Behind the Pitch, a novella: Seeking Serenity 1.5

by Butler, Eden

  Joe knew. This whole time he would have known about the faceless relatives I have back home. He grew up there. He told me himself he knew about O’Malley and my mum, it’s no large stretch to assume he knew the whole O’Malley clan, knew exactly who my kin was.

  Sayo finally settles her eyes on my face and I can tell by the small line denting between her eyebrows that she’s expecting a reaction from me. Maybe she thinks I’ll freak out. Maybe she’s hoping I’ll be grateful to her and her da. I’m really not, to be honest.

  “And what did Joe say about all of this?”

  The wrinkle deepens and I catch the frown Sayo tries to hide. “Not much, but I have to be honest, Declan. I got the feeling he wasn’t shocked.”

  It’s all the confirmation I need. Fecking, old bollocks. The letter crumbles in my hand and I toss it in the bin next to the sidewalk.

  “What are you doing?” Sayo says.

  “I don’t give a flying fart about some dead man and his money. It’s not important to me. Not one buggering pence.”

  “Declan, that’s a lot of money.” When I only stare at her, Sayo falters, pushes her hair behind her ear.

  “I know what it is and I don’t care. I don’t care that my mum shagged another woman’s husband. I don’t care if it was a pity fuck or a drunken shag or something they did to pass the time. If I’m being honest, I don’t really care that Joe knew all this shite about me and didn’t say a buggering word. I only care about Autumn. She’s all that matters. I care that she’s hacked off at me. I care that she won’t speak to me. I care that I can’t see her, can’t touch her. It’s killing me, Sayo.” My voice has gone all pitchy and soft and I hate that my vision is blurring. I hate that Sayo can see this. I hate that she’ll likely tell Autumn what a weak, pathetic sod I am, but I can’t help it. I’m useless without her. “She’s not here and I don’t know what to do with myself. So this sibling I’ve got somewhere back home can have all of O’Malley’s money. I don’t want any of it. I only want Autumn. Do you understand? I want her to forgive me. To speak to me again, to put me out of my fecking misery.”

  Sayo’s body sags and she plops into the seat next to me. She takes to flicking against the paint on her nails again. “You fucked up, you know that, right?”

  “I do.”

  Instantly, she shakes her head. “I don’t think you understand, Declan. You know Autumn. You know her fears. After everything you guys went through, after putting herself out there for you, you walked away from her.”

  “I was angry.” It’s no excuse, I know that. Sayo knows I know that. I only wish Autumn did. “But I didn’t think she’d want me to stay away.”

  “To her, everyone leaves. You see that, don’t you?” When I lower my head on the table, trying to conceal my leaking eyes, Sayo touches my shoulder, gives it a small pat. Her voice comes out softer, more controlled when she speaks again. “I know it’s irrational. I know you may not get it, but you’re the first guy since Tucker that she’s let in. You’re her first real love.”

  “And I’ll be her last, if she’ll have me back.” I say, my head popping up.

  “Well, you’re going to have to prove that to her, aren’t you?”

  “How the hell do I do that? Tell me what to do.” Sayo’s fingers are cold when I grab her hand. “I’ll do anything. Any fecking thing at all.”

  The expression on her face is a puzzle. I know she’s considering my pathetic, whiney state, trying to gage if I’m really as broken up over Autumn’s radio silence as I seem to be. I get it. Sayo is Autumn’s best friend. They’re more like sisters and I’m just some arsehole who showed up making promises I haven’t managed to keep.

  Finally, Sayo smiles and her body relaxes. “Do something monumental. Something that proves to Autumn that you care more about her than anything.”

  “Like what?”

  She shrugs. “You need to figure that out for yourself. Autumn doesn’t like words.” She collects her things, throws her bag over her shoulder before she moves from the table to stare down at me. “She’s about action. And Declan, if you love her, if you really love her, then you have to show her. Actions, not words. Monumental actions.”

  I’d never had anything all to my own.

  Not really.

