seen by the specialist.

Ambrose was pronounced fit, healthy, and healing. The doctor was happy he wasn’t overdoing it, and we were free to make another appointment for the following week.

“Where to now?” I asked as we climbed back in my car.

“Lunch?”

“Sounds good.”

“And a bookstore,” Ambrose said firmly.

“What?”

He turned to me. “If I can’t buy you a car, then I’ll buy you lunch and some books. While you’re browsing the books, I’m going to have to think of ways to make your dreams come true.”

But which ones?

AMBROSE SHOULD’VE stuck to his guns and bought me a car. Letting me go into a bookstore and buy “whatever I wanted” was a dangerous promise.

I left him in a coffee shop with his back to the door and promised I would message him when I was ready for him to come and pay for my purchases. Then I forgot about him as I got lost in the wonder of words and strange worlds.

“Only nine? How stingy.”

I looked up at his voice. I was kneeling on the ground, checking out the first chapter of a book to see if I wanted it. Next to me was a pile of books I’d selected. I stopped and counted. Nine.

I got to my feet. “Shit. Sorry. I forgot about you.”

“And here I was thinking I was unforgettable to you. Come on. You’ve been here an hour, and I’m out of friends to text. Grab your nine books and that one you’re holding, because ten sounds like enough books, and let’s go home.”

The total was over $250, but… well, books.

I happily walked beside Ambrose with my two large carrier bags full of what would hopefully be wonderful words.

“You’re too easy to please,” Ambrose said teasingly.

“Says the man who came before I was ready for him last night,” I teased back.

“Take it as a compliment. You were too good,” Ambrose grumbled with a slight blush.

I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t get to take it at all, which was what I was complaining about.”

The blush spread farther down his neck. “Just wait until I’m mobile again. The boot will be on the other foot then.”

“Can’t wait.”

Back home there was a marked change in Ambrose. He seemed… happy, not depressed or aimless anymore. I ran over the events of the day.

He’d met his grandfather and family. He’d finally gone to the doctor. He’d messaged his friends back. He’d bought me books.

Which one had made the difference?

Then his phone began to ring every thirty minutes. I heard him talk to Sean and then to Geoff. But the fifth call was from his coach. He groaned, told me who it was, and then limped outside without his crutches to talk. They chatted for a long while.

When he came back, he collapsed onto the couch.

“That bad?” I commiserated.

Ambrose ran his hands over his face. “Nah. He’s actually really good. He’s set up an appointment for me to go and talk to a psychologist. Apparently it’s pretty standard. It’s the first big injury I’ve had, and they like to keep an eye on the mental well-being of their players. He also wants me to go back to Melbourne, be a part of the team.”

My heart sank.

“Are you going to go?”

He looked at me. “I don’t know, Shane. I really don’t know.”