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“Yeah, seeya.” She watched his car as he drove down the gravel road and out of sight. Jesus Christ, she was confused. The bouncing around from ignoring her, dismissing her, then being perfectly normal with her. And whatwasthat look in his eyes? It had come and gone so quickly she hadn’t had time to register it, but it had pulled her up short, enough to stop her from blurting out the question uppermost in her mind – What the FUCK was wrong with him? Sighing, she kicked at the gravel. She doubted he would have given her a straight answer, anyway.
Chapter 2
Saturday morning began with a shroud of misting rain. There was no downpour, it just lingered on the air, seeping under collars and clinging to skin. The grass on the football ground was slick with it. They’d have to be careful on the run, Rafe thought, as he led the team out for a warm-up jog. He was acutely aware of Mikayla in the middle of the pack, laughing at something Bluey had mumbled. He tried to ignore the churning in his gut. Things were getting worse. It wasn’t so bad if he was prepared to see her, but if her presence took him by surprise, like the other day at the Long House, he really had to clamp down on his reaction to her. He knew he’d confused her, upset her, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was just relieved that she’d stopped short of asking him outright what was going on, because he had no idea how he would have answered her.Oh, not much, Mikky, just that I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, and…he wasn’t going to follow that line of thought. Theand… was going to wreak serious havoc with his head if he didn’t pull it together.
“We done, Mack?”
“Huh?” He turned to look at Evan, a stocky center backman and the town butcher.
“Just that you’ve slowed us down to practically a walk.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, stretch it out, guys.” They moved off into their customary pairs, Rafe bracing himself as Mikayla approached him. With her hair pulled back in a tight braid, she was wearing a training jumper and her football shorts, leaving her long legs bare. He caught her leg as she swung it up, lifting it high enough that she could get a good stretch. She leaned forward, breathing deeply as she deepened the stretch, holding it for thirty seconds before switching to the other leg. Christ, she was flexible. That thought sent his mind down an uncomfortable track, so he stepped back abruptly, catching her leg so she didn’t fall over, then releasing it abruptly. “You can do the rest. I’ve got to go and ah, speak to…” He let the sentence trail off as he walked away, back to the clubrooms.
The team returned to the clubrooms about ten minutes later, fully warmed up and ready to play. But first, as Captain, it was up to him to make the speech for Mikayla’s one hundred and fiftieth game. He climbed up on the bench seat that lined the back wall. “Alright, alright. Gather round. Today’s a big day.” He pitched his voice to be heard above the chatter, waiting a few seconds to allow the talk to die down and all eyes to turn to him. “So, as you all know, Mikayla Sinclair nets the big one-fifty today.” There was a shifting of bodies as people moved to pat Mikayla on the back. His eyes rested on her face for a second, seeing the lurking hurt from his abrupt departure earlier. He looked away. “One hundred and fifty games for the one club is always a big deal, but we all know, it’s even bigger for Mikky. We fought hard to get the dispensation that allowed her to play in the men’s league with us. She’s fast and she plays hard and we all knew she deserved the spot on the team. She’s never let us down. She’s a team player who always gives it her all and I couldn’t be prouder to lead her out on the field today for this milestone game. Three cheers for Mikky!” Everyone cheered as Mikayla grinned. “Okay, one more thing!” Rafe shouted over the noise. “Don’t forget, there are a few assholes on the other team, who’ve always hated the fact that Mikky’s game puts theirs to shame. I want you to be vigilant if you see any rough stuff or inappropriate play. Alright, that’s all. Let’s go!” The players began to exit the room. “Mikayla, wait.”
She stopped at the door, turning to look at him, her expression guarded. “What is it?”
“You’ll see in a minute.”
She sighed and turned away. The silence grew thick and heavy, pressing on him. He knew he was being a total ass but he didn’t know what else to do. He kept thinking he was on top of it, that it was under control, then she would do something, or say something, or just breathe next to him and it would set him off, get those weird feelings going. The only defense he had was to shut it down. He knew it was hurting her, but he also knew it would be much worse if she knew what was actually going on. It would have to mean the end of their friendship. And that he couldn’t stand.
“Okay, out you go.” He followed as she stepped out the door, his heart catching uncomfortably as she turned and flashed him the most stunning smile at the sight that had greeted her. Her parents, Nora and John, and brother Callum were on the oval, not far from the player’s gate. They were holding up a ginormous banner made from crepe paper. The words,MIKAYLA SINCLAIR. CONGRATULATIONS ON 150 GAMES. YOU ARE A TRUE CHAMPION,wereemblazoned across it.
Rafe watched as she jogged down the steps and through the gate. Bluey handballed a football to her and she kicked it through the banner before running at it, tearing it to shreds as everyone clapped and cheered. Juniper was on the other side of the banner with her little boy, Billy, filming with her phone. Mikayla stopped to pick Billy up, spinning him around as he gave her a big cuddle. She hugged her parents, Callum and Juniper, putting Billy down just as the siren sounded. She ran across the oval to her customary position at half forward.
The first quarter ran pretty smoothly, with the Blessed Inlet Bombers leading for most of it. The slick conditions made play hard. The ball slipped through hands, tackles were harder to land, and it was hard to stay upright on the run. Still, they cruised into the second quarter with a twelve-point lead due to the team’s discipline.
Mikayla kicked two goals early in the second quarter and from there, the play turned increasingly dirty as the opposition really started aiming for her. The big, burly backman for the other team knocked her hard, sending her sliding across the grass. She was awarded the free kick because the hit happened behind play and she managed to slot it neatly through the goal posts. To celebrate her score, Mikayla turned and gave the opposition player the finger. Rafe’s guts turned to ice as the man stalked towards her. Hovering around the center line, Rafe was way too far away to get to her in time if the guy did what he seriously looked like he wanted to do. He started to run over as he saw that Mikayla was holding her ground, hands on hips, glaring up at the man as he loomed over her, his nose mere inches from hers. Thankfully, the umpire intervened, pushing at the guy, blowing his whistle in warning.
“Fuckhead,” Mikayla spat as Rafe got to her.
“Have a break.”
She stared at him. “You’re benching me?”
“I’m giving you a break.”
“I don’t need it.”
“You might not, but we do.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve got a target on your back. We can’t keep running interference.”
“Then don’t!”
“And see you end up in hospital. No thanks. Have a break.” He waited a beat, then said, “Please.”
She grumbled something under her breath, but acquiesced, walking off the oval to the player’s bench. Rafe glanced over a few moments later to see Callum leaning over the fence, talking to Mikayla earnestly. She was nodding her head enthusiastically. Rafe wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or relieved. He kept her benched for the rest of the second quarter. The team gathered into the rooms at the half time siren, and Rafe’s mind tried to formulate a plan to stop Mikayla from getting slaughtered in the third quarter.
“Alright, listen up.” He held up a whiteboard with a large oval shape drawn on it, with the player positions filled in. “We’re changing things around for the third. Mik, I’m dropping you in the backline.” A murmur ran through the team, everyone sliding glances at Mikayla. She never played back; she was always center half forward, roving around the packs, swooping up the ball when it popped out and kicking goals. “You good with that?”
She shrugged. “I’ll talk to you about it when you’re done.”
He wrapped up the plans for the third quarter and waited for everyone to leave before turning to her. She stood just inside the doorway, arms folded across her chest, legs streaked with mud. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Alright.”
