I smile at him. “You may have blocked some powerful team strategies and cost us the season’s flag.”
He chuckles. “I’ll give you the caffeine to jumpstart your thoughts instead and supply butcher’s paper.”
The lads chuckle, and Oliver agrees to lay some paper over our table. I can only imagine what will be written, or drawn, and not necessarily all football-focused.
The rest of the morning continues with the guys discussing our training before the conversation switches to the weekend.
“What are your plans, Nemo?”
Nemo. When will they drop it? “Going for a surf tomorrow. Having a lazy one.”
“You coming out with us tomorrow night?”
“Nope. Staying in.” Because I’ll be with Macy. I tune out as they plan their Saturday night preferring to watch her walk across the room toward us balancing coffees on a tray. Her expression is one of concentration, one I recognise, especially when her eyes are closed. How am I going to get through tomorrow night without touching her?
I tell the guys I’ll pay the bill and not to wait for me. The cost is worth the few extra minutes I get with Macy.
I finish typing a message to Chance before standing from the table.
“Any rubbish you want me to take away for you? Menus?”
I glance up to her beautiful face—her cheeks have a touch of colour, and her smile is subtle.
I slide my coffee mug toward her. When she leans to collect it, she slides a napkin toward me.
Living my life without you gets harder every day,
I miss seeing your smiling face.
My seams are starting to fray.
It hurts not having you in my life,
This much I know.
I hope one day I can convince you,
To give us another go.
I fold the napkin in half, blow out a long breath.
“Mace.” I meet her gaze and hold it. “There’s nothing I want more, but you know we need to discuss this because from h-here…” my voice cracks, “… there’s no more fooling around.”
Her cheeks redden. “I know,” she whispers. She walks away and straight through the door to the kitchen.
Shit.
I take a napkin, stare at it a few seconds before standing. Writing a note and leaving it for her is going backward. We’re beyond the notes on tables. I pay the bill to Tara and walk outside and stand by the post near the window. I pull out my phone and send her a message.
It was easier to receive your notes telling me to get lost.
I don’t know where to start…
I told you I love you. I still do.
Nothing has changed.
Love you enough not to take a future from you that you deserve.
So we’ll talk tomorrow night.
No matter what happens, I want you to know you’ll always own a piece of my heart.
Before I reach my car, my phone dings with a message.
No matter what happens…
It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind?
I’m trying here, and you shutting me down is killing me.
Don’t do this to me while I’m at work.
I stop reading and call her, expecting it to go to voicemail.
“Reef, I can’t—”
“Give me a moment, Mace. I’m not shutting you down. I’m not pushing you away. I only want you to be sure because I know if we get back together, it’s not going to be like it was. With you, it’s different. There’s no going back. And there are things blocking us from moving forward.”
“Okay, I get it. I can’t talk now,” she rasps.
I stare at my blank phone.
Shit, she’s gone.
Fuck.
Sitting in the locker room for a post-training meeting, my elbows rest on my knees while I listen to the coach. My limbs are heavy like I’m weighted down with lead. Not the best idea to surf at the crack of dawn, but when I couldn’t sleep after thinking about Macy, I needed to do something. I ran extra laps before training to distract myself, knowing tonight could make or break us.
“What were you thinking out there, Burton?”
My head snaps up, and I look the coach in the eyes.
He shoves a finger in my direction. “If you keep playing at this level, you’ll be lucky to make the team. There are plenty of fresh legs waiting to take your spot the minute you fuck up, and after today, they’ll get their chance sooner than we all expect.” He takes a breath, brows draw tight. “Pull your head in.”
I give him a curt nod.
When he finishes his rant to every player as I wasn’t the only one to train like crap, I make my way to the shower, then get changed.
“You meeting us at Lombardi’s?” Hunter asks.
“Not today, so don’t wait for me.”
Hunter frowns, and I wait for what he’s going to say next. “And you’re having a quiet one tonight?”
“Yep.”
He nods. Yeah, he’s worked me out. “So, I’ll see you…”
“Tomorrow. Beach recovery session. Don’t get smashed tonight.”
He chuckles and walks away.
Tossing my towel and sweaty training gear in my bag, I’m surprised when the coach takes a seat beside me.
“I know player contracts are discussed with managers and club directors, but you and I need a quiet word. I want to know where your head is at. We’re aware you’ll be out of contract come the end of the season, and we’ve all heard the whispers you hope to be traded to a Melbourne team, but I’m not going to have you waste my time, and the team’s, if you don’t want to be here now. It’s going to be a long season, gruelling, and I intend to up the intensity. Every spot is up for grabs. You may be the best wingman going around, but if you’re not performing, I won’t hesitate to give one of our recruits a chance to prove himself, especially if the club is not your number one priority. Your choice. So, whatever is distracting you at the moment, get over it.” He stands and leaves me alone on the bench.
I am the last one remaining.
It’s so damn quiet I can hear the sound of air leaving my tight chest with each expiration.
My distractions help me to stay focused. Otherwise, I’ll be thinking about my problems.
So how do I get over what I love?
Change of plans.
Meet me at the dog park off South Terrace in the parklands at 3pm.
What is she up to?
I toss my phone aside as I finish changing into a button shirt suitable for a dinner date because there’s no way I’m staying at her house.
After finding a carpark near the parklands, I make my way across the grass to where thirty or more dogs run and bark with the freedom of being off a leash. I enter the gates with another couple battling a German Shepherd and an oversized mountain dog. I glance over to the yapping Chihuahua and want to yell, run.
Beyond the dogs, big and small, and owners chatting with other owners, I search for Macy. She sits on a bench, her long, dark hair is blowing around her face, and she’s smiling as though she’s enjoying my bewilderment. She’s wearing a blue maxi dress and flip-flops—simple and stunning. Admittedly, she could wear any old thing, and in my eyes, still look like a million dollars.