Page 8 of Provoking the Punter

“Unexpected, but I guess no one expects appendicitis. I think because I kicked in college, it wasn’t that unfamiliar.” And while there’d been extra practice, he’d fucked up one field goal but managed to redeem himself with the next one.

Ross tossed the ball.

This time, Garrett kept hold of it. “So I’ll join the squad on Monday?”

“Yes, and we’ll see what happens. You want to toss that back to me?”

He was already fighting for that spot. The game had already started, and they all knew that. Garrett drew in a breath. “Do you mind if I take a bit of time while no one’s here to walk some drills? It feels like it’s been more than a few days since I’ve done any training.”

“Not at all. Mind if I watch?”

Garrett smiled. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

He suspected they were all busy assessing him and trying to figure out why the Copperheads had gotten rid of him. He was a riddle they were trying to unravel.

If they did, would they like what they found?

CHAPTER

FOUR

By the time Monday morning rolled around, Garrett no longer felt as though he was drowning. The routine wasn’t that much different, and if he clung to it, he would be fine. Yesterday’s game had ended with a loss, and he had cheered and winced, groaned and swore along with every other player on the team.

He had today’s schedule memorized. After the morning weights session, he would attend the team meetings, something he usually enjoyed—it was better to learn what needed to be worked on instead of working on everything. After that, he’d step onto the field to train with the rest of the team for the first time. That was the bit that had his stomach turning.

His father had called again over the weekend and left another message. That was the one call he hadn’t returned, and he couldn’t keep putting it off. With the time difference, calling him on the twenty-minute drive to the facility meant it was late for his dad and he was on a time limit.

As he hit Call he hoped his father wouldn’t answer.

His luck wasn’t that good.

“I thought you were ignoring me,” his father said as a greeting. No one would ever make the mistake of calling him sentimental.

“Moving interstate has kept me busy.” Garrett pulled out of the hotel parking lot. The traffic was crazy busy this morning with everyone heading to work. Austin traffic was a nightmare he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to..

“So what did you do?”

Not, “How are you coping? Is there anything I can do? It sounds like a shit situation. I wish I could be there for you, son.” Certainly not, “Whatever happens, I still love you.”

No, his father hadn’t said that in over ten years.

It was etched in his heart, in his mind, and on his skin.

“Got into a disagreement with the wrong person.” The wrong person being the coach’s wife who didn’t care that it was a random hookup, not a long-term affair. Was it easier for her to believe it meant something rather than her husband enjoyed hooking up with random men.

He wished it hadn’t been him there, that it had been some other guy who turned up while the wife lay in wait because she suspected something was going on.

He couldn’t even tell his father the truth.

He’d told his mum he was gay, and she’d told him it was best they kept it between them. That if he wanted to play football, he needed to be careful. He’d been taller than her at fourteen, but she’d held him that day as if he would forever be her baby.

He blinked to clear his eyes and pushed aside the memory. He’d remember her properly on the anniversary of her death. He always gave himself an hour to wallow and usually called his brother.

“Couldn’t keep your mouth closed. It’s always getting you in trouble,” his father said as if he still knew him. That first year after his mother’s death, yeah, his mouth had gotten him into trouble. He’d been dropped from the team, and not just because of his attitude, but because of his father’s refusal to drive him, and his brother wasn’t always available. It had been a shit year.

The following year, he’d gotten his license and gotten back on the team. But it wasn’t the same. The pressure had been on to choose: was he going to go to uni or playing football? He wasn’t good enough at either.

“Yeah.” It was easier to agree with his father than to argue. “I’ve already had my balls busted by everyone else.” So I don’t need you to do it. The people who mattered and who impacted his career had taken the first shot. “I’m not up for more of the same. I just wanted to tell you I’ve settled in, and I’m about to head into training.”