Chapter Eleven
It had taken all of Gareth’s resolve not to go, on bended knee, and beg Emily to forgive him, to forget what he had said, to give him another chance, but he had stayed strong.
Strong and abjectly miserable.
Training had not helped, had not lessened the pain. Not wanting to be around anyone or to have to explain his mood, Gareth had kept a low profile. He had gone straight home after training, hidden out in his cave of misery, pretended it would be all right, that he would eventually feel better, get over Emily. He especially had not wanted to be around Pippa. Not only would she have picked up on his misery immediately, but her life was so happy now. She and Rook were always giving each other loving glances, cuddling and kissing, and had their hands on each other constantly. Gareth hadn’t thought he could take it, the constant reminder of how things should be with him and Emily.
So he was looking forward to the day’s game—couldn’t wait to take the field, wanted to pour out his frustrations on the opposition. He could already imagine the feel of running the ball up into a wall of defence, craved the pain that would be inflicted on his body under the punishing demands of the full-body contact sport. Any other type of pain would be better than the one that had taken up residence in his heart and mind.
As he entered the team room to prepare for the game, Gareth tried to fully focus on the task ahead of him. He needed to have his head completely in the game—a distraction of any kind on the field could result in injury. He had to know where to place his body, in what position to have his head when he went in for a tackle. Hit a guy’s hip or knee the wrong way, and he could find himself stretchered off the field with cartoon birds buzzing around his melon.
One of the first things he noticed was the cold shoulder he was getting from Pippa. Normally she would be at him the second he entered the changing room, wanting to strap his hamstrings or tape his ankles, but today she was flitting around well out of his reach. He actually had to go looking for her to get his pre-match preps done.
“Hey, Pippa, got time for me yet?” Gareth had tried to make the comment sound easy-going, a lighthearted request, but it had come out more like a grumble. He really had to get his act together, stop being so down.
“Oh, Gareth, you’re here. Yeah, I’ll get you done next. Grab the empty table.”
It really wasn’t his imagination—Pippa was acting strange, distracted. Gareth hoped it had nothing to do with Rook, hoped she was just put out that he hadn’t been around.
“Everything all right, Pippa? You and Rook all good?” He tried to make conversation, but Pippa wouldn’t meet his eyes, kept her head down busily while she worked on his ankle tape.
“Yep.”
Her one-word reply really unnerved him. It must be because I’ve ignored her, Gareth thought.
“Look, Pippa, I’m sorry for not being around much this week. It’s just—”
“Gareth, I’m fine. Just a bit busy. Can we leave this conversation till after the game? I’ll have a big catch-up with you then, okay?”
Well, that was just great. His misery now extended to losing his best friend as well. Apparently he was becoming quite the expert at upsetting the women he cared for.
“Was thinking of missing the after-game shindig, maybe going in to check on Mac.” Which was a bald-faced lie—there was no chance he was going to risk running into Emily just yet. He didn’t think he’d be strong enough. “But I’ll turn up for a little while and we can catch up then.”
“Goodo, it’s a deal. Great news about Mac moving out of ICU…”
Pippa stopped talking abruptly and rushed off, muttering something about more tape, leaving Gareth to ponder how she’d known that Mac was moving wards. He wondered if she had been to see him, whether she had spoken to Emily. He really wanted to chase after Pippa—to ask her what she knew, how Emily had seemed if they had crossed paths—but quickly realised there was no point in knowing. He was only making it worse for himself. He needed to cut all ties with Em.
Distracted by his internal monologue, Gareth missed Rook walking up to stand in front of him.
“Cowboy. Ready for a big one?”
At the sound of Rook’s voice, Gareth closed the door on all thoughts of Emily and Pippa. “Yep, looking forward to it, itching for it. Should be tough. That Kiwi halfback’s a slippery customer. If he gets past the first line of defence he can run. Gotta make sure we shut him down.” It felt good to talk footy, to think about footy. That was what he did. That was who he was.
