Chapter Sixteen
Two weeks later, Kyle wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel this miserable. He was wrong.
He was so miserable, not even playing rugby for the Sydney Smoke helped. In fact, that suffered, too. Between him and Griff snapping and snarling at each other and everyone else, they’d lost two games in a row, taking them from the top of the ladder to just scraping into the top eight going through to the finals comp.
Rugby had been his all since he’d been identified as talented by a scout at the age of fifteen. And now everything was going to hell. He was dropping balls and missing tackles and each step on the field was like pushing against a hurricane, his muscles screaming, his lungs howling, his heart dying.
Kyle’s first instinct that dreadful day had been to rush to Val’s side. Go to her flat, belt on her door, make her hear him out. And he had. But she’d refused to open the door. Refused to even answer him, and he’d left, his brain stewing on ways he could make her listen, make her see he’d chosen rugby for her.
But, once his fervour had cooled, he realised it was better this way. For Val.
A quick, decisive blow.
Of course, he’d have preferred for it to have not happened at all, to have bided their time, kept things quiet until the end of the season, waiting for her to work her magic with her father. Griff had definitely given her an in, and there was no way he’d be able to hold out long against the sheer delight and determination of his daughter.
But it had. And her thinking the worst of him was probably for the best now. Because when Griff had lowered his voice and looked at him with anguished eyes that day in his office and said please, please give me space to get to know my daughter again, Kyle understood what it had taken, and he knew he couldn’t stand in the man’s way. As someone who was used to giving his all to family no matter the circumstances, how could he not sacrifice for Val? For the woman he loved?
So he’d chosen rugby. For Griff. For Val. For the reconciliation she’d been yearning for these past twenty years. He’d done it automatically, without thinking, out of practise and muscle memory. It had been a reflex. It had been utterly stupid. He should have talked to her about it, but it was done now.
Sure, she was mad at Griff at the moment, but he knew the prospect of their coming together would be too great a pull for Val. For a girl who’d craved her father’s love her entire life.
Eventually she’d start talking to her dad again. And that’d be easier if Kyle wasn’t around. He wouldn’t risk screwing things up just because it felt like he was dying. Maybe one day…who knew? After things were solid between Griff and Val.
Maybe then?
His mother had urged him on the phone to go for it. To get her back. But he loved Val too much to mess with her finding the happiness she craved with her father.
His cousin, on the other hand…
Every time Kyle thought about Danny, he wanted to punch things. He knew it was Danny. He didn’t have any proof. But he knew it as surely as night followed day. Should have known that day at the party, when he’d told his cousin he wasn’t going to support his bid to get back into rugby, that Danny wouldn’t take it lying down.
Because that was exactly the entitled little turd drugs and too many yes-men had turned him into.
Unfortunately, his cousin had gone to ground. No doubt with his shady mates, snorting those thirty pieces of silver up his nose.
Kyle was still heavily mired in his misery by the middle of the third week when he headed back to the locker room after training. They were in the week off between the end of the regular season and the start of the final season but, of course, Griff was riding them hard all the way to the end.
Probably not a bad thing, considering their two losses.
Every muscle in Kyle’s body protested. Everything ached. But it was nothing compared to the hot ball of ache burning in the centre of his chest. So mired was he, Kyle didn’t hear Tanner calling Griff into the room or notice the entire room going silent, until Tanner spoke his name.
Kyle glanced over his shoulder and stiffened as Griff stood there, glaring at the guys all standing in a huddle, their arms folded.
“What’s this bullshit?” Griff demanded.
“It’s an intervention,” Linc, about the only guy who wasn’t looking deadly serious, announced proudly.
“Looks more like a mutiny to me,” Griff said, his voice a low growl, his lips stiff, back erect.
Kyle had to hand it to Griff, he sure knew how to intimidate. He’d known it as a player, too. But Tanner and the team stood their ground. Which spoke volumes about the level of frustration they were all feeling at the moment.
“Either you two stay in here and sort your shit out, or the rest of us—every single one of us—will walk.” Griff snorted. But Tanner didn’t blink. “We’re serious, Griff. This crap has got to stop.”
Griff’s jaw tightened, but Kyle could tell he was listening. The coach had a good relationship with his captain, and Kyle knew they had a deep and abiding mutual respect.
“You two are out of control,” Tanner continued, eyeing them both in turn. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re about to go into a finals season, which you two almost lost us the chance of getting into.”
“We’ll be fine.” The set of Griff’s jaw matched the tone of his voice—steely. He was as big and hard and cold as a slab of granite, standing there staring down the team who loved him like a father. “You’ve all just gotta give a bit more.”
