“Oh, so now mah son’s a scratch-n-win ticket ye wasted on the wrong jackpot?”
“I don’t even know what that means! ”
Amy steps away, so the rest of their bickering is muted. Her tense face fills the screen and she lets out a choked, miserable sound. “They’re calling each other fruit again,” she says, voice low and shaky. “Your mother just accused my mother of being a worm in an apple.”
“Aye, that tracks.”
“And Mom called her the bruise.”
“We’re movin’ into produce warfare now.”
Amy swipes furiously at her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Hamish. I am so sorry I yelled at your mother, but she can’t talk to me like that—especially after the way she spoke to you . Is that how you grew up? Being belittled and shamed for not performing well at soccer–I mean, football?”
Behind her, Jason and Da dart past like overwhelmed referees. “Ladies, ladies,” Jason pleads. “Let’s not throw anything breakable ?—”
“Stay out of this, Jason!” Marie barks.
“Fiona,” Da tries gently. “Maybe let Amy and Hamish decide?—”
“Not one more word, Fergus,” Mum snaps. “Unless ye fancy a night in the shed, sleeping wi’ the dusty golf bags!”
Amy turns the camera back to herself. Her hands are shaking.
“She made it sound like I don’t respect you.
Like I don’t care about your family. But that ring—it’s not just a ring to her, it’s some kind of test, and I’m failing.
” She reaches into her pocket and shows me the little velvet bag.
"I have it right here. Waiting for you."
"Ach, hen,” I murmur. The nurse pretends not to stare from the doorway while Dr. Jelshi hovers nearby with Coach and Jody. They're all watching like they expect me to either burst into tears or rip out my IV and leap to my feet.
As if I could.
“I promise ye,” I tell her. “We’ll get through this.”
She sniffles. “How?”
I exhale. “No bloody clue. But we’ll figure it out together.”
She gives a watery laugh just as another crash makes her flinch. “Okay, I’ve got to go. They’re about to start throwing the good china.”
“Amy—”
The screen goes dark.
I stare at my reflection in the blank glass and drop the phone to my chest with a sigh.
Forget torn cartilage. This is the injury I’ll never recover from.
Jody leans into my sight. “Everything all right?”
I close my eyes. “Define ‘all right,’ mate. Define ‘all right.’”
I should be asleep, but the day won't let me. The painkiller's worn off, the lights are dim, and my belly's full of a bunch of food that would make my nutritionist light the hospital cafeteria on fire, but as the melee of what's happened fades into the past, my skin still rattles.
What a day.
What a mess I've made of it.
A bloody mess.
How could I miss Blavek's kick? I wonder for the thousandth time. My eyes catch everything on the pitch, merging with my breath, my ears, my hands, my everything. I am one organism out there, no longer different organs or senses, but this time - this one time - I failed.
And it cost me my proposal. Maybe my career.
I shift my hips and nearly scream, someone hammering a spike into my knee. It's the kind of pain that makes her nerves twang and your stomach sour, a thin sweat breaking out on my skin.
It's not the pain that scares me.
It's the intensity. The uncertainty. I've never felt this before.
And what if it doesn't go away?
What if I just threw away everything good in my life because I wasn't paying attention? Wasn't careful enough? Shrewd enough?
I swallow, hard.
Wasn't good enough?
"Fuck," I mutter quietly, as if just saying the word takes a little pressure out of my chest. It doesn't.
I don't think anything will.
Tap tap tap
The door opens and I expect yet another nurse with flirty eyes and caressing hands, come to check the temperature of my little toe or something like that.
Instead, it's the most beautiful woman in the world.
"Amy?" I say, hearing my eagerness, my exhaustion, my desperation in my own voice. "It's late! Ye should be at home, sleepin'."
"I can't. I left Mom and Dad's after the, uh..."
“Fiona FaceTime Follies?"
"Right. Went back to my apartment but I couldn't. I just couldn't go there without seeing you first. You scared me so much, Hamish."
