“Sort of,” I say, my voice low. “It’s… it’s where Henry and I played. Every day. Sunrise to sundown. Weather didn’t matter. Mum used to have to drag us home.”
Addison turns her body toward me, as if she hears the shift in my voice. She doesn’t speak, but her eyes curve as they search mine.
I glance over toward the pitch and slip my hands into my pockets. “He was two years older than me. Taller. Smarter. Better at everything. And I didn’t mind. It was never a competition. He always made me feel like I could catch up. He was just my best friend.”
“That’s lovely, Oliver.” Addison smiles at me. She doesn’t push or pry. She just nods, as if she’s gently encouraging me on.
I take a deep breath, digging into parts of my past I never talk about. “He always looked out for me, even when we were little. He looked after Mum too, especially after Dad left. Henry took on things no kid should have to. I didn’t realize the weight of it then, how much he carried. But I do now.”
Addison’s eyes soften, like she knows what I’m about to tell her. Her lips part like she wants to say something, but doesn’t want me to retreat.
I look down at the grass. “When I was fifteen, and Henry was seventeen, we went to a party. Just a bunch of us kids from school. Nothing crazy, honestly. We weren’t doing anything we shouldn’t have. But Henry just wasn’t feeling it. He wanted to leave early, but I didn’t. I was being stupid, flirting with some girl I probably had no chance with. So he left without me and said he’d come back to pick me up later.”
“What happened?”
My throat tightens. I haven’t said any of this out loud in years. “He was hit by a drunk driver on his way back to get me.” I shake my head, fighting back the tears I can feel forming. “He was gone. Just like that. I sat there waiting for him to pick me up, and he never came. He would never forget me, so when he didn’t come, I knew something was wrong.” I feel the air between us shift. “That’s why I never talk about it. It’s just a reminder that if I had just gone home with him, it wouldn’t have happened.”
Her brows pinch together. “Oliver… you… you couldn’t have stopped it.”
“Maybe I would have seen the other car coming,” I say quickly.
“Then maybe you’d both be dead,” she replies, just as fast. It’s not a harsh response. It’s just steady, like she’s trying to ground me with logic. “Don’t punish yourself, Oliver. Henry died because someone chose to drink and get behind the wheel. They made a selfish, reckless decision. That isnotyour fault.”
I stare at her, my heart pounding.
“But—”
“You are not defined by the worst thing that’s happened to you, Oliver,” she says firmly. “Do you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Let it shape you, but don’t let it define you.” Addison takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “You honor him every day, Oliver. You keep on living. You love your mother. You take care of her. You play the game you love the way he would have—full of heart. You show up.” She slides her thumb across my cheek and wipes away a tear I didn’t realize I had let go of. “You are not the villain in this story, Oliver. You’re the one who keeps trying.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I’ve kept this pain buried for so long. I’ve always been afraid to let someone hold this part of me. But here she is, holding my pain in her hands, with no sign of dropping it.
“No.” Addison looks up at me, her expression soft. “Thank you for sharing Henry with me.”
I nod, letting out a half-smile. “That’s why I play football. On the pitch is where I feel closest to him. Sometimes, when I’m running down the wing for Rockford… I swear I can see him, just on the other side of the pitch. He’s waving his arms about, yelling at me to stop pouncing about and get on with it.”
“Was he as bossy as you?”
“Even bossier,” I say, letting a grin extend across my face. “I think that’s where I get it.” I look back at the pitch. “That’s why Mum’s never moved. I’ve offered loads of times. Once I really made it, I told her I could buy her a place anywhere she fancied. But she won’t go.”
“How come?”
“She says the house holds so much of him—of both of us—she can’t go. It’s not just a house to her, you know? I think it’s like how football is for me. It’s where she still hears his voice.” I glance over at Addison, and her eyes are damp. “She reckons if she leaves, he won’t know where to find her.”
“I understand.”
“He’d have liked you though. He’d take the mickey out of you, but he’d have liked you all the same.”
Something shifts in the air between us. I don’t move at first. Her gaze drops to my mouth for half a second. She tries to recover quickly, but I catch it.
I lean in, just a little. She does too.
She’s close enough that I can see her lips tremble, feel her breath catch. My own heart’s thudding like it’s trying to get out of my chest. She tilts toward me, then sucks in a sharp breath and pulls back, like she’s just remembered the rules of a game we’re not meant to be playing.
“We should get going.”
