Redemption (7 page)

Had he really changed that much? Or was this all just part of the act? He still spoke like a cocky asshole and didn’t sound at all apologetic for the way he treated me back in 2007. I thought for a moment that he was on the verge of apologizing when Maisie ran over and interrupted, but even if he had, it would have been eight years too late. 

I suppose the way I spoke to him was just as bad. I didn’t want to snap at him all the time, but I couldn’t help it. Everything he said made me irrationally mad, and I ended up taking my anger out on him. He’d done a nice thing for Maisie, and yet all I could do was accuse him of trying to curry my favor. 

As if he need bother. If he wanted sex, all he had to do was snap his fingers and every girl around here would come running, as would most of the moms. Christ, even some of the dads would probably look twice.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t insisted on wearing his rugby gear for training. He had on a tight pair of shorts that did nothing to hide the bulging muscles in his legs, and the jersey fit snuggly around his pecs, leaving his biceps practically uncovered. 

I managed to avoid staring at him until he walked off to take training, but he still caught me. I didn’t look away; if he mentioned it later I planned to tell him I was looking at the view in the distance and hadn’t noticed him. He’d never believe it, but it was better to lie than look away and blush like the sixteen-year-old schoolgirl I had been when we’d first met.

After the disaster in the World Cup Final, Oliver had made it clear he hated rugby and wanted no further part in it, but he did eventually start playing again for West London. He never went back to the national team, but I didn’t know if that was his choice or not. 

Looking at him now, it was clear that rugby was in his blood. Rugby balls were larger than footballs and harder to hold, but in Oliver’s hands it was like another limb that he had full control of. He split the girls into two teams; one for Terry to coach and one for Oliver. Terry had already spotted that Maisie was one of the stronger players, and he insisted she play on his team. 

Oliver put the girls through a few drills and even from a hundred yards away I could tell they were hanging on his every word. After an hour the two teams played a game of seven versus seven. 

Terry had clearly instructed his team to pass to Maisie whenever she was open, but Oliver had predicted that and made stopping her his goal. It worked. Maisie received the ball often enough, but never had anywhere to run. She was at her strongest when she’d had a few yards to gain speed, but with no room to move she ended up getting tackled for little gain.

I didn’t like watching Maisie get tackled, but it would do her good to be taken down a peg or two. I loved her confidence, but rugby was a team sport, and individuals with big heads were often ostracized. It was a miracle Oliver was still playing, come to think of it.

Maisie looked frustrated by the end of the game, but Oliver went straight over to her and took her to one side. I walked over, close enough to overhear, but not close enough to interrupt them, and heard him explain how he stopped her and what she needs to do to improve. Maisie soon smiled and looked raring to go, desperate for another crack at the opposition forwards that had stopped her last time.

I kept watching Oliver as he went to the girls one-by-one and gave them tips on what they could do to improve. He looked like a natural coach with them. How was this the same person who was photographed with scantily-clad women almost as much as he was with a rugby ball? 

Maybe I just focused more on the photos of him with other women. They certainly stood out in my mind, even now. Oliver Cornish was supposed to be a player. A young superstar who had burst onto the scene and disappeared just as quickly before making a big comeback. 

Now he spent his spare time teaching young girls how to play rugby for nothing more than the thrill of seeing people play the game. 

After talking to all the girls, Oliver told them he was moving on to another age group, but that he would be back tomorrow. A chorus of groans went up as he walked away. He never waved goodbye to me or even looked in my direction.

So far he’d spent more time with Maisie than with me, but I could hardly blame him. I hadn’t said a nice word to him this entire time, and he didn’t deserve that. Eight years was a long time. Maisie hadn’t spent the last eight years blaming me for what happened to her; I’d blamed myself more than enough to make up for that. 

Maybe I should move on, forgive and forget the mistakes he’d made, and see if we could be friends. Was it possible to be friends with someone like Oliver? Maisie was certainly friends with him, but she didn’t look at him the way I did. Thank God. She was far too young to look at Oliver the way I did. 

I, on the other hand, was old enough and sensible enough to know better. That way led to trouble, but I didn’t seem to want to turn back. This time I wanted to walk head-on into danger, and damn the consequences. 

I’d changed in eight years, and I hoped to God Oliver had as well.

By around two o’clock, I’d introduced myself to all the girls’ age groups and taken a few light training sessions with each of them. I had the rest of the afternoon free, but I couldn’t leave. If I went home, I wouldn’t be able to think of anything other than Michelle, so I might as well stay here where I could at least look at her.

I didn’t want to show any signs of favouritism, so instead of hanging out with Terry and coaching Maisie’s team, I headed over to the under-fifteen boys team where Shaun was training despite having turned fifteen a few weeks ago. 

None of the boys knew Shaun’s father had been a famous player. I’d insisted on keeping that a secret because I didn’t want him to get any extra attention. He’d gotten it anyway. Shaun was a damn fine player, and the others figured that out quickly. 

As with Maisie, the second the ball was in his hands, players would start running at him, everyone wanting to be the guy who made the tackle.