“Yeah, Brodie’s already mentioned it at least a dozen times. I’m more worried about the beast of a winger. Seen the size of him? Don’t want give to him a chance to wind up and get some momentum behind those tree-trunk legs.”
This was the normal range of conversation between Rook and Gareth before a game, and the routine helped Gareth focus. He and Rook discussed a few more tactics as Pippa returned from wherever she’d taken off to and finished his rub-down, loosening and warming his muscles in readiness. He had no chance to question her or talk any further. Rook monopolised his time until Brodie called the team together for last-minute instructions, then they ran out and down the tunnel amidst the cheers and boos from the fans for the kick-off.
As Gareth homed in for the first tackle of the game, he felt sorry for his opponent—he was going to hit the guy with everything he had. All of his pent-up emotion was going into this shoulder charge. It had been the thought of this moment that had kept him sane all week. Gareth didn’t disappoint himself. He set his sights on the player holding the ball, a prominent member of the opposition’s forward pack, and charged at him, his shoulder connecting at the perfect position to send the opponent flying backwards, losing his grip on the football. Gareth scooped up the lost ball, passed it quickly out wide through the hands of the Jets backline and watched in satisfaction as Josh, playing on the wing, raced over the try line and scored under the posts.
The crowd went wild. The Jets had scored in less than thirty seconds from the kick-off siren, against the run of play. While Rook set up for the attempted goal conversion, Gareth and the rest of the team walked back down the field to take up their usual starting positions. The opposition would return the ball to the Jets, to resume play from a kick off, the try-scoring team retaining the advantage of possession. Gareth grinned as Rook easily converted the try to give them a six-nil lead, then gave him a high-five as he ran past.
“Way to go, Cowboy! What’s got you all fired up? Anyone would think you had someone special in the crowd, someone to impress.”
“Yeah, if only, Rook. No, that hit was just for me. A reward.”
Chapter Twelve
The day had started off unbelievably well for Emily. She had been nervous, a little apprehensive. Thoughts of facing what was expected to be a big crowd, and of meeting Gareth’s friends, had her wiping her perspiring hands repeatedly on her jeans. She had thought long and hard on what to wear, and had finally taken Pippa’s advice—she had just worn an outfit she would be comfortable in. And that, for Emily, was denim jeans, newly purchased cowboy boots and a shirt. She had wrapped a Jets supporter’s scarf around her neck to hide some of the scars, but there was nothing she could do to camouflage the ravages on her face.
Pippa had, as she’d promised, introduced her to a bunch of women. Emily had been convinced she would never remember any of their names, especially with her belly full of marauding butterflies, but she had been delighted to find herself wedged tightly between the coaches’ wives, Caitlin James and Mandy Thomson. The women were so friendly and funny—they’d had her in stitches with their tales of their husbands, and Rook, and even some stories about Gareth. Emily had found she was really enjoying herself, right up until Gareth had run into the playing arena and the siren sounded for the game to begin.
She had nearly swallowed her tongue when Gareth had made that first tackle, charged in with no sense of self preservation. Even the women around her had gasped in shock at the ferocity of the hit.
“Brodie’s going to love that one,” she’d heard Caitlin say.
“Yeah, but JT is going to take all the praise, being forward coach and all,” Mandy had added, laughing, the sound a little forced to Emily’s ears.
“Looks like Gareth’s not the only one making a statement.” Emily hadn’t seen Pippa sit down, and couldn’t help but clasp her accomplice’s hand.
“Heya, Pip. What you doing up here visiting us civvies?”
Emily wasn’t sure whether it was Caitlin or Mandy speaking to Pippa. She was so focused on the game—on Gareth in particular—but when she heard her name mentioned she turned to find out what she had missed.
“How are you doing, Emily? Everything good? Caitlin and Mandy haven’t been telling stories about me again have they? Gotta tell ya, it’s tough when your bosses’ wives know all your teenage secrets.” Pippa didn’t seem to be worried at all, in Emily’s opinion.
