Spotting Haven in the seats along the rope line, I drop hard in the seat next to her. “Hey.”
“Oh, hey, Milo. Where’s Ruby?”
I nod to the pitch, ramming my hands between my legs to stop them twitching. “Alex was a man down?—”
Her brows shoot up. “She’s playing?”
“Yes,” I reply, sitting on my hands instead. “Where’s Everly?”
“Clemmie has her.”
I crack my knuckles because sitting on my hands isn’t working.
“Are you okay?”
Standing up to let a couple of spectators pass us in the seats helps to distract me. “Yup. Fine. All good.”
“You look nervous.”
I turn to Haven and lie straight to her face. “I’m not.”
“Hmm, okay,” she replies, rubbing along her belly. I hadn’t noticed how big she’s gotten recently.
“Do you want me to go and find you a cushion or something?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. I probably won’t be able to sit still anyway?—”
“Don’t be nervous, it’s a low goal. It’s not going to be a hard game.”
She shoots me a knowing side-eye. “Then maybe you should tell that to yourself again.”
I scoff. She has me there. And it’s not that I’mnervousnervous, I’m . . . okay, yes, I’m nervous. I want Ruby to do well. I know in my heart she will, but I also have firsthand knowledge of how crippling nerves can be. And she was nervous.
I try sitting on my hands again. This is worse than when I’m waiting for the ball to drop at the start of a match.
“Come on.” She nudges me. “She’ll be great. If you’ve been teaching her.”
I laugh, which helps. “I appreciate the faith you have in me.”
“Of course I have faith in you, Miles?—”
She stops talking as the steward comes over the tannoy, introducing the players. I spin around, checking to see if anyone is coming to support. There’s less support here than the mini-polo, and no responses when I check my phone.
“First up, the Foxleigh Otters . . .”
Haven whoops, and I whistle and clap my hands together. There aren’t enough spectators to make more than a meager cheer as four ponies gallop on. Riders wearing the pale blue Foxleigh colors with navy numbers. Alex is number one. ..Ruby number two . . . where my focus stays. I don’t even know who else is playing with them.
She gallops in on Maverick, hands relaxed, seat back. She’s sitting up, shoulders straight. They look amazing.
Everything she’s listened to. Everything I’ve said.
“Miles?” Haven nudges me again, and I realize I haven’t heard a word she’s said. “Ruby looks good.”
“Yeah, she does,” I reply without taking my eyes off her, as the opposing team is announced and gallops on.
“Hey, is that Ruby?”
We look up to see Clementine walking along the row, Everly strapped to her chest, wearing a pair of bunny earmuffs. I stand to let her past so she can sit on Haven’s other side.
