I stared down at the dozen or so paint tins on the ground and shook my head. I should’ve listened to my dad when he said to hire a painter in. This was going to take me forever to finish.

Two weeks ago we thought this place would be nothing but a pile of rubble and dust. My dad still hadn’t told me how he managed to pull it off, but he had. The warehouse now belonged to me. He’d signed it over the day after he’d transferred the funds, with the promise that it was looked after. He’d waved me off when I’d offered to pay him rent on the place, saying that there was no way he’d accept money from my trust fund. I didn’t argue with him. I was still buzzing that Mel got to keep the place she loved so much. But it came with a responsibility I hadn’t even considered when I’d asked him to buy it. The place was a disaster zone. A lick of paint was nothing compared to the structure of the building and numerous electrical faults. I was in over my head but more determined than ever to get it finished. I’d hardly seen Mel this past week, working all hours through the night to get it finished. She had no idea the place still existed. She was still under the impression that it was long gone and refused to come back only to find a pile of dust left in its wake. I was thankful she hadn’t stopped by because I planned on waiting until the warehouse had a full refurb before she did. I didn’t have much more to go on it, maybe a few more hours. I wanted it to be a surprise, and so long as nothing went drastically wrong between now and tomorrow, I could bring her here after the game. I couldn’t wait to see her face when she realised what I’d done to the place. I only hoped she liked it because there was no way I was changing it again.

I was finishing the last section of cutting in when Riley pushed through the door. He looked like he was auditioning for a remake of Top Gun with his leather jacket, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, and that lazy swagger he generally saved for a night out.

“Ya know, I thought you were having me on when you told me what you’d done. Shit, man, you weren’t kidding.”

“If you’re here to help, fine, grab a brush. If not, fuck off. I haven’t got time for your shit today.”

“Whoa!” he said, tossing his hands in the air. “Why you pissed at me for?”

Swiping the back of my hand across my forehead, I sighed. “I’m not. I just really want to get this finished for her.”

“Don’t you think this is a little extreme? I mean, date the girl, bang her, whatever, but this… buying her a damn warehouse?”

Pushing the end of the brush between my teeth, I picked away at a stray bristle that lodged its way between a small groove in the coving. “What you getting at, Rye?”

“Aren’t you worried she’ll be creeped out by it?” I turned my head and saw the frown on his face. I hated that I had to justify everything I did. I’m sure if it was for Brie he would’ve done the same.

“It’s not like I’m asking her to marry me or anything.”

“No, but the rate you’re going it won’t be long before you get down on your knee and ask her. All I’m saying is be careful. You’ve been together, how long?”

I shrugged. “A few weeks.”

“Six? Seven?” he asked, raising both palms up.

“Eight. Not that it matters.” I wanted to tell him it had been the best eight damn weeks of my entire life, but I didn’t. He’d only say what the rest of them were thinking. I was rushing into it. Diving head first into something without knowing what it was I was diving into. I’d already had a lecture from my mum about taking it slow, making sure Melanie was really the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I kept telling her that she was worrying over nothing, but I could see the concern on her face. It didn’t matter what I said, she’d worry anyway.

“Eight weeks. Right…” Rye said, reminding me he was still there.

I quirked a brow and lowered myself down from the ladder. “You got something to add to that?”

“I don’t know, mate. I just think it’s too soon for heavy shit like this.”

“Well then, stop thinking and start working. I told you, I’m doing this for her with or without your help.”

Riley sighed, shook his head, and grabbed a tray and roller. “Fine, I’ll help, but I’m going right over there,” he said, gesturing to the far wall that was half grey and half white. “Your grumpy arse is putting me in a bad mood. Hopefully you’ll use some of that aggression out on the field tomorrow.” Then he fucked off to the other side of the room, leaving me in peace.

That feeling. That indescribable feeling you get around the locker room when you’re winding down before a game, is a feeling so strong that you find yourself swept up in the emotion of every single team member around you. The quiet breaths, the silent prayers you send to the big man upstairs as you wish for the game of your lives. Then the energetic buzz from every angle as the coach blows his whistle, signalling the beginning of what you know will be a game you’ll always remember. All I needed was my girl in the stands watching me win this game, and my life would be complete.

She’d called to say she was running late, working on the design for the competition. I told her not to rush. That it was fine if she couldn’t make it. I could hear the emotion in her voice at the thought that she might miss it, but I’d reassured her that there would be other games and to concentrate on finishing the design. I’d see her after the game. She’d reluctantly agreed, wished me good luck and hung up the phone. But fuck if I didn’t want her here now. I wanted her with me all the damn time.

Riley flung his arm around my shoulder as we made our way through the tunnel and out onto the pitch.

“Let’s tear these arseholes a new one.” He grinned before squeezing my shoulder and jogging up ahead.