“Who doesn’t know your big secret? Oh, Pipsqueak’s in love with Rookie…”
The adolescent voice Caitlin had used to tease Pippa was so funny that Emily found herself joining in with the merriment, forgetting the tension she had been experiencing while watching Gareth on the field.
“Huh, funny lady…” Pippa replied, her voice deadpan but her smile giving herself away and assuring everyone in earshot that she was just as amused at Caitlin’s antics as they were. “Anyway, I’m not here to entertain the riffraff, I just came up to give Emily a bit of news.”
Emily gave Pippa her full attention, worried that the plan might have a flaw, until Pippa set her mind at ease as she whispered, “Just thought you might want to know, Gareth hadn’t planned on coming back to the club, but I changed his mind.”
“Unless after he sees me, he changes his mind back,” Emily grumbled.
“No, I don’t think that will happen. I think Gareth will be very glad to set eyes on you. It was so hard not to tell him you were here—Go, Rook! That’s the way, baby, give it to them!”
Emily’s eardrum nearly burst as Pippa screamed her approval at Rook’s run, and Emily joined in enthusiastically, cheering Rook on as he intercepted a floating pass from the Lions’ attacking play and raced the length of the field to score a try. Pippa’s comment that Rook’s legs would be shot after having to run so fast, considering his age, had the crowd of women giggling in response.
Pippa left shortly after Rook’s solo try and conversion, to prepare for half-time, promising to return to Emily as soon as possible after the game, to show her support. Caitlin and Mandy reassured Pippa and Emily that they would take care of her in the meantime, even offering their assistance to get Gareth and Emily back on the right path. Both Caitlin and Mandy gushed about how much they loved a happy ending, and how much they liked Gareth, and said that he needed a good woman in his life.
Emily felt such a strong connection with the women that she filled them in on all the drama of the last few days and the previous years. It was then that Emily realised none of the people she had met that day had even mentioned her face. She had forgotten about it.
Soon enough, the game was over and Emily was faced with the reality of what she was about to do—she was going to ambush Gareth and put him on the spot.
What if he really doesn’t want to see me? The worst scenarios played out in her head, all negative images of Gareth shunning her. He might be embarrassed, feel pressured into talking to me, not wanting to seem rude in front of his friends. He might be angry that I involved them. I never thought of that. What if I damage his friendships with Pippa and Rook? Maybe I should just leave, before it’s too late.
Her thoughts were spinning. Trepidation and the fear of Gareth’s rejection swelled into a chilling sense of doom that left her frozen. She couldn’t face it, couldn’t face knowing that Gareth didn’t love her anymore because of how she’d acted. It was unthinkable. She was trembling, her body reacting to the fear, her mind fighting hard to keep a grip on reality. How could she face the prospect of life without Gareth? How had she ever thought she could?
* * * *
The time before the players started to slowly drift through the doors played out like hours in Emily’s mind. She hovered nervously behind the other women, her eyes fixed on any movement that heralded the arrival of a clean player, dressed in street clothes. God, what was taking so long? Had Gareth got wind of her and slipped out another way? Surely Pippa would let her know? Maybe she didn’t want to relay the unhappy news to her, didn’t want to be the bringer of bad news. What would she do? Should she go to Rook’s nightclub and try again?
Emily was so caught up in her pessimistic thoughts that she missed Gareth walking out through the door, Rook and Pippa by his side. It was Pippa who gained her attention, waving frantically at her behind Gareth’s back. Emily heard Caitlin whisper in her ear as she was shoved unceremoniously forward.
“Go get him.”
So she did. With her head held high and a silent prayer, Emily walked towards her man. He hadn’t noticed her—his momentum only halted when Rook stopped moving. He wasn’t looking in her direction, was deep in conversation with Rook. Emily could see when Rook spotted her, caught the encouraging smile he sent her way.
