Always and Forever: Rugby Brothers, Book 3

by Tiara Inserto

  Aidan’s reaction to Eden’s news kept Mano’s attention. A wave of indecision and vulnerability washed over a face he was used to seeing as proud, occasionally bordering on defiant. Aidan swallowed as a tide of red rose up the teenager’s neck.

  “What do you mean you’re quitting the team, mom? How about Mesa?” Aidan asked, his voice cracking slightly, as if trying to gain control of his emotions. “You’re still going, right? It’s another chance to make Nationals. You don’t have to train with the Berkeley club. You could still train with the Beavers.”

  Eden reached for Aidan’s hand but he stood up abruptly, the dining chair almost toppling at his abrupt action. She covered her response to the rejection quickly, a hand reaching for an earlobe. “Going to Mesa wasn’t part of my plan, Aidan. My goal was to qualify at San Luis Obispo.”

  “You need to go,” Aidan insisted. “You need to keep trying. You hurt your foot. And it was a short course. Dad said your turns suck.”

  “Aidan, listen. I gave it a shot. I was close but not fast enough. I’m proud of my time, but I need to move on. I’ll still keep swimming at the Masters level. Besides, I want to spend more time with you.”

  “No, you don’t!”

  “Aidan—"

  “I won’t be the reason why you didn’t make your dreams come true. Not again! You need to do this!”

  Stunned silence was broken by the sound of a slamming door.

  Mano wanted to reach for her, to offer the comfort of his arms, her pained face calling for him to protect her. But Robert was there for his daughter before Mano could act.

  “Let me talk to him….” Robert began.

  Eden shook her head. “No, this one is on me.” She kissed Robert on the cheek. “If you and Pop need to go before I’m done talking with him, please go. I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Eden, Aidan does raise some good points.” Donald said. “Mesa is still within your reach. We’re here for you in any way.”

  Eden squeezed Donald’s hand. “As you’ve always been. I’ve got this, Pop. I do. I know what I’m doing.”

  Then she turned to Mano. The questions in her eyes glued him to the spot. He spoke quickly, wanting to extinguish any doubt she could have. “I’ll stay until you come out. No worries.”

  Eden knocked gently on the door before turning the knob.

  Aidan sat at his desk. He looked up briefly before returning to his drawing, his pencil moving aggressively on the paper. Eden sat on the floor behind him, leaning against his bed. She touched her earlobe before pushing her fingers through the carpet. She didn’t want to be there; she didn’t want to have this conversation with her son. When did it become so hard to share a dream with people?

  “Aidan—”

  “You’re quitting.”

  “No —”

  “Bullshit, mom.”

  “Hey! Watch your language, young man!”

  “You’re stopping because you didn’t make your times. Sounds like quitting to me.” His back was still to her. The scraping sound of pencil on paper filled time before she could answer as the adult she was supposed to be.

  She took a deep breath. “Bud, you can’t control the outcome of everything you do. I gave it as much as I could. It’s okay. But I need to go back to work fulltime; I want to spend more time with you, with Granddad and Pop. And you know Grandma Mattie is getting older. She may be here with us for very long.”

  Aidan glanced over his shoulder. “So, in ten years, it’ll be everyone else’s fault you didn’t make Nationals.”

  “No! Of course not. Just like you’re not the reason why I didn’t make it to Nationals thirteen years ago.”

  Aidan threw his pencil on his desk and rested both his hands on the back his head. “Dad said everything was perfect for him to make the Summer Games. He had the right conditions, the right coach, and the right swimmers to compete against. Don’t you have that now? To make Nationals?”

  “I don’t need to swim Nationals to make my life perfect. Things are pretty good.”

  Aidan shrugged. “Whatever, mom. If your goal is to almost-make-it, I guess you achieved it. Is that it? Want to check my phone again?”

  Eden closed her eyes and pursed her lips. At the door, she pushed back against the desire to grab her son and hold him tight. If he pulled away, she may not be able to keep a calm front. “Say goodnight to your grandparents and Mano, please,” Eden whispered. “Manners, Aidan.”