  When you’re a poor kid in Ireland, you get used to that sort of thing; the distain of wanting things that can’t be yours, the sense that the things you do want are just out of reach. Over time, you come to understand that what you want for yourself, anything you want for yourself, you can only manage if you take it. Or if you earn it.

  My step-da made sure, once he came back into my life, that I did not go without. He worked very hard to give me the things I’d never had when it was just Mum and me. Eventually, the wanting went away, but with that came the understanding that you have to appreciate the rare gems you are given.

  I’ve never wanted anything like I wanted Autumn McShane. Oh, I knew she wasn’t a thing. She was much more than so many things. And when I said I wanted her, I didn’t mean I wanted a quick shag, thank you, that’s all and I’m done.

  I wanted her to touch me and mean it.

  I wanted to wake up in the mornings to the smell of her hair across my chest.

  I wanted to touch her body, to have her touch mine and know that this is who loves me, this is who I love.

  I never wanted to put that shocked, hurt expression on her face again. The same one she wore when I walked away from her.

  Because of secrets.

  They are not my secrets, but I cannot tell her that. And Morrison. Fecking, buggering, pouncy Tucker arsehole Morrison and his bleeding threats.

  “Stay away from Autumn, Fraser. Stay away or you’ll lose a hell of a lot more than your spot on the squad. I’ll make sure of it.”

  He knew the secret that wasn’t mine to tell. He knew that if Autumn discovered it, she’d hate me. I wouldn’t blame her. And there I was on the pitch, watching her talk to that amadan Morrison with the sad, angry expression on her face. Heather was blabbering on to me about something I didn’t hear, because my attention was on McShane. And Morrison. And how close he stood next to her; to the smug, satisfied expression on his face.

  He’d found me out, somehow. He knew my family history and that Autumn was part of it. And he knew that she didn’t know how we were connected, or that we were connected at all.

  She only knew that this morning while I trained the girls, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. She knew that I thought about our date all night. Couldn’t sleep for the recall of every detail. She knew that I just broke it off with her. She didn’t know that it was forced, that I would have rather gouged out my eyes than leave her be.

  Because of “not mine” secrets.

  I wanted to kill Morrison.

  I wanted to punch Joe in the throat.

  I wanted Heather to leave me alone.

  I wanted Autumn’s face to be frown free.

  I wanted her. Just her. Only her. But if she knew what I must keep to myself, for now at least, she wouldn’t look at me twice.

  She’d hate me.

  So, I didn’t do what I wanted to do. I didn’t take what I wanted to take. I didn’t run up to where Autumn and Morrison were talking, and knock that satisfied grin off his face. I didn’t throw McShane over my shoulder and cart her away so that she was well away from that arsehole. And I didn’t tell Heather to piss off.

  And I really wanted to tell her to piss off, trust me.

  I just stared at Autumn, accepted the glare she gave me.

  “Declan? Did you hear me?” Heather asked, pulling my attention off my McShane.

  “Sorry. What’s that now?”

  “I asked if you wanted to grab a bite to eat.” I didn’t move Heather’s hand from my chest, not when Morrison touched McShane. Hands off, arsehole. But if I went after them, that would only confuse Autumn. I gave her the toss just minutes before. Me telling her to stay clear of her ex would be barmy. Heather ran her nails down my arm, made
me stare down at her.

  Maybe if I talked to Heather, kept her around a bit, then I won’t be tempted to annoy Autumn. Maybe diverting my attention would help keep my mind off of where it’s stayed for weeks now.

  “Yeah, sure,” I told Heather, no enthusiasm in my voice. “After practice.”

  I walked away from her, from Autumn making plans with that wanker and onto the field thinking about the things I wanted.

  The things I wanted and could not have.

