Illicit Affairs

04

Josh's POV

I'd stopped counting the sleepless nights. The ceiling fan spun like it had answers, but all it offered was silence. I hoped for just a shred of good news.

This wasn't just a meeting. It was the meeting. The one that would decide whether everything I had worked for – and everything I had sacrificed – had mattered. My agent didn't need to say it. This so-called emergency meeting told me everything I needed to know.

Seated, I gripped the armrest, tension crawling up my spine like the mistakes of my past. It's more intense than anything I'd felt in my life. The waiting was unbearable.

The door creaked open, and my gut tightened. Simon Cliffton walked in, dressed in his usual overpriced Armani suit, looking like he had all the time in the world. He moved with the same casual arrogance that always irked me.

I just knew the decision was made for me – my career was over.

"Tell me, Simon." I say, my voice strained. "Collingwood are delisting me, aren't they? I'll be packing my things –"

"Sit down. You wouldn't get very far anyway," Simon snapped, flipping through a file.

His arrogant reminder wasn't needed. The crutches leaned against my chair was enough of a reminder about everything I had lost in life – Scarlett, Cassius, and now, my career it seemed. I wasn't the same man she fell for, maybe that's why Scarlett left all that time ago.

"Please, Simon," I mutter, tugging at my hair. "Just tell me I'm delisted. I can't take this anymore."

"You're not delisted, Josh," Simon flatly said, tossing the file in front of him.

I let out a breath, leaning forward and feeling the tight knot in my chest loosen. For the first time in a while, something had gone right. "Oh, thank God!"

But Simon wasn't looking me in the eye. That knot had tightened again. He leaned back, taking a sip of whiskey. I could tell something was off.

"But," Simon continued, putting down the glass. "There's more to it."

Simon leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the desk. He then sighed. "You'll be playing in the reserves."

"What?" I blinked.

The reserves? That was where careers went to die, where washed-up players and rookies strayed, hoping for a chance they knew deep down wouldn't come. My stomach sunk, I wasn't like them, was I? After all I've done for this team, it's come down to this.

I leaned back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Simon's obnoxious tapping on the desk saw my mind wander to a different time – one where I was riding on a high of a training session.

"Reserves? They're just the benchwarmers. They're nobodies," I scoffed to a teammate, closely watching a veteran player begging for one more shot in the AFL side that afternoon. The irony wasn't lost on me. I was now suffering the same fate as that veteran player I mocked.

At the clink of glass, the veteran's pleads to the coach faded, cut off by Simon's harsh tone. I blinked, pushing the memory aside.

"Collingwood want you, but only in the reserves. You won't be on the senior list for a while."

"That's bullshit," I muttered, shaking my head. "I've been out because of the injury. I just – I need time to recover and get back in form. This – this is temporary, right?"

"Temporary?" Simon gave a small chuckle, looking at me. "Hey buddy, no one wants you right now."

"What the hell are you on about? You can't be serious?" I demand, clenching my jaw. The agent leaned forward, his hands resting under his chin.