Shaun took it all in his stride, as he always did. He was quiet and unassuming—the opposite of Maisie—and didn’t let the attention go to his head. He took after his father a bit in that respect. I’d been a cocky young eighteen-year-old when I first met Shaun’s dad, but he took me under his wing and brought me down a peg or two in the process.

Shaun had a wealth of talent and his coach had already suggested moving him up an age group. I advised against it. I didn’t want him advancing too quickly and losing his childhood; I knew only too well what damage that could do to a young man. Especially when word got out about who his father was, which it almost certainly would do.

I still didn’t know how Michelle was going to react to my relationship with Shaun. Would she be impressed? It could be seen as another sign that I had grown up since I’d been an immature eighteen-year-old. I’d not taken on responsibility for Shaun to show maturity, but if Michelle chose to see it that way then I damn sure wasn’t going to complain.

Michelle was still standing there watching Maisie train. Would she do that every day this summer? I sure as hell hoped so. Having someone like her to look at would certainly make the days go by faster. 

She never turned to look in my direction. I thought I’d caught her looking at me earlier, but maybe I’d been wrong. I wanted her to show some kind of sign that she was interested in me, but so far I’d only seen disdain. 

I was so used to women wanting me on sight that it hardly occurred to me that Michelle wouldn’t be the same. Arrogant, I know, but it was an opinion built on years of experience of women throwing themselves at me. After a while, that kind of thing does tend to go to your head.

All the training sessions were supposed to finish at the same time, so if I stuck around until the end of Shaun’s session then maybe I could bump into Michelle again on the way back to the car. I felt like a school kid sometimes, but I had to take things slow with her, or I might scare her off completely. Besides, Shaun would probably want a lift home, so that could be my excuse for staying to the end.

Shaun had dominated most of the practice sessions already, but in the last half hour he started running rings around everyone else because his higher fitness levels gave him a huge advantage over the others, who were now bent over trying to catch their breath at every stoppage. 

Shaun hated appearing arrogant, so he would make an effort to pass the ball around more instead of running through for tries even though he could have done so easily. I never would have done that, but Shaun was a better person than me, despite being eleven years my junior.

When the coach blew the whistle and signified the end of training, Shaun walked straight over to me and barely looked out of breath. 

“You alright?” I asked. “How was it?” 

“Fine,” Shaun replied, as quiet as ever.

“Are you going to go hang out with the other kids now?” 

“No, I don’t think anyone has made any plans. I’ll just go home with you.”

I’d overheard enough conversations today to know that wasn’t true. Each age group had agreed to meet up at which ever “hang out point” was appropriate for their ages. The pretence was to get to know each other better, but most of them would use it as an excuse to hook up with someone else for a summer romance. 

Shaun didn’t do well socialising in large groups. He was far too quiet and reserved. I’d been trying to bring him out of his shell for years, but with little success. I considered encouraging him to go out, but decided against it. The summer training camp lasted for twelve weeks, which gave him plenty of time to make friends. He might be quiet, but everyone who got close to the kid fell in love with him. He’d make friends eventually.

“Come on then, mate,” I said. “Let’s head home. You’re going to sleep well tonight.”

We made our way towards the car park, although we had to walk quickly to make sure we ‘accidentally’ bumped into Michelle and Maisie, who had been about to leave without saying goodbye. Michelle almost looked annoyed when Maisie ran over to speak to us. Like Shaun, she seemed to be bursting with energy still.

“That was so much fun,” Maisie said, as if I couldn’t tell from the huge grin lighting up her face. “I’ve never had a training session that good before.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I replied. “Although you’re supposed to look a little more tired. I’ll have to tell Terry to push you a bit harder from now on.”

“She’s the only person I know who gets more energy from jet lag, not less,” Michelle said, walking up behind Maisie. “I’m exhausted.” 

“So I take it you won’t want to join me for dinner tonight?” I asked hopefully. 

“No, sorry,” she replied. “Like I said, I’m too tired for anything other than sleep right now.” 

“Maybe another time.”

“Maybe.” 

I caught Maisie frown at the chill reaction Michelle had to my friendly suggestion for dinner. I was fairly sure Maisie was oblivious to my feelings for Michelle—even though I’d often asked about her—but it was dangerous to underestimate Maisie. That girl was freakishly perceptive.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Maisie asked, nodding towards Shaun who had been stood silently beside me. Shaun was tall for his age and rarely blended into the background, but he looked slight compared to my more muscular frame. 

“Sorry,” I muttered. “This is Shaun. Shaun, this is Maisie and this is Michelle. They’re from America.”

“We’re his sisters,” Maisie said as she offered her hand to Shaun. Shaun shook her hand gingerly and then did the same with Michelle.

“Step-sisters,” Michelle and I both said at the same time. At least we were thinking along the same lines on that one.

“Nice to meet you both,” Shaun said politely. 

An awkward silence hung in the air as Michelle and Maisie waited for me to explain who Shaun was and why we were heading home together. 

I typically said we were brothers, because there was only an eleven-year age gap between us. 
Shaun being black meant I had to pretend my parents had adopted him, but people were respectful enough of that these days. Unfortunately, Michelle and Maisie knew my family situation well enough to know that I did not have an adopted brother.