  Ages back, Autumn told me that her folks were mad for each other. They’d snuggle and touch and kiss and do all the things that parents do to mortify their children. Many times, McShane said, she felt left out, even as a kid, understanding that when her parents carried on that way, she didn’t feel like she was visible. And so she took to sneaking away in books, disappearing to Narnia or to Middle-earth, discovering the secrets of the tesseract with Meg, Charles and Calvin. Those moments were her escape; the imaginary friends that helped her pass the time when her parents were too focused on each other to mind what Autumn did.

  She sat on the basement floor with books littered around her like comrades, steeling her, giving her the strength she pretended she didn’t need.

  And now she believed that I didn’t want her.

  She believed that with me she wasn’t visible either.

  Load of bollocks, that.

  Her hair glinted against the overhead light, shone like glitter. I wanted to touch it, touch her, breathe in the sweet scent of her skin. But I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair, or honorable.

  I was getting fecking tired of what was fair and honorable.

  “Those need sorting?” she asked as I came down the stairs with a box of books in my hands. She directed me to the floor at her right when I didn’t answer with more than a grunt of confirmation.

  I should have walked away. I shouldn’t have lingered in that dark place. I should have ignored her, as she did me that morning when she came into the library. She’d seemed more concerned with speaking to Sayo than paying me much attention.

  My trainers moved, three steps at least, but it seemed my body had other ideas. It was her smell, sweet and tempting. It was the way her back straightened as though she needed to be on alert just because we were sharing the same space. I couldn’t help myself. Never could where Autumn was concerned.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, hoping she’d nod, dismiss me quickly. Yeah. Like that would ever happen.

  “Nothing to be sorry for.” She dismissed me alright, a quick glance and then returned to those beloved books of hers. But her indifference was forced. Her guard was held tight against any emotion I might have caused her to have.

  It was frustrating how guarded she could be, how at-arms-length she kept the world, especially me. I hated seeing her that way. Hated that she wouldn’t relax her rigid shoulders or let her back lower into a slouch.

  Her shoulders tightened further when I squatted next to her. “I know you were upset.”

  “No I wasn’t.” Stubborn arse. Such a liar.

  “You were.”

  I saw the tirade coming, the hurtful words eager to jump off her tongue. Her eyes were narrowed, hard, and I should have expected the cruelty that came next. “Yes, because all the weeks you’ve known me gives you unfettered knowledge to every one of my emotions.”

  I needed a breath; something to calm me, to cover my eyes with my hands, release an exhale to keep my temper from flaring. “I just meant that the other night, after our date, at your apartment, wasn’t how I—”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m over it. It was fun, but it’s not gonna happen again. You made that perfectly clear.”

  Anger it was. Anger and a fat lot of bullshite. She was deflecting. She was a fecking master at deflection. “Autumn…”

  “It’s fine, Declan. Don’t worry about me. You were right. We would be a disaster.”

  She didn’t flinch, didn’t give me any indication that there would be any cracks in her self-inflicted guard. It pissed me off. “Disaster is a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t.” Again she returned to her books as though I wasn’t significant enough to even acknowledge.

  “Really? I thought we were going to be mates.”

  “I have enough mates.” Autumn made the word sound dirty, foul. “Don’t know how many times I have to tell you that. Besides, it’s not like we have anything at all in common. That’s sort of a requirement for friendship.”

  Well, that was rude and complete bollocks. “We have plenty in common.”

  “Dead mothers and rugby do not a friendship make, Declan.”

  I couldn’t keep my temper in check. There was a connection. She knew that. It went back to that first day in her classroom when I wanted to kiss her, touch her, even though Morrison stood feet from us. It was a connection that I knew wasn’t forced, wasn’t some barmy little figment of my own creation. She was being cruel on purpose, and in the back of my mind I knew that, but sense and reason didn’t carry much weight when your temper tells you to scream your mad head off. I looked down at her, straightened my own shoulders, mimicking the defensive cast of her body, and the words slipped out before I could stop them.

  “You don’t have to be a bitch about this, McShane.”

  Shite. Her jumping to her feet, rounding on me wasn’t good.

