Page 13 of The Game

I clasped a hand over my mouth. Shit, the Lancashire Lion was talking about me. Did he think I'd consider doing that? My body tensed, my pulse thudding in my ears. How dare he.

Bailey spoke again, voice harsh. "You're no captain. You're a joke. You should have stayed retired mate, better for everyone." There was a pause before he continued. "I don't want to do anything with her. I'm just trying to make up for you being an obnoxious prick."

Hey, they were my words. I'd been planning on being the first one to call Jase Willis an obnoxious prick for the past fifteen days. There were other words I wanted to use, but I was saving them up until he tipped me over the edge of no return—which would be quick the way things were going.

I refused to let them talk about me anymore. I marched straight in there, slamming the door against the wall. Bailey's cheeks flamed, but I held the palm of my hand up to him. "It's okay." Turning, I found the Lancashire Lion watching me through hooded lids that lowered to slits. "This ends, now. This atmosphere can't carry on, and I can tell you right now I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere so you need to get your head around that. This team is going to win, and that's all there is to it, with or without your help."

I wanted to say more but a obstructive lump formed in my throat, so I spun and left the room, slamming the door.

Three minutes later the team surrounded me on the grass and we went through our warm-ups as we waited for Waller to come down with his infamous clipboard and announce the team.

I was walking out to my car after another exhausting training session when Bailey jogged along next to me. Somehow his dark hair made the bright pink of the team tracksuit look slightly more manly. "Thanks for putting me in the team."

I grinned. "Hey, you did all the work. I just gave you the golden nod."

He laughed. “The golden nod. Hey, I like it.” His face dropped a fraction. “Listen, Lys." We were by my car, and I opened the door, but he held it still in his firm grip. "I'm sorry about what you heard me saying."

Shaking my head, I placed a hand on his shoulder. It was rock hard. Not that this was the time to be noticing such a thing, but you know. "It's not a problem."

He shrugged and stepped away, heading for his own sports car. As I turned to lower into my seat, I found icy eyes watching me through judgmental slits.

Go to hell. I was sure he was on his way there anyway.

I gave him a cheery wave, my pulse racing, and shut the door, not bothering to watch his reaction.

Walking into the house and finding it full of my parent's belongings and hearing my mum chat with Maria in the kitchen made a warm familiar flood rush through my veins. It was like sinking my feet into a pair of worn slippers; even the noises in the house were comforting. I wanted to cry, but I refused to allow the tears to fall, and I point blank refused to let my family know just how hideous these last few weeks had been. "Hey, Coach," Dad called from the lounge, and I poked my head through the doorway and found him on the sofa with the sports pages across his knees. He lifted his glasses and perched them on top of his head, giving the bridge of his nose a rub. Dad looked so much like my older brother it always took my breath away. The same dark wavy hair, although Dad’s was streaked with silver in a way that Anthony's would never be. They had the same lean, long body shape, tall and powerful and built for bowling fast. Although, Dad’s had got a little thicker around the middle of late.

"Was the sun too much for you?" I laughed and bent down to kiss his cheek. "You do look like a bit of old shoe leather."

"Now, Alyssa, you know I'd never miss the first game of a season." It was true he hadn't.

"But you can't keep flying in from Spain every time there's 'the first' game."

Dad stood, rubbing his knees before clapping an arm around my shoulders. "What else am I supposed to do? I'm retired, there's only so much golf and sangria an old man can cope with before I get sent to my ever after with a pickled liver and skin you could use for a handbag."

I loved that man. He could always make a smile spread from my lips to my heart no matter what sort of day I’d had. My body unwound slowly just standing next to him.

Chuckling, I smacked him lightly on the tummy. "You aren't old."

"Tell my knees." He cringed.

"Blimey, I must be ancient then."

Dad's eyes flickered over me. "Are they still playing up?" I knew he held onto a misplaced hope that one day I would play again, and was confident my knees, which had prevented me driving and walking up and down stairs a few short months ago, would suddenly be strong enough to play again. How have you been coping in team practice? Aren't you struggling to keep up with the players?" A frown furrowed between his eyes and a burn began to seep around the neck of my T-shirt.

"You should see Sammy catch, that's boy’s got safe hands." I deflected the conversation away from my creaking bones as we walked towards the kitchen and found Sammy sat at the breakfast bar like an angel, doing his homework. Behind Dad's back, I stuck my tongue out at him. He's such a bloody suck up for the oldies. He just grasped his pencil tighter and frowned at his page.

"Alyssa, my baby." My mother grabbed me by her hands and yanked me in for a floral scented fuelled hug, which made my nose twitch. Clearly, she'd been at the duty-free again.

I was twenty-five. I didn't know when I was going to stop being Mum's baby. She'd been worse of late, although I couldn't blame her.

She cried as she always did when she hugged me and I stood there and took it. Taking one for the team as Anthony used to call it. "Now, now," she said brushing at her face and giving a dramatic sniff. "Tell me everything. Sammy's been filling us in. Apparently, he's going to meet the Lancashire Lion tomorrow?"

Shit.

"Uh, well, yeah maybe." I didn't quite know how to tell them that the Lancashire Lion hated me and refused to breathe the same air as me on a regular basis.

Sammy's eyes locked onto my face. "Aunty Lyssi, you promised."