Free Redemption by Jessica Ashe Page B

onto the table.  
    “Your turn,” she replied, before turning her head away from me and discretely letting out a silent belch.
    “Maybe we should slow down.”
    “I’m keeping up just fine,” Michelle said.  
    To be fair, she was doing just that. I had drastically underestimated her ability to drink copious amounts of beer. I guess as a bartender she’d squeezed in plenty of practice after hours.
    Michelle had asked me to tell her some drinking games, but to be honest, I didn’t really know many. Rugby teams had a reputation as being hotbeds of laddish drinking, but in reality that culture stopped at about seventeen, or at least when you turned professional. My team would still haze new youth team players with outrageous dares, but once you’d gotten through that there wasn’t much of a drinking culture. There was too much money in the sport now for excess drinking.
    I didn’t want to seem boring, so I made it up as I went along. Michelle’s last drink had been a punishment for not having had sex outside. Now it was my turn to either admit to having had a threesome or drink half a pint.
    “Let’s take a break for a bit,” I said. “You don’t want Maisie to see you drunk later, or worse, hung-over tomorrow morning. She’ll give you no end of crap for it.”
    “I’m not drunk,” she said, and just like that Michelle instantly appeared sober. When I looked closely into her eyes, I could tell she was a little tipsy, but then so was I. She’d likely been exaggerating how drunk she was getting just to seem like she was being more fun. Michelle had real problems loosening up.
    “You spilt beer down your top,” I said, motioning to a beer stain stretching from her left breast down to her belly button. “Why don’t you take that shirt off? You have a top on underneath and you must be roasting in that thing.”
    “No,” she replied instantly, and held onto the shirt as if I were about to take it off her. For someone who had a great body, she sure seemed reluctant to let me see it.  
    Our legs were already touching under the table, but I’d done everything in my power not to put my hand on her thigh or even move my leg in case she might see that as me coming on to her. I didn’t know how she would respond, but given the way she kept looking at me, there was a good chance she wouldn’t turn me down if I made a move. So why didn’t I?
    I couldn’t think of anything or anyone I wanted more in the world right now than her, and yet here I was sat next to her and talking to her as if we were just friends or, heaven forbid, brother and sister.
    “What does it feel like?” she asked.
    “What does what feel like?”
    “Playing in front of all those people. Being cheered on by thousands of fans.”
    “They’re not always cheering me on. You saw evidence of that yourself.”  
    “Those people are idiots. You’ve changed since then. That’s obvious.”
    “Yes,” I agreed. “I’ve changed a lot. Not just on the pitch. Michelle, I’m sorry for the way I treated you back then. I don’t know what came over me.”
    “Don’t apologize. We all make mistakes. I certainly made a huge one and Maisie is still paying the price.”
    “Michelle, you need to stop punishing yourself for what happened.” Punish me. I deserve it . “In case you haven’t noticed, Maisie doesn’t blame you for what happened.”
    “She should. I couldn’t protect her. She’s my little sister and I couldn’t protect her.”  
    I quickly put my arm around her as she leaned into my shoulder and started sobbing. We got a few looks from people around us, but they took the hint and looked away again just as quickly.  
    “It wasn’t your job to protect her that night,” I explained, speaking softly into her ear. “It was mine.” I wanted to tell her the whole story. I wanted to make my confession and to hell with the consequences, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t as brave as Michelle. She would hate me if she knew, and I