"Scared ye? Tha's the least o' what I did ta ye, hen. I'm so sorry. I really bungled it all. Destroyed everything." I smack my forehead. "I should have seen Blavek. Bloody hell."
"It was a freak thing."
"No," I say firmly. "It was ma failing. I should have caught it. Avoided it. Evaded it and turned the kick against him ta give our team an advantage. I failed everyone."
"Hamish." Alarm shines in her eyes. "No. Sometimes things happen. Statistically, you've played so much that - "
"Dinna care about statistics. I'm no' a stat. I'm a man who's meant ta play better. Didna get where I am by bein' a number."
"That's not what I meant," she says, wrapping those sweet arms around me, curling against ma body in the wee wedge of the bed I can give her.
She smells so good, a bit musky, like salt and vanilla.
I want to make love to her right now, sink into sweet Amy and forget my worries, but the cruel irony of my knee sinks in.
I can't even sleep my way through this catastrophe.
"I love ye, Amy. Today was supposed ta be about ye. About us. No' about me bein' a numpty and takin' a hit sae bad."
"You're not a numpty."
"I - "
Her soft fingers cover my lips, intense eyes on mine. "Stop beating yourself up. I won't hear it. You do not get to be so cruel to the man I love."
Could I love this woman more?
"I was goin' ta propose on one knee, down on the ground in a kilt, the world our stage, Amy.
Askin' ye ta be ma wife was going ta be a spectacle like nae other.
We'd be the center of it all, the whirling, swirling energy of all the well-wishers making us rise up.
" I close my eyes. "I can feel it inside me, but then the knee. " I groan, eyes still closed.
"It's not too late."
"It is fer ma knee."
"Open your eyes, Hamish."
I do. She's holding the ring box between us. She smiles.
"Ask me again. Properly. I'd rather marry you than a pool noodle."
"A what?"
"Never mind."
"Ye canna drop a comment like that on me and no' explain it."
"You don't remember what happened after you were hit?"
"Nae the pool noodle part."
"Then ask me for the first time," she says softly. "Right here, right now. I want to wear your ring. But I want you to put it on me."
I perk up. She's speaking my language. It's called Happiness and the number of people who are fluent in it is far too small worldwide.
Her hand is small in mine, but I take it, then flip the box open with my other thumb. Her eyes are shining and so's my heart.
"This is what matters," I tell her. "The fans would have cheered us on, and we'd have made them so happy if we'd done this proper in front of them, but what matters is that we love each other. Yer the one woman in the world who kens how to make ma world better."
"And you're the only man who makes me feel like love is a verb."
"I do enjoy verbing ye.”
She smiles, but I go serious. It's needed in a moment like this. The most serious moment of all.
"Amy Amelia Jacoby, will ye be ma wife? Ma real wife, and not whatever blather I spat out on the pitch earlier?
Will ye walk through life wi' me, and make me thank God every day in gratitude that he let me meet ye?
Yer such a fine woman and it would be a shame fer ye to waste yer life on a man like me, but I'll spend the rest o' ma days proving to ye that ye made a good choice. "
She laughs softly. "You really, really have a way with words."
"There's no crowd here. No coaches, no teammates, no family. Just ye, me, and the monitors, the steady heartbeat on the screen showing its love fer ye. Please, Amy. I'm so lucky to have found ye. Will ye let me keep ye forever?"
"Yes, yes, of course yes." I slip the ring on her finger and realize I can't move.
"Sorry, pet, but ye'll have ta do all the work if ye want a kiss."
She does.
Thank God she does.
The monitors beep faster, and she breaks first. "I really do have an effect on you."
"There's nae monitor for ma todger, but it would be goin' up, too."
She laughs as she hugs me, and my knee decides to turn into a torture chamber, but I grit my teeth and ignore it. My ring is on her finger.
Her heart is in my heart.
We're one now, and I couldn't ask for anyone better.
I'm the luckiest man in the world.
Knee and all.
Table of Contents
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- Page 11
- Page 12 (Reading here)
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