In fact, Miles is the only one of the six of us who looks remotely like he has any energy left. That’s down to today’s win, because the points we just secured—as he’s told me many times this week—were the last opportunity to keep us at the top of the leaderboard for the England’s Cup.
He’s so cheery that he raises a hand to wave at the boys as he guides Clover down one of the side ramps. Clover also looks likeshe barely worked up a sweat and could go another ten chukkas, instead of the two she galloped her heart out in.
“I need a beer,” Billy says.
“Later,” Miles shoots back with a grin. “We have work to do first.”
We all watch in silence as he walks Clover through the stables and into the yard where she’ll have a hose down and a massage.
“How the fuck has he got any energy left?” grumbles Juan.
Jack shakes his head in response as he opens up the other trailer and unbuckles Mary to back her out.
Not that you’d know it based on Miles’s demeanor, but it was a hard-fought match. The Maximum Effort Devils put up a good fight, and because we’ve played them several times already this season, they were familiar with our ponies and our game. The ball was hit harder and longer, they covered more ground than any match we’ve played yet, and the score—2–1 to the Flyers—reflects how closely skilled the teams are.
It was forty-two minutes of attack and defense, with no letup.
Thankfully, it was a local match, only an hour down the country lanes, which means we get to sleep in our own beds tonight. And even though it’s barely lunchtime, I’m already excited.
I’m less excited about this “work” Miles has planned. Especially since he’s using it as a distraction from the real issues at hand.
1. He hasn’t spoken to his family since the theater.
2. The new handicaps are released today.
3. The teams are announced for the England’s Cup.
All in all, I’m surprised Miles hasn’t self-combusted.
“It’s nervous energy,” Jack observes, walking past with Mary. “You know he’s waiting for the handicaps.”
“I know he’s worked hard enough,” replies Billy, backing Messiah down the walkway. “Twice as hard if you think about it.”
“Anyone got an update on howLos Tigresis doing in their match today?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve been checking my phone. They only just started when we got back.”
“Remind me how they end up playing us?”
“If they lose, we play the Grasshoppers. If they win, they come second in the tables?—”
“And we play them.”
I nod grimly. The latter is a result no one wants.
“Fuck. I cannot believe his ban is over,” Billy snarls, shaking his head at what we’re all thinking.
“I know.”
He glances toward the stable corridor, where Miles hasn’t returned from, and lowers his voice. “How’s he doing?”
I shrug. “You saw him on the pitch today. How do you think?”
“Yeah, okay. That’s a fair answer.” His lips twist in worry.
As he walks away, I wait for Maverick, who trots off like he hasn’t a care in the world, next to his new bestie, Annabel. It was barely three months ago when he took a chunk out of her shoulder, practically galloping off and into my arms because he couldn’t wait to get away.
The change in him is astronomical.
