Play On (Game On 4)

“Where’s my dinner?” Bree asked, and I jumped. My feet had carried me to the dining room while lost in thoughts. Her wide eyes were on me, her smile hopeful and I chuckled.

“They didn’t need any help.” I took the empty seat beside Miguel. “Dinner’s just coming.”

Miguel reached over and gently touched my hand. “Are you okay?”

I glanced down to his fingers which had closed around mine. If there had been another option, I wouldn’t have sat beside him, but it was the only place left aside from Leah and Radleigh’s preferred seats. My stomach rolled with discomfort for thinking that way. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him around. I still cared for him the way I always had; still needed him as much as I needed everyone else, but keeping my distance was key to coping.

I nodded. “Yeah, I was just thinking.”

About someone other than me. Feels weird. I’d been locked in my own world of sadness for so long it almost felt good to think about someone else’s problems. Obviously, I didn’t want Leah and Radleigh to have problems. They’d worked hard to get their relationship on track, and with a baby on the way they didn’t need any drama.

Had I been selfish? If I hadn’t been so concerned with my misery, would I have noticed something was amiss? Similar to my careless comment to Bryce, maybe I’d stomped around, oblivious to anyone else’s pain without realising. The thought humbled me. I wasn’t the only one suffering.

“Are you worried about work tomorrow?” Bree asked as Leah and Radleigh entered the room, each carrying two plates of steaming hot lasagne.

“I haven’t thought about it yet,” I admitted, still shaken by the realisation I’d been missing out on vital parts of my friends’ worlds for the last few months. “I guess I’ll take it a step at a time. I’m only going for an hour tomorrow.” I shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Chapter 2 – Kick It Like a Bryce Warren Strike

Only an hour.

I could do this.

One hour. Sixty minutes. An amount of seconds I didn’t have the brain power to calculate. It all equalled time spent at that place. I had to kick the fear. Kick it like a Bryce Warren strike and hit the target so I could start putting my life together again.

So why was I standing in the Westberg Warriors parking lot with my heart beating out of my chest again?

“Come on, Freya,” I said aloud. “It’s okay. You got this.”

Ha. I had nothing. It was only an hour at work, but the same overwhelming panic, not to mention the constant berating myself for having no idea what was happening in the world around me, had made me lose every bit of assuredness I’d built up when faced with the place I always wanted to run from.

You were kidding yourself. You can’t do this. You’re not ready. You’re still not ready.

I wished I knew where to find the mute button for my inner demon. He was loud; the cause of my palpitations and the reason my feet wouldn’t take the steps into the training ground. This time I didn’t have Bryce beside me to hold me up. I didn’t have Miguel to steady me, or Leah to wrap her arms around me and tell me it would be okay. I didn’t because I thought I could make it on my own. How pathetic would it be to call Richard and ask him to meet me in the parking lot just so I could actually get inside and try to beat this thing?

My body shook. The familiar sounds and smells sent my head reeling, and like always, I wanted Will. I needed his strength, his no-nonsense attitude to kick my ass through the doors. Closing my eyes I breathed deeply and conjured up a picture of him in my mind. Heard his voice. Felt his hand, feather-light on my shoulder, guiding me forward.

I wasn’t crazy. I knew it wasn’t real. It was trickery, but I took it because it was all I had. And I had to get inside. To start the next part of the healing process and get back to work.

My steps were shaky but I took them without stopping. Every fibre in me wanted to bolt back to the car and drive home but I pushed on. One. Step. At. A. Time.

Made it.

Training had already begun, and in some ways that helped. Nobody noticed me as I snuck in and sat down on a bench at the edge of the field. Out of habit, my eyes scanned for Will before I stopped myself, and the reminder of his absence set my heart thudding and my palms sweating again.

My eyes drifted across the field again, slower this time. Nothing sank in, just faceless people doing un-named activities.

Sombre faces. Mourners. Crying. That smell.

I gripped the edge of the bench, forcing those visions away, and even though I managed to bring my focus back to what was real, reality sucked just as hard as the awful memories. The all too familiar ache that lived inside me pressed harder against my chest, reacquainting me with its presence.

“Hey.” I raised my head at the sound of Richard’s voice and he smiled down at me. “How are you doing today?”

“Three minutes. Is that enough for today?”

His smile turned sympathetic, his hand finding my shoulder. “Think you can make it to five?”

I pressed my fingers into my palms, rubbing at the moisture there. “I think I can. I’d like to make it an hour at least. Maybe more. Maybe I can even go out on the field for a while.”