“More?” Tanner laughed, and it sounded weary as hell. “Us bleeding all over the field is not going to sort this shit out between you and him.” Tanner stabbed a finger in Kyle’s direction. “And it’s not going to repair your relationship with Val.”
Kyle wouldn’t have thought it possible for Griff to get any stiffer, but he did, his lips flattening into a thin line.
“That mess is on you, and it’s high fucking time you did some bleeding of your own.”
There was a collective indrawn breath at Tanner’s bold statement. Kyle didn’t think any of the team had called Griff to account over his treatment of Val before. If there had ever been any doubt that the Smoke captain had balls, this proved it unequivocally.
Big. Brass. Balls.
“We’re going,” Tanner continued, not giving Griff a chance to respond. “And we’re locking the door after us. So forget coming out until this is over. Or one of you is dead.”
The team filed out.
The door shut, then locked, and Griff, his hands clenched into fists, rounded on Kyle. “This is your fault.”
Unlike the first time Griff and Kyle had argued in Griff’s office, Kyle was in no mood to hold back, to keep his temper in check. He was tired, and there wasn’t one part of his body that wasn’t bitching at him. But it was his heart—about as broken as was humanly possible—that was up for a fight.
He had enormous respect for Griff as a player and a coach, but Tanner was right. This thing wasn’t about rugby. It wasn’t about Kyle Leighton. It was about so much more. No matter the reasons, Griff had been a lousy father, and if he couldn’t see his fractious relationship with his daughter was at the bottom of all this, it was about time somebody made him see.
“No.” Kyle’s heart was pounding in his chest, his lungs tight, every muscle tensed as his body went into Neanderthal mode. This showdown had been a long time coming. And now that it was here, he wasn’t backing down from it. “It’s your fault.”
Griff bristled with barely-suppressed rage, testosterone pouring off him in waves. But Kyle knew, without a doubt, he was also pumping it out.
There was enough of it in the room to kill an entire paddock of bulls.
Griff took three paces, until he was close enough to take a swing if he wanted. Kyle was pretty damn sure he wanted. Instead he held up his index finger and practically shoved it in Kyle’s face.
“I have one rule.” Kyle swore he could hear Griff’s teeth grinding behind the grim slash of his mouth. “Stay away from my daughter. And you”—he poked Kyle so hard in the chest that he staggered back a step—“just couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you?”
Kyle wasn’t going to repeat the obvious rebuttal that he hadn’t known who Val was when he’d first slept with her. Because, truth be told, he’d have probably done it anyway. She’d had him by the balls from that first night.
“Why do you even care?” Kyle demanded. For a man who’d wanted nothing to do with his daughter, he seemed to care a hell of a lot about who she was seeing.
Griff poked him again, harder. But Kyle was prepared for it this time, absorbing the shock of it without losing his footing.
“Because I know what goes on in the filthy mind of a bunch of jocks. I was one. And I want her to be with a guy who will treat her with respect. And because I love her,” he roared.
“Could have fooled me.” Kyle knew that Griff had made some serious effort these last few weeks. But playing nice now didn’t let him off all his past bullshit. And Kyle was dying to call him on it.
“When you get older, Leighton, you’ll understand that there’s more than one way to love a person.”
“That’s bullshit. Not your kid. There’s only one way to love a kid.” His family might be a big loud rabble, but hell, at least they knew how to love each other. “All your love-you-from-a-distance-with-my-wallet crap did was fuck her up.”
Kyle was done pulling his punches. Everything was amped up inside him. He was pumped. Blood pounded through his chest and his head and his loins. Provoking Griff wasn’t a smart move, but somebody had to. The truth was, they’d been spoiling for this fight since the night he’d slept with Val. He poked Griff for good measure. His finger practically bounced off the granite wall of his chest.
Griff pushed him hard in response, and Kyle staggered back again. “She’s fine,” he growled.
Kyle laughed. “She’s not fine. Hell, man, you didn’t kill just one kid that day. You killed two.”
Kyle knew he’d stepped over the line even before he saw the flash of white-hot heat in Griff’s gaze a split second before he took a swing. It was enough warning to be able to move directly out of the line of fire, enough for the big fist to merely strike a glancing blow to the cheekbone rather than smash into it fully, the force driving him back into the lockers behind with a loud bang.
And then it was as if the oxygen in the room suddenly ignited, a flare of heat vaporising the thick fugue of testosterone in a blinding flash. Something exploded inside Kyle’s chest—outrage, about a hundred suppressed conversations he hadn’t had with Griff, and a wounded kind of desperation to make a stand for Val.