“That was quite a game, Gareth. You really showed the Lions what for.” She couldn’t think of anything more appropriate to say. She wanted to beg for his forgiveness, plead for it, but now was certainly not the time for that. Not with the television crews and newspaper reporters hanging around. It would have to do.
It was like watching a slow motion movie. She could tell the moment it registered in Gareth’s brain that it was her voice. Her heart skipped with fear as she waited for his reaction. It seemed to take a lifetime for him to turn to face her.
Chapter Thirteen
The rest of the game had played out the way the first few seconds had. The Lions hadn’t had a chance—the Jets had never let them into the game. The slippery halfback had been ineffectual without the support of his forward pack, and the Jets had just punished them. In return, the Jets’ speedy backline had carved them up, and the end score must have been an embarrassment for the visiting Lions. But Gareth had revelled in it—every tackle, every hit up, he had played like a man possessed.
And he was possessed. He was trying to exorcise a demon—his obsession. His love for Emily.
* * * *
Gareth was starting to get really pissed off. Every time he had gone to leave the room and make a run for it, to try to get past the fans and reporters, Rook had stopped him, asked him a question or got him to do some irrelevant task. He was reaching boiling point. He wanted to get to the club, fulfil his responsibilities and go home, but Rook had been stalling him at every turn. Finally they had been ready, and Rook and Pippa had followed him, talking nonstop as they’d exited the changing rooms.
Gareth was beginning to feel a bit wary at their strange behaviour. Before the game Pippa had given him the impression she didn’t want to talk. Now she was prattling on like an idiot. Then he’d heard the voice, congratulating him on the game.
For a second he thought it sounded like Emily, but that was impossible. There was no chance Emily would show her face—literally—amongst this throng of people.
But it had really sounded like her. Rook was grinning like a fool and Pippa was sporting this dreamy expression, and they were both looking over his shoulder at someone standing behind him.
He sensed her then, knew it to be true as the hairs on his arms and neck responded to her. He was almost afraid to turn around in case it was his imagination, in case he was just projecting his desire. His hope.
But if it was Emily… God, that would mean she had reached out to him, put herself out there, faced her terror of public scrutiny. He so wanted that to be the case, desperately wanted it to be Emily standing behind him, and there was only one way to find out. He had to turn around.
And he did.
Slowly.
Emily was standing there with a hesitant smile and a hint of fear in
her eyes. She had done this for him. He knew it. She was proving that she loved him enough to face her fears. It took only one stride for him to be within reach of her, and Gareth didn’t hesitate, dragging her to him, lowering his mouth to take possession of hers. One touch of her lips to his and he was lost for all time. He slid his tongue along the seam of her mouth, begging for entry, and as she opened her lips slightly, he thrust his tongue inside.
It was a pure slice of heaven, a moment to remember forever. Gareth had almost forgotten he was standing in the shadow of a football stadium, surrounded by teammates, friends and complete strangers. All he could think of was how perfect it was to have Emily in his arms, the absolute joy in the simple act of holding the woman he loved in his arms.
“Ahem… Hey, Cowboy… Unless you want this to be front page in tomorrow’s newspapers, I think you need to cool it.”
Crap, that would be the very last thing Emily would want. Gareth had the urge to kill Rook where he stood for even mentioning the possibility. He felt Emily stiffen in his arms, and waited for her to go into full panic mode.
“Rook’s just teasing, Em. It won’t happen.”
“Aw, shit, Cowgirl, I didn’t mean to worry you, hon. Pippa, why’d you let me say something like that? Anyhow, what would it matter? You guys aren’t doing anything wrong. What’s not to like? A couple of good-looking country cow-folk doing bit of tongue wrestling—makes a better story than some of the shit that gets printed.”
Emily was laughing. Gareth could hardly believe his ears, and that thought of killing Rook quickly morphed into a wish to hug the man—an equally disturbing thought for Gareth as he remembered the press corps still in attendance. Pippa was laughing, Rook was laughing, the place had gone mad and Gareth was overjoyed.
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