Nick chuckles. “No, I didn’t think you’d want me to. One bloke did say it waspalatial, though, so I’m taking that as a good sign.”
“Hmm.” I turn back to him. “And they’ve all signed their contracts?”
“Yeah,” Nick says. “We get a cut from any deals conducted during the camp. They’re happy to do it, boss. It’s good business all around. Plus we’ve made some good cash with the paid guests, the wealthier ones. You’re still a celebrity, Harry. An injury can’t take that away from you.”
“A minor celebrity,” I correct. “And I never wanted even that. It was always about the sport.”
He shrugs. “Well, it’s helping with revenue. You ask me, we should’ve askedallthe guests to pay …”
“I know,” I snap. “But I’m not gonna charge poor bloggers to come here, mate. No damn way.”
Nick sits back, letting his dark brown eyes do all the talking. We’ve known each other since we were kids, back when he opted for the scrum cap instead of football boots. Despite our differences in sport, Nick’s the one bastard who seems able to read me.
I ignore his look, knowing he’s thinking about Grace, who he callsthe girl.
All goddamn week, I’ve had to hear aboutthe girl.
I walk over to the desk and pick up my tennis ball, launching it under-arm at the wall and catching it in my other hand. The thump-thump-thump noise it makes is distracting. It helps me to drown out the sound of my own too-fast heartbeat.
“You know what I’m gonna say,” Nick mutters.
I slam the tennis ball, watching as it makes a curving arc back to me. “Do I?” I grunt, throwing it again.
“You made it free for bloggers so the girl wouldn’t have to pay.”
I catch the ball, almost crushing it in my vise-like grip. I’m wearing a baggy T-shirt and my bare forearm tenses, veins standing up. With an effort, I release it and let it roll across the desk. Nick snatches it and tosses it from hand to hand.
“You still haven’t told me what happened with her.”
“Maybe you ask too many fucking questions,” I say, pacing for the door.
I push out into the reception area.
Adam sits at the desk, a fresh-faced man with a shock of red hair. He’s a Welshman with so many freckles his skin is solid red in places. The New York summer sun hasn’t been kind to him, making his neck a vivid crimson.
He smiles over, showing the slight gap in his front teeth. “Uh, hi, boss. I mean, sir. I mean … No calls, not yet. Would you like another coffee?”
“Relax,” Nick laughs. “We’re just gonna say hello to the guests.”
“Um, okay.”
“Why’s he so nervous?” I ask as we push open the door and walk down fake grass of the fields, some guests already moving toward the dormitory buildings.
One lady I can just about see under her four suitcases is panting loudly as she struggles to drag them all toward the entrance. I grind my front two teeth into my lower ones, back and forth, hearing the enamel scraping in my mouth.
“Somebody should be helping her,” I say. “She could break an arm doing that. Just what we need, eh? A lawsuit on our hands.”
I’m about to go over when I spot one of my staff members, dressed prim and proper in the field-green Harry Hadley shorts and T-shirt, jogging over. He gives me a shrug of apology and then takes the lady’s bags.
I nod, moving on, glad that one of my guests isn’t risking injury. But at the same time, this camp is only two damn weeks long. She’s packed for the moon.
Nick and I walk to the edge of the parking lot, Nick sitting down on the wooden bench and resting his hand over the back. I pace back and forth, nerves writhing around my body like annoying-as-fuck eels.
“You wanna know about Grace Nelson, Nick?” I growl, wincing as my hip twinges a little. It never hurts much these days, but every now and then a pulse will move through it, reminding me of what was taken. “You remember that weird exchange program my college did?”
“Oh, yeah,” Nick says, nodding. “Mate, thatwasodd. Bringing a bunch of teams over from America to play a round robin.”
“Some genius got a grant from the government.” I shrug, kicking the dirt and sending a stone across the lot, gray dust rising. “Anyway, she was there. We had a thing. I don’t know what you’d call it.”Love. That’s what you call it. I was imagining our future together, planning how to make it work when we came from different continents. I’d never felt anything like it before, and I sure as shit have never felt anything like it since. But I’m not going to say that to Nick. “I guess I had feelings for her.”
