We breezed through our quarter finals, and Waller looked like he may forgive us all for the stress we'd put him under. The Lion kept quiet, kept his head down and played some of the best cricket he'd produced all season. That fat sweaty man who'd insisted he apologise publicly for something he didn't do was in the stands clapping away alongside his VIP guests. I threw him daggers with my eyes, but he was so self-obsessed he appeared not to notice.
After the game, Sammy and Scarlett bounded down the steps to the barrier above my seat. "Hey, get us down." Sammy waved at me, his cheeks were flushed and his freckles stood out under the floodlights.
Laughing, I stood and waved back. "I can lift you. I don't know about her." I waved at Scarlett who'd surprised me by turning up without her usual make-up, and wearing shorts and converse.
"Here, let me help them over." Bailey stepped up.
"Ooh." I tried to pull him back, but he was already there dragging Sammy over and then casting his dark eyes over Scarlett. She flushed and ducked her head as he leant over the railing, gripped tight under her armpits and hauled her over. Her face went very pale, and for a moment I thought I was going to witness her swooning, until she pulled it together, thanked him and then came to my side.
"Wow, he's solid," she whispered.
"Scarlett!"
"What? I'm sixteen. It's not like I don't know anything."
I shook my head. When I'd been sixteen, all I'd cared about was catching a cricket ball, preferably when it was hit by someone who never expected to get caught. I blocked the ancient memory and focused on the now.
I turned my eyes to Sammy who was running out into the pitch, his beeline direct for the man pulling a batting helmet off his golden hair. My heart gave a little lurch as I watched him wrap his arms around his waist and the Lion squeezed him back. Speckled blue eyes flickered in my direction, but I turned my back on them.
Scarlett started trailing the players back to the changing room, so I grabbed her by the elbow and kept her tight by my side. "Come on. I'll introduce you to Gemma and the team," I said steering away from where Bailey's tight buttocks were walking in front of her encased in hot pink cricket pants.
"Sammy," I shouted after the little guy, but he was on the shoulders of the Lion leading the jubilant team back into the base.
Shit. I tried to avoid looking at their retreating forms too closely.
The girl’s room was loud. The quarter-final win was snapping through the air like electricity. Gemma grabbed my arm and whirled me around, waving a pompom in my face which I batted away before it made me sneeze. "Think they'll give us all a pay rise next season?"
I shrugged. "You can only ask. You guys know your stuff."
Scarlett was standing there with her mouth gaping open as the girls paraded around in a state of undress, high fiving each other and all sorts. Maybe there was no safe changing room in the vicinity. "Are you coming for a drink?" Gemma called as she pulled a pale hoodie over her head and shook out her hair.
"Nope, I have parental responsibility this evening."
Scarlett groaned. "We could just go for one coke?" she suggested.
"Absolutely not. I promised your mum I'd have you home."
Gemma grinned and gave Scarlett a hug. "You dance by any chance?" she asked.
"No!" I replied on her behalf and dragged her away.
I didn't want to go into the male dressing room in case I had to make small talk with the captain. I didn't think we had any small talk left to make. I was relieved when Bailey was walking out the door, his wet hair standing on end. "Ah, Bailey, can you grab Sammy for me."
"You could go in there, you normally do." He frowned at me like I was most odd.
"Sure, but I don't normally have a sixteen-year-old under my care." Bailey's eyes skimmed over Scarlett. For god's sake what was wrong with him? She was four years younger than him. Then I thought of the previous night and the Lion and I and what we could do together, and he was eleven years older than me. What would have happened if he'd looked at me like that when I was sixteen?
Bad press, that's what.
And he hadn’t.
Bailey retrieved Sammy for me. He had yet more signed accessories and clothing draped over him. In his hand, he clutched a bat. I recognised the signature in pink sharpie right away. Bugger.
On our way out, me dragging a grumbling and somewhat over excitable sixteen-year-old in my wake I knocked on Waller's door. "Yep." He sounded tired and when I cranked open the door he was shuffling papers.
"You 'kay coach?" I asked.
"Define okay, and I'll let you know." He gave me a wane smile.
"Don't forget I'm not here Monday afternoon."
"I won't. Have fun, Lyssa."
I went to close the door and backed straight into the firm body of the Lion. “Where are you Monday afternoon?" His gaze was hard and unrelenting, the planes of his face tightening into a scowl.
"Busy," I said, and when I saw those blues shutter behind slow lids and I knew it was me who was twisting this into something ugly. I didn’t see how this could now be any other way. Being this close to him, was too hard, it was clouding me, confusing me of my goal. It was a mess and then a pile of mess on top of it.
"Fine." His face closed off.
"Have a good weekend, Willis," I said, practically running for the door.
Saturday was amazing, ball in the garden and another walk for Jasper who looked like he may have some form of doggy orgasm when he realised he was getting treated to another trip around the duck pond.
Sammy and I ate ice cream, swapping halfway through because we both wanted the other ones flavour.
At five, my mum and dad arrived.
"Hey, sugar.” Dad squeezed me into his chest. "Good win yesterday."
"Mm." I couldn't even bring myself to summon any enthusiasm. I hadn't felt any when I was there watching the game and I still couldn't find any when nearly twenty-four hours had passed. All I could summon were the fractures of my broken heart when I considered the fact I'd accidentally fallen in love with the captain.
Dad's eyes narrowed as he searched my face. "What?"
