Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Baird moved toward me and limped, flinching. “Maia—”
I reached for the handle.
“Maia, please.” The words were guttural. “I’m sorry, I …”
“I’m clearly not the right person to do it, but please find someone to talk to. For your sake. For your mum and your sister’s. They don’t deserve to go through seeing you in the hospital like that again. Or worse.” Fear of the future crashed down on me, but I forced the words out. “You’re off the hook. I’ll tell Christina and Hilary the truth. You’re a free man. Don’t call me ever again, Baird. I don’t need another person like you in my life making me feel like shit about myself.” I slipped out of the flat, slamming the door shut behind me.
The tears came as soon as he was out of my sight. I swiped at them angrily beneath my glasses and hurried to Grace’s car. As I swung it around, Baird limped out of the flat, trying to wave me down.
I was too hurt to stop.
This hurt worse than leaving Will.
Therefore, I did what I’d been doing since I was a kid, my only defense to survive my mum. I hardened my heart against Baird, drawing on the numbness that had gotten me through the worst last years with her.
By the time I parked up on Hart Street Lane, Baird had charged his phone and was calling me. Remembering how he had a habit of turning up at my door, I restarted the car and drove to Beth and Callan’s, only three minutes from my place.
Dad and Grace would just get angry at Baird if they saw me right now. Weirdly, there was a part of me that didn’t want that.
Beth and Callan loved Baird.
They were Switzerland.
I needed Switzerland for the night.
Beth was surprised to hear my voice on the other side of the intercom and the concerned look on her face only grew more so at whatever she saw on mine when she opened the door to their penthouse flat.
Callan hovered at her back.
“Maia, what’s wrong?”
“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked, my voice sounding strange even to my ears.
“Of course.” My cousin ushered me inside, shooting her fiancé worried glances. “Maia, what happened?”
I shook my head. “Can I explain later?”
“Okay.”
“I’m tired.” I sounded like a robot.
“I’ll show you to the guest room.”
“Don’t tell Baird where I am.” I turned to Callan. He pinched his lips together but nodded. “Thanks.” Numbly, I followed Beth down a hall to their guest room.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked quietly.
I shook my head, slowly lowering onto the bed. “I just want to sleep.”
“Maia, you’re freaking me out.”
Guilt suffused me. I was crashing at their flat and acting like a weirdo. I tried to infuse some feeling into my words. “I’m fine. I’m avoiding Baird. I’ll explain in the morning.” When the truth would finally come out.
I was going to lose my job tomorrow.
I’d lost Baird.
And I’d lost my job.
I clung to the numbness like I was hanging on to a cliff for dear life. Because if I let go, my cousin would witness an emotional breakdown the likes of which would embarrass me for the rest of my life.
“Tomorrow,” Beth whispered and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
It was deeply unsettling … how quickly your life could change.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BAIRD
Abang woke me up from a fitful sleep.
Exhaustion pulled at my eyelids, my limbs; my back hurt, my arse was numb, and my sprained ankle throbbed like a motherfucker. Scrubbing my face, my beard prickling against my palms, I tried to wake up. Nausea rolled through my stomach, and not just from a lack of sleep, as I blinked against the light now spilling across the landing outside Maia’s flat.
I scrambled for my phone to check the time.
Six thirty and she hadn’t come home.
Worry gnawed at my gut.
Along with remorse and self-loathing.
Last night was a big fucking wake-up call.
Aye, okay. I could admit it. I was messed up about cracking my skull open last year.
I didn’t want to face the fact that I was scared every time I walked onto the pitch now. I didn’t want to face that it had fundamentally changed how I felt about a sport that was so much a part of me, I considered it a piece of my personality.
Football had been the one thing in my life I was class at. School had never come easy because I hated having to sit still for long periods. Reading and spelling had never been my thing, and I was better at digesting information through more interactive mediums.
I constantly felt like I was failing in the classroom. But the football pitch was where I excelled. It became the place where I could play out all my frustrations and worries, all the adolescent anger I’d felt toward the dad who had abandoned me. It was the place where I succeeded and made my family proud. It was the place I found blokes just like me who had become an extension of my family.