  Neither of her fathers had left, bringing the level of cleanliness in the house up a notch while they waited for her. Lemon scent lingered; her pots shined. Even the toaster gleamed. Mano was on the balcony, a phone to his ear. She put her arm around Robert, his quick but reassuring touch said enough. Mano’s low laugh caught her attention; its tone somehow an emotional anesthetic to the angst that simmered inside. Through the glass doors, their eyes met. A soft smile rested on his lips as he leaned against the metal railing.

  He continued to watch her as she made her way to him.

  “I know, mate,” Mano said. “I miss you too. Maybe, mate. No, Los Angeles isn’t that far away. Of course I want to see you. Yes, I want to see Jayne too. Fred—”

  As if needing to concentrate, he turned around as a voice from far away kept his attention. “Yes, mate. Let me talk to your dad one more time. Will you get him? Bye, mate.” Mano sighed. “I love you, too, Fred.”

  She smiled at the confession, no longer able to resist touching him again. Eden rested against his back, soaking up his strength then wrapped her arms around his waist. His free hand covered both her hands, his warmth a welcomed contrast to the cooling air.

  “Con? That wasn’t fair play, mate. No, Los Angeles isn’t far...I’ll think about it…No, there’s no need for all of you to come up to visit me. Don’t believe you, mate, I don’t want to talk to Cat. No, don’t have Liana call me…The contract is over in December.”

  She held him tighter at those words, an instant and instinctive response at the idea of him leaving her. It was inevitable, of course. They never talked about the future. He didn’t want to, and she knew that when she first kissed him.

  There was an end date to his time here. With her. She swallowed the hope that he’d want to stay. Others loved him in New Zealand. And he loved them, including an anonymous figure who still held a large part of his heart.

  She knew she could love him. It’d be easy to fall in love with him.

  But she wasn’t there yet.

  And he didn’t love her.

  Yet.

  She shook her head, rubbing her face into his back, willing wishful thoughts to go away.

  “We’ll talk more later. I have to go,” Mano spoke into the phone.

  His large body heaved as he slid his phone into the front pocket of his hoodie. He turned and she met him halfway, her body molding into his as they embraced. “You all right?” he asked.

  “Everything okay?” she asked back.

  “Yes, but I want to know if you’re okay.”

  She nodded. “Teenagers suck.”

  “He’s a good kid.”

  “He’s nice to you.”

  “He has to be.”

  She laughed softly and pulled him closer, his breath warming her neck. She would have stayed there longer if Aidan’s words didn’t continue to dance in her head.

  “He thinks I’m a quitter,” Eden said, pulling away slightly. She patted his chest with both her hands and searched his eyes for assurances. “Why can’t he understand that some goals will never be reached?”

  But he wasn’t able mask his thoughts quickly enough. She stepped back suddenly, as if to avoid his touch. “You think I’m a quitter,” she said loudly.

  He pushed his hands into the pockets, his dark eyes meeting hers. “No.”

  She frowned. “You think Aidan’s right, that I should try for Mesa.”

  He stood straighter, his eyes dark and unapologetic. “Yes.”

  She blinked and without another word, turned and reentered her apartment.r />
  Eden walking way without looking back brought Mano to the minute – the second – he heard Margot’s voice on the recording. He didn’t have a say in his ex-fiancée’s decision to end their relationship. His opinion wasn’t sought. The anger that came after the despair wanted the conversation, wanted the argument, wanted the opportunity to fight for the life they had planned. He was mentally conditioned to battle, to overcome obstacles, to work through pain. He was trained never to give up until the final whistle blew.

  Except, in love, there was no opponent to fight.

  Love?

  He shook his head, pushing the thought as far away as possible. Seconds that seemed like minutes passed. He fought for his breath, got it back, and the heavy pounding in his head eased. Three faces stared expectantly.

  Donald nodded toward Eden’s door.