He charged at Griff, grabbing him by the shirt and pushing him back, back, back, into some more lockers, a harsh metallic screech renting the air as the lockers travelled a foot at the impact. But as soon as he had his feet, Griff was pushing back and swinging again.
Kyle swung, too, landing a hard punch against Griff’s shoulder. He hadn’t intentionally targeted the area, but Kyle remembered it was that shoulder which had forced Griff into retirement a decade ago. Griff winced but shook it off quickly, returning fire with a quick jab to the ribs, which momentarily sucked Kyle’s breath away.
Clearly the man didn’t care about maiming his most valuable player, which only made Kyle madder.
And so it went on, the two of them pushing and shoving and grunting, occasionally landing a jab here or there, until they were both sweating and panting. Kyle didn’t know where the energy had come from, but he did know it was flagging fast, and that a guy twenty years older than him was a more than able opponent.
Their fight had moved into the more open area now, away from the lockers. Griff took a swing at Kyle’s head, sweat flying in a spray as he did so. Kyle ducked, and he missed, but the punch had a shitload of momentum, turning Griff around, accidentally shoulder-checking Kyle on the follow-through, and they both staggered and fell, landing on the hard floor, sprawled on their backs.
Neither of them moved for long moments, and the only sound was the noise of laboured breathing. “Christ.” Griff groaned as he lifted an arm and rotated it. “You almost dislocated my fucking shoulder.”
“Yeah, well…” Kyle grabbed his side. “I’m pretty sure you cracked a couple of ribs, so consider us even.” All the rage and fight that had torn through his body was suddenly gone. “I’m sorry. About what I said.” Kyle believed it, but he’d said it to provoke a response, and that had been wrong. “It was a low blow.”
Griff didn’t say anything for the longest time. When he did, their breathing had almost returned to normal.
“Maybe. But it was the truth. I’ve just been too busy burying my head in the sand to see how much I was hurting her.”
Kyle had never heard anything but strength in Griff’s voice. To hear defeat didn’t give him any pleasure. “I love her. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”
More silence, followed by a groan as Griff slowly eased himself into a sitting position. “No you don’t.”
Kyle stared at the back of Griff’s head. Christ, he was a hard-ass. “Yes I fucking do.”
“No.” Griff looked over his shoulder at Kyle, his big hand enveloping the injured joint as if he was trying to hold it together. “You’d be with her if you loved her.”
Fuck. Was this guy for real? “And whose fault is it that I’m not?”
Griff gave a soft snort, turning away from Kyle. “You losing Valerie isn’t my fault. If you really loved her, you would have told me to shove my ultimatum up my ass. You’d have picked her. But you chose rugby, instead, doofus. Just like I did.”
Kyle vaulted into a sitting position, holding his ribs, gritting his teeth against the sharp stab of pain. “I only did that because you looked me in the eye that day in your office and asked me to step aside. Because she was finally connecting with you, and I didn’t want to be some kind of burr between you, keeping you from reconciling.”
Griff glanced sideways at him, his look assessing. Kyle was pretty sure he saw admiration in the man’s eyes. “But she doesn’t know that, does she?”
“No.”
“So go and tell her. If you really love her, go and tell her. Go and get her back.”
Kyle blinked. Wait. Griff was giving him permission? “I…have your blessing?”
“Well, you wouldn’t be my choice, but my daughter knows her own mind. Always has. Just because I haven’t been a very good father in the past doesn’t mean I can’t pull my head out of my ass. And Tanner’s right. We can’t keep going like this. We have a final to win, and now you’re finally passing the fucking ball, we might just do it.”
A laugh bubbled up Kyle’s throat and escaped. He didn’t expect to be laughing with Griff so soon after they’d been trying to beat the living hell out of each other. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to go get her back. And we’re going to win.”
“Good.” Griff nodded. “One thing I have learned over the years is that winning is empty if there’s no one special to share it with.”
Kyle had never felt sorry for Griff before. He didn’t have to know the man well to know that he didn’t want anyone’s pity. But Kyle did pity him in this moment. He could suddenly see years of loneliness in the great man’s eyes and hear the echo of desolation in his voice.
They might have all been of his own making, but that didn’t make it any less sad.
Kyle pushed to his feet, the pain in his ribs suddenly insignificant. He held out his hand to Griff, who shook his head on a grimace. It wasn’t a snub. More the gesture of someone who needed to sit for a little longer.
“Wish me luck.”
Griff nodded. “You’re going to need it.”