Page 104 of Try Line Hearts
Byrne closed his eyes for half a second. The ice was background now. The real pressure lived under his sternum, a relentless compression—World Cup timelines, sponsors circling, Dublin home soil, the unspoken understanding that he was no longer just a captain but a symbol.
“You watched the interview,” Byrne said.
“Bits,” Kaine replied.
“I said what they wanted.”
Kaine nodded once. “You always do.”
Not sharp. Worse. A fact.
Byrne’s hands curled on the rim. “You think I like this?”
Kaine finally looked at him.
Not accusation. Not fury. Just quiet, learned restraint—the look of someone who had spent weeks convincing himself that love meant shrinking.
“I think you’re very good at surviving systems,” Kaine said.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is,” Kaine replied. “Just not the one you want.”
Byrne leaned forward, elbows on his knees, water lapping at his ribs. “I’m trying to keep us safe.”
Kaine didn’t blink. “You’re trying to keep yourself safe.”
The truth sat between them—cold, immovable.
“What do you want me to do?” Byrne asked softly. “Tell me.”
Kaine’s expression flickered—pain, almost amusement, then exhaustion. “You keep asking for instructions like this is a drill. Like if I give you steps, you’ll execute them and we’ll call it solved.”
Byrne flinched.
“I don’t need you to come out,” Kaine went on. “I don’t need a press conference or a flag. I’m not asking you to blow up your life so I can feel brave by association.”
Byrne’s jaw clenched. “I wouldn’t—”
“Listen,” Kaine cut in, not harsh. “I need to stop feeling like I disappear the second someone important walks into the room.”
“You don’t disappear.”
Kaine smiled faintly. “I do. You just don’t notice because you’re busy being perfect.”
The timer chimed softly.
Kaine stayed still a moment longer, then turned fully toward Byrne.
“Do you intend to keep me a dirty little secret forever?”
The question dropped like a stone.
Byrne froze.
Forever.
He reached instinctively for timelines—after the qualifiers, after the Cup, after the Aviva spotlight dimmed—but heard how hollow they sounded before they formed.
