Page 7 of Quick Tap
CHAPTER 4
KAI
The message comes in just after midnight.
Mum’s appointment went okay. Docs say we wait and see.
I stare at the words, rereading them as if they’ll change. As if they’ll suddenly mean something better.Wait and see.What the hell does that even mean?
My jaw tightens, thumb hovering over the keyboard. I should say something. Ask for details. Call my brother and actually hear his voice instead of just reading cold, blue text on a screen.
Instead, I just sit there, phone burning in my hand, because I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to say.
Sorry I’m not there? Sorry I’m selfish? Sorry I left you all to deal with this while I chase a dream that was never meant for me?
I drag a hand down my face and exhale hard, staring at the ceiling. I should be home.I should be there.Instead, I’m in a high-rise apartment on the other side of the world, my body still aching from today’s match, my fridge full of food I barelytouch, my career looking better than ever while my family holds it together without me.
I type out a response.
Sweet as. Let me know if she needs anything.
I delete it.
I try again.
How’s she really doing?
Delete.
I settle on a thumbs-up emoji and send it before I can think too hard. A coward’s response.
My phone screen dims, the message thread still open. I should follow up. Call Mum. Let her hear my voice, let her know I still give a shit.
Instead, I set the phone down, press my fingers to my temples, and breathe through the guilt clawing up my throat.
New Zealand. The academy.
I can still smell the damp grass, the sweat, the adrenaline. The way the floodlights turned the field into a spotlight at night, the whole world narrowing to just this game, just this chance.
Make the play. Get noticed. Prove you belong here.
Every practice, I went harder. Stayed longer. Studied tape until I could see it playing behind my eyelids when I tried to sleep. I chased every edge I could get.
And for a while, it felt like enough.
Until it wasn’t.
The All Blacks never called.
I waited. Told myselfnextselection cycle,nexttournament,nextseason. But deep down, I already knew.
I wasn’t exceptional.
I was a great player, sure. Good enough to start. Good enough to dominate in club rugby. But that’s all I’d ever be—good enough.
Notthe best.
Notthe kind of player they build teams around.