  But it was the front door that beckoned, teasing him with the safety of retreat, of returning to the sanctuary of being alone. Easier not to get involved. He wasn’t good at the friendship-thing; he failed at the relationship-thing. It’d be smarter to walk through the door, down the stairs and head home. He could handle the silence waiting for him in the little house at the end of a cul-de-sac.

  Yet, whatever awaited behind Eden’s closed door, he knew he couldn’t leave until they spoke. No apologies; just an explanation. She deserved that.

  He prepared himself for a confrontation, for her anger. He knocked softly. “Eden?”

  The door opened immediately. Flashing eyes, crossed arms, and a raised chin greeted him. “What?”

  He blinked, suddenly muted at her beauty. She rolled her eyes and slammed the door.

  “Eden! Please, open the door.”

  “No!”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Talk.”

  “Through the door?”

  “Yes. You laughing at me doesn’t win any points, Mano.”

  “I didn’t laugh.”

  “You smiled.”

  “I didn’t.”

  She opened the door again. “You’re still smiling!”

  The apartment shuddered at the second slam. Throat clearing from down the hallway drew Mano’s attention. Robert gestured for him to open the door. Mano shook his head. Donald appeared and pulled his husband away and gave Mano an apologetic glance.

  Mano cracked his neck and loosened his shoulders before knocking on the door. “Eden? Please. I didn’t realize I was smiling.”

  The door flung open again. “You’re not good at this boyfriend thing, you know! One: if you’re going to disagree with your girlfriend, do it nicely. Two: don’t laugh at her when she’s angry at you. Is that why you’re here alone and not with what’s-her-name?”

  She rushed her hand to her mouth, horror immediately replacing anger. “Oh shit! I didn’t say that, did I? Oh, god, Mano. That was terrible. That was totally uncalled for. I’m just mad at…I don’t know…anyone! Everyone! And you’re here, right now, getting the worst of me. I’m so, so sorry!”

  Eden’s words should have elicited a response reflective of his loss. It had before. He was ready to bear down on feelings before they overwhelmed his ability to think rationally.

  But the expected anger didn’t cut through him.

  Instead, it was Eden’s fear and sorrow he reacted to. Her eyes had begun to well up; her hands continued to cover her mouth as if no longer trusting herself to speak. “Walk with me,” he said. “We should talk. In private.”

  She stared at his outstretched hand, confusion crossing her face. When she reached for it, he exhaled as relief flooded his senses.

  “Let me grab a sweatshirt,” she said, weakly, her face pink.

  Intuitively, hand-in-hand, they walked towards the chapel. She may decide he wasn’t worth the effort after hearing his story – who wants to stay with a broken man? – but she deserved to hear the whole truth about him. Otherwise his advice about something as basic as whether she should continue swimming or not didn’t hold value. It had to be the truth about everything.

  They stopped in front of a bench strategically placed between two river birches. A quick brush sent a scattering of golden tear-drop leaves to the ground, revealing a plaque dedicated to an “Alison Yasmin”.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was mean and stupid and spiteful and—”

  “And true,” Mano admitted.

  Eden shook her head vigorously. “No. Definitely not true about you. You’re one of the good guys, remember?”

  Mano scrunched up his nose and stared ahead. “I’m not perfect.”

  “Who said you were perfect? I just said you’re a good guy. No one’s perfect.”

  “There was a time when I was pretty famous in New Zealand. I’ve been on a few of those stupid ‘Eligible Bachelors’ lists. A lot of people thought I was the ‘perfect guy.’ But I don’t think I was a very good boyfriend. Always on the road. Not there for birthdays, for family. I couldn’t have been a good fiancé, either.” He turned to look at her. “Or she wouldn’t have left, right?”

  Eden winced. “I don’t know why your fiancée left you, Mano. All I know is that you have a good heart.”

  He looked away. “I wish I could promise you something.”

  “Like what?”

  “A future?”

