pinky promise - jamie tartt

‟ FOREVER KIND OF THING „

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Tate wasn't sure if she had ever been as nervous for a match to start as she did while sitting in the press box waiting for Man City to come onto the pitch. 

Because the second Jamie had come out from the visitor's tunnel, he'd gotten booed from the very same crowd that he used to play for. And even though the issues between them had been resolved, for the most part, she knew he was still struggling with the anxiety of knowing his dad was probably in the stands booing the loudest. 

From the moment the match started, Tate was on the edge of her seat, and by the third time Jamie was knocked to the ground by a Man City player that was marking him a little too close, she had tugged her phone from her pocket to send an annoyed text in the group thread with Rebecca and Keeley. 

It was the only thing stopping her from calling out Man City on the team's official Twitter page, if she was being honest. 

But then Colin scored a header, and she cheered what was probably considered too loud for the press box. Ignoring the annoyed looks shot in her direction, Tate's grin was infectious as she updated the score online. 

But her joy didn't last forever, and Jamie was knocked to the ground again, so visibly frustrated with how he was playing that Tate's heart cracked at the sight. Her only consolation was that they were talking again, and she would be able to be there for him after the match when he needed to decompress from what was so clearly a draining match. 

"Oh, fuck!" Tate gasped as she watched a City corner kick nearly make it in the net—only to be stopped by an awkward kick from Jamie that had him landing hard. 

And when Jamie didn't stand up right away, she knew something was wrong. 

Her grip on the edge of the table she sat at was white-knuckled as she studied her Jamie on the pitch, waving Sam's help off and struggling to his feet. She knew she wasn't breathing as Jamie started limping across the pitch towards the bench, only for him to have to stop and go to the ground. As the trainer's raced out to meet him, her bottom lip was caught so tight between her teeth she knew she was probably drawing blood. 

She contemplated texting Roy to get an update on what was going on with Jamie as he was helped off of the pitch, but she knew he wouldn't answer. Instead she had to wait and watch, her brows knitted in confusion as they kept playing with only ten men on the pitch. 

And they kept going, with Zoreaux making incredible saves with the plastic protection mask. 

She was barely watching the team play, her focus instead on Jamie sat on the sideline, and the conversation he was having with Ted. Jamie kept glancing behind him at the stands, but Ted finally got his attention, and Tate could only guess what he was talking about as he finally stood and made his way back out onto the pitch—to a round of boos. 

With a grin and a roll of her eyes, she watch Jamie tap the Richmond logo on his chest and stick his tongue out. 

"Prick," She mumbled, full of love and adoration. His smugness was warranted, she knew, especially as he raced down the pitch instantly and scored—even with his injured ankle. 

Tate was up and out of her seat before she even realized it, jumping and cheering for her Jamie and her boys and a chance at the Premier League Title. And the entire stadium, full of Man City supporters, gave Jamie a standing ovation as he made his exit, something she knew meant the world to him. But despite her excitement, she was glad that Jamie was subbed off so he wouldn't have the chance of getting further injured. 

Once Jamie was off the pitch, Tate sat back in her seat, slipping her phone from her pocket to send Georgie a text.

Because he was her Jamie, too, and they could celebrate together.