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Savannah laughs. It’s a kind sound. “They’re called tries in rugby, and no, that’s not his job. He’s in the scrum.”
“That’s where they hug, right?”
Tanner was in the scrum in high school and sixth form too.
“Something like that. It’s not as cosy as a hug.”
“Sorry. I tried reading about rugby, but it flitted straight out of my brain.”
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t have a clue until I started coming to games.”
“Do you enjoy watching now?”
She bobs her head from side to side. “Not really. I come to support Rob and the rest of the guys. I don’t like watching him get hurt.”
I wince. That was one of the reasons I didn’t watch many of Tanner’s games when we were teenagers. There seemed to be an injury every game. Often, it was something trivial, like a bloody nose, but that was enough to make me queasy, especially if Tanner was the one who was hurt. I wanted to run to him, hug him, and ensure he was okay. I couldn’t. No one knew we were together. Will injuries be worse at the professional level?
“Does Rob get hurt often?”
“Sometimes.” She glances at me. “I’m sure Tanner will be fine.”
“Do you still worry?”
“Every match. It’s par for the course, being a rugby wife. Sorry, boyfriend.”
I hug the scarf. I don’t want to see Tanner get hurt, but I do want to support him. I’m not sure I like the idea of him potentially getting injured every match. It’s something I’m going to have to get used to, or at least make peace with, if we’re going to stay together. Which I hope we do. Since the moment he asked me to be his boy, I haven’t doubted that we were meant to be. He was ‘the one’ five years ago, and he still is now.
The match starts. I try to keep track of where Tanner is while Savannah explains what’s happening. I only hear half of what she says due to the noise of the crowd behind and around us, and I understand less than that. All I know is that the big players, like Tanner, go in the scrum, and the small guys, like Luis, are the ones that get the ball and run down the pitch to the scoreline while everyone else tries to slam into them and stop them. Just before half time, a Saracen is carried off the pitch with a suspected head injury, and a substitute takes his place. Even though he’s on the opposite team, my heart is still in my throat as he’s taken off.
“Will he be okay?” I ask Savannah.
“Probably. It didn’t look that bad. They take head injuries seriously these days. They don’t take any chances. He’ll get well looked after. Don’t you worry.”
“These days?”
“Yes. They know more about the long-term effects of head injuries on rugby players than they did a few years ago.”
“Long-term effects?”
She squeezes my arm. “Don’t worry about it. Tanner is more likely to get a shoulder or knee injury than a head injury.”
“Or a bloody nose,” Jodie, the woman on the other side of me, says.
I stare at them both, open-mouthed.
“That didn’t help, did it?” Savannah asks.
I shake my head.
“The first time you see Tanner with a bloody nose or his arm in a sling will be the worse. After that, you get used to it.”
I’m unsure I want to get used to seeing Tanner get hurt, but it’s a peril of the game he loves. I have to get used to it, whether I like it or not.
There’s a twenty-minute break between halves. Even if I knew how to get to the changing rooms, I doubt I’d be allowed in there to give Tanner a hug. I wait with Savannah and the others and listen as they plan a pamper day while their partners and husbands are in Exeter next Saturday for their game against Exeter Chiefs.
“You should come too,” Savannah says.
“I’m not sure.”