I nodded, even though he could no longer see me, and pressed my mouth to the tips of my fingers before I dragged them across the touchline. I was showing my respect for the game, asking God to bless the ground beneath my feet. Some kissed their badges for good luck, showing their respect for their team, others knelt on the ground as they came out of the tunnel, but me? That was my thing. It always had been. Even after my injury, I made sure that that one small gesture never changed.

I angled my head towards the sky and breathed in. When I lowered them again, a firm hand clasped my shoulder, roughly. “Hey, Knight?” I jerked my head to the side and raised my brows before eyeing the hand that was on my shoulder. I’d never seen the kid before, but he obviously knew who I was. And I’d say that whatever he thought about me couldn’t have been good.

When I shrugged out of his grip, he raised a brow, a cock-sure grin spreading across his face. “Fancy a little wager on today’s match?”

I shook my head and grinned. “No, ta. If it’s money you’re after, I’m pretty sure that geezer with the red hat over there… see him?” I pointed. “I heard he’s taking bets on today’s game. Mind you, odds aren’t in your favour but if you wanna give it a shot…”

“Who said anything about money?” He snarled.

“I’d give you the shirt off my back, but it’s a bit chilly out,” I goaded.

“How about, if you win, I’ll let you walk out of here in one piece.”

I chucked my head back and laughed. “And if you win?”

“I get your girl for the night. Heard she likes it rough. Right little slapper, apparently. Wouldn’t mind tapping it myself. I hear she’s good.”

I drew in a breath and shook my head. The kid was asking for trouble. Any other time, I would’ve shut him the fuck up, but I had too much riding on this game. There were scouts in the stands watching every single one of us. I couldn’t let some jacked up dickhead ruin my chances of getting back in the game.

“Sorry, mate. I’d rather give up my balls for life than ever risk sharing that trophy with anyone, never mind a low league loser like yourself. But feel free to imagine me making her moan all night when you’re at home with your right hand and some Vaseline later, yeah.” His eyes fixed on mine, unmoving, and I leaned in. “Especially when she’s calling me God. That’s a real dick twitching moment right there.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. I wasn’t even sure the bellend had one.

We were drawing at halftime, struggling to find a gap to create chances. We were holding our own, but they were all over us during the last ten minutes of the first half. Coach insisted we continue playing as we were, even though Riley pointed out that the weak link in our team—some new lad called Banks—needed to be subbed if we stood any chance at winning the game. Knowing we needed to make the most of what we had, we went back onto the field already feeling defeated.

Usually, I could tell who was going to win by the time first half was over. For once, though, I couldn’t call it. I hated knowing that we could so easily lose the game.

I blew out a breath as I took my midfield position. Mel still hadn’t arrived. She was the first person I looked for when we came out of the tunnel. The dickhead that instigated a wager was pressed heavily to my side, blocking me from making any moves that might lose his team the win. I was thankful Mel wasn’t around to watch it. I knew it would make her nervous if she suspected there was something going on.

I had no idea what the kid’s problem was. I’d never even seen him before. But it was obvious during the first half that he was looking for trouble, and I had done my best to avoid confrontation up until then.

Riley right-footed the ball across me, and I slid to the side, threw my arm out to shrug the dickhead off my back and attempted to find a clear path to pass the ball.

“You’re meant to run with it,” he breathed down my neck, his menacing laugh only fuelling my anger.

When he clipped my back heel, causing me to buckle, I quickly righted myself. “What the fuck’s your problem?” I forced out, pushing my hands to his chest.

“Whoa!” He smirked, tossing his hands in the air. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Riley wedged himself between us, gripping my shoulders as his eyes bored into mine. “Back away, J. He’s not worth it.”

“The fuck he’s not,” I gritted out.

Riley raised his brows and said, “You wanna get back at him?”

I nodded once. What kind of question was that? Of course I fucking did. The dick was asking for a beating from the moment we stepped out onto the field.

“Then let’s win this fucking game.” Then he tore off down the field, claimed his position, and waited for the free kick to come in.

I reached for the dirty ball, twirled it between my fingers and lowered it to the ground as I waited for the whistle. When it came, I blew out a breath and shot the ball straight to Riley. It curled past a couple of defenders and aimed straight for his chest. Riley arched his back, letting it fall to his feet, then he fired in the shot.

Then everything happened at once.

The ball shot through the back of the net, the crowd erupted around us and I crumbled to the ground, crying out in pain as white lights flashed in front of my eyes. I jerked my head back and clutched the back of my knee. I didn’t have to look down to know it was bad. The immense pain was something I’d never experienced before. Each bout of pain sent a wave of nausea through me and I was certain that at any moment I would vomit.

It was at least forty seconds before anyone realised I was down. One look at Riley’s pale face and I knew it was worse than I thought. I laid back, my hand still clutching the back of my knee as people rushed back and forth, wondering what the hell had just happened. I could only close my eyes and breathe through the pain, hoping to God I would pass out before the pressure got any worse.