Shaking my head I pulled him into the kitchen, "It's nothing, nothing at all, how was your flight?"
Dad groaned. "Your mum talked to the poor young man sitting next to us the whole way."
I grinned. Mum loved a captive audience, and you didn't get more captive then stuck on a plane with the seatbelt sign on. "Oh, blimey, did you apologise?" I asked, holding in a bubbling giggle.
He looked at me in surprise when he heard the noise escape my lips, but then carried on regardless. "I had to buy the guy a drink. It was the least I could do."
I peered out of the door. "Where is she?"
"Inspecting the garden."
I cringed. I hadn't done anything in the garden apart from play catch with the former England captain. If Dad knew that, he'd probably never let me mow the lawn again.
Dad slung his arm around, "So what's happening at the Red Cats? You guys are going to win right? Don't tell me I've flown all this way for nothing."'
I tilted my head and grinned at all his drama. "All this way, it's like an hour, Dad."
"That's a very long time to sit and listen to your mother prattle on."
I did giggle then, although I flushed once the sound escaped my mouth, because I loved both my parents equally really. "I think we should win," I said, turning the conversation back away from my poor mother and onto the Red Cats.
"What's wrong?"
I hesitated and then decided to stick to the path I'd chosen as I'd walked around the duck pond holding Sammy's hand just earlier that day. "Can we talk about it tomorrow? I don't want to ruin the whole weekend."
His face clouded and I knew I'd probably just ruined it anyway. You see cricket was in the Rivers blood, anything less than that wasn't feasible.
We pottered about all afternoon; mum dragged me out into the garden and showed me how to prune roses, for the hundredth time. I kept turning expecting to see a silver SUV pull onto the driveway, but it never did.
Goodbye really was goodbye.
That evening Maria, her husband and Scarlett joined us for a BBQ, and I served chilled wine into tumblers, while painting a smile onto my face. When we scattered around the lawn on deckchairs in the growing dusk I asked if they'd all be able to join me for a family dinner the next day. I was going to cook. Maria looked horrified but also split with pride when she saw me include her in my family. I squeezed her hand, how could the woman who kept my life running smoothly be anything else?
The next day at one in the afternoon, our family extended just like I'd arranged when the doorbell rang and Vanessa's parents stepped awkwardly over the threshold. They were followed ten minutes later by Betsy.
You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife, but as I explained after I'd sent the little guy on a hunt for more dips, it was time for us to change, for his sake. If we weren't happy then how could he be?
I cleared my throat and stood, my attention focused on my dad who sat looking at the table, his face telling me he knew what was coming. "That's why I am going to quit the team," I explained to a deathly silence that fell around the table that was so quiet you could have heard clouds flutter by. "Coaching isn't for me, and while I know I have support and could maybe play again, it's not what my heart is telling me. It's telling me there is something else for me, some things that I'd never allowed myself to consider because of cricket." I tried to articulate my heart but knew I'd failed.
Dad exploded out of his seat, his hand jamming into the pockets of his slacks. "This is crazy. Is this because of that Jase Willis and what the papers were saying?"
I flushed. "No, that was just gossip."
"But? You've never had a problem before." His face was a livid red. "When you've been with a team where he wasn't the captain, that is."
What was I supposed to say to that? No, because they were girls? Betsy smirked, and I threw daggers with my eyes in her direction.
"It's nothing to do with that," I cried, wishing my cheeks weren't quite so livid with a burning heat. "This is about Sammy and me." Mum tutted, and I corrected myself. "Sammy and I."
Blythe twirled her wine glass inspecting the translucent colour of the pale wine in her glass that had been smuggled into the country via the safety of my parent's suitcases. "What do you want?" Her gaze was intent on my face.
My shoulders grazed my ears, and I harpooned the table with my nail. "I don't know."
Betsy waved her beer bottle at me. "You know what you want."
I flushed.
She flashed me a wicked smirk. "Fun."
"Okay. But I don't think I'm going to have fun making sure other people are fit enough to play." My mouth turned down, and my stomach clenched when I thought of shoulders that were injured and that I didn't know how to fix because all I did know was how to hit a ball with a bat. "It's not the same as playing. I know that now, but then I also know I can't do that anymore..."
Betsy coughed, her fingers drumming on the table top. "Okay, I'm not playing devil’s advocate here," she flashed her trademark top lip curl. "Okay I am, but here. This is for you."
She pulled an envelope out of her pocket and slid it across the table top. It was sealed, plain white, with my name in type across the front. I went to collect it, lifting it into ready to break the seal but she placed her hand over mine. "Wait till later, hey?"
I shrugged. This was all cryptic.
Blythe waved her glass again. "You know we are moving here to be more hands on, Lys. Why don't you wait until everything is more settled?"
Mum's jaw hit the decking. "They are what?"
I grimaced, "Colin and Blythe want to move closer so they can see Sammy and help," I explained.
Mother’s face was painted with a vibrant shade of displeasure. "But, we can move, and help too."
I sighed and rubbed at my brow. Was it me or was the evening sweatier than normal. "But you don't need to. I told you that a year ago."
"Well clearly you need help," Mum snapped, my retort was stinging on the tip of my tongue when Sammy came running back around the corner. I leant forward and hissed. "No, Mum, I just didn't know what I wanted before."
She sank her wine. "And what exactly is that?"
"Life."
And there it was, the one thing I never knew I wanted. A life of my own.