  This time, she turned away. Adjusting her body, she crossed her legs as she pulled on the collar of her sweatshirt. “I grew up knowing that the people who loved me most weren’t there for me. I never knew my parents, Mano. But they loved me. I know they did. It wasn’t their choice to die. They weren’t even doing anything stupid. They were driving home from work. An accident happened. Guess what? I’m okay. I have a good life. I’ve been loved, and I can love.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Don’t get me wrong. I like you. A lot. If what we have ends tomorrow, I’ll be sad. I may cry. And I would probably be upset at you for a little while. But I’ll be okay.”

  He reached for her hand; a dry throat prevented an immediate response.

  He wanted to say something, to thank her for her patience, for not wanting to know why he couldn’t promise more than one day at a time. Instead, he stared at their clasped hands and marveled at the fairness of her skin to the darkness of his: different but complimentary.

  “My friends will be in Los Angeles at the end of the month and want me to join them in L.A. for Thanksgiving.” Mano paused and searched for the right words. She needed to know. “They’re afraid for me.”

  “Afraid for you? What do you mean? Why?”

  “I…struggle.”

  She didn’t move. Fear enveloped him. He prepared himself for her retreat. Darkness threatened to appear, from within, from a place void of light. He blew out of his mouth repeatedly. Then she squeezed his hand.

  “Go on,” she whispered.

  She was still there. Next to him. Encouraging.

  “I talk to a doctor once a month,” he began. “Dr. Spurgeon. He’s in New Zealand. Good bloke. Works with a lot of athletes. You know, teaching us how to deal with the stresses of success and failure. I started private sessions with him after Margot – the woman I wanted to marry – left. She was my whole world. Thought I was going to lose her to cancer but she survived that hell. What I wasn’t ready for was her not wanting me in her future.”

  “She said that?”

  Mano shrugged. “She didn’t say much. She just left. Basically told me to move on.”

  His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. But not angry. No, not angry. That was a first. Her hand continued to hold his.

  “And that’s why you’re here? In California? To move on?” she asked.

  A short laugh escaped him. “Sort of.” He looked towards the curved dome of the chapel; stained glass glowed, seemingly, from a single light source inside. “The idea was just to get away. And here, no one would be interested in who I was or who I am. To start fresh, Spurgeon said, I needed to reclaim my privacy. Too many eyes on me back home. That was the price of success.”

  “You seem
to be doing okay. I mean, aren’t you?”

  He shifted slightly. “Yes.”

  “The nightmares?”

  “Spurgeon says there’s no schedule to heal from loss. Day to day.”

  She squeezed his hand again. “No, there’s none. Grief comes in stages. To this day, sometimes out of the blue, my dad calls me to talk about my biological father, his brother. They were really close.” Eden turned to Mano, a large smile on her face. “Thanksgiving in Los Angeles? Why is that such a bad idea?”

  “It’d be good to see them. Connor’s my best friend; Mitch would do – and has done – anything for me. They’re my rugby brothers, brothers by choice. But I don’t want them to be worried about me anymore.”

  “I don’t think you can stop the people who care about you from doing that.”

  Mano pursed his lips. “I know, but I don’t like it.” He paused. “They want to meet you. They think you’re good for me.”

  “You told them about me?”

  He elbowed her gently. “Yes. And Aidan. And Mrs. Henderson. She’s who they really want to meet!”

  Her laugh surprised him as was her pulling him into her arms. He reached around her waist automatically, and when Eden’s lips touched his, he responded immediately. The warmth she emanated brought him further away from the edge of sadness he almost fell in. He inhaled her scent and savored the taste of her lips. Mano started to believe that maybe—just maybe—he was entitled to a moment of perfection.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Eden had told herself she would sleep in. There was no longer a reason to keep to the crazy schedule of an early morning workout. She’d still swim, she argued to herself. Just at a more acceptable time. Like normal people. Except her body was still in the habit of waking up before her alarm went off.

  She turned in her bed and reached for the extra pillow next to her, scrunching her nose slightly at the cool sheets. She would have preferred a warm body next to her last night. A specific body, but Mano declined her invitation to stay over. Ten years ago, she would have taken that as an ultimate rejection, that he was no longer interested. A warm bed with an eager partner? What healthy man would turn that down?