  “I’m not, Declan. We aren’t friends. We were never friends. Remember telling me that? You were right. Friends don’t attack you when they’re drunk. Friends don’t cheat you into a date. Friends don’t act like assholes after—after kissing you and touching you and— where was friendship in all of that?”

  She wasn’t wrong. I never wanted to be her friend. We could never have just that. That connection again, moth to flame, light to dark, there was no bond past the wanting, aside from the passion. I let the anger bubble around my gut, curdle until it lifted into my chest. There were insults sliding on my tongue, desperate to hurt, to fight back, but then I saw the quick glisten in her eyes and that crackle of energy that was fecking everywhere when we were together, and it ripped away anything in my head but the need to touch, to take.

  My hands moved forward, reached for what I knew was mine, nearly touching, but she was surprised, shocked maybe that I’d try to hold her and she stumbled, ended up on her arse in the middle of the basement floor.

  “Shit. Oh, shit.” Autumn said, pulling on her ankle, immediately slinking away from me when I try to examine her injury. “Stop. I don’t need your help.”

  “Let me see, you big baby.” I made quick work of getting to her foot, moving her boot and sock out of the way, but it wasn’t bad, not something of any real concern. “It’s not swelling. Probably no worse than a sprain.”

  “Yes, I know, thanks.” She seemed compelled to pull out of my touch, inching back and my heart clenched at her reaction. I barely noticed that I was still holding her leg.

  “Do you want me to take you to the infirmary?”

  “No. I want you to go back upstairs and do what Sayo told you to do. I can manage on my own.”

  “Why are you being like this? I want…I want us—”

  Her. That’s what I wanted. Just her.

  “I don’t really care what you want. I could give a flying shit about what you want, Declan. Just get out of here. Leave me alone.” She didn’t mean it. That much was written on her face, hidden beneath her anger, her need to push me away. But, my ginger angel was a spitfire, dangerous when she was hacked off and for a second, I forgot that. She jerked again, slipped back and when I didn’t move fast enough for her liking, she took to throwing books at me like a woman possessed. I weaved around them, managed to avoid the spines and corners, before she started raging right at me. “Get. Out.”

  Then, she hid from me, turned around so that I couldn’t see how upset she’d gotten, couldn’t see her wiping at her face. My anger fled, disappeared as though it had never made an appearance and all I wanted was to hold her, clear away this entire mess until s
he was wrapped around me again.

  My fingers moved on their own as I knelt behind her, working through her hair and she let me. “I’m sorry, love. I really am.” She smelled so sweet, delicious as I buried my face in her hair.

  “Was it me?” she said and I could just make out the crack of consonants between her words. God, it killed me that she thought I didn’t want her. Fecking killed me.

  “Course not.” I’d had enough of this and ignored her small protest when I sat beside her and pulled her onto my lap.

  “It was too fast, right?”

  “I pushed, remember? I’d have likely pushed harder if I thought you’d let me get away with it. It’s not you.” Autumn was beautiful with her cheeks all red from her anger, but I didn’t like the tears, couldn’t stomach seeing her upset, so I wiped them away. “You’re right, something did happen, but I can’t say—”

  “Are you married?”

  Where had that come from? “What? God, no.”

  “Do you have a kid you just found out about or are you dying?”

  Some of the tension that had built between us, eased and I released a breath. “No, McShane, it’s none of those things.” Her leg was firm, solid under my touch and I was glad that she was there, letting me hold her somewhat. It made the ache in my chest less biting. Fuck me, did I want to tell her, but I promised Joe. Swore that his secrets would remain his until the time was right. Why the hell had I agreed to something so stupid? “It’s not my secret to tell. If I could, I would tell you and you’d know and everything would be grand, but I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Don’t you trust me, Declan?”

  Trust her? I think I’d known for a while that I more than trusted her. I think I’d known for longer than I wanted to admit to myself that Autumn was likely the only person I’d ever trust, save Joe, maybe. But I couldn’t find the words, they’d slipped away from my mind, filtered out until I was left staring after Autumn like a fecking idiot.