I’m standin’ there like a spare prick at a wake while the nurse crouches in front of her, doin’ her thing all calm and clinical, like this happens every day.

Maybe it does.

Doesn’t mean I’m built for it.

I shift my weight, boots sinking into the turf, hands flexing uselessly at my sides ‘cause I don’t know where to put ‘em. Can’t cross my arms — looks defensive. Can’t shove ‘em in my pockets — looks like I don’t care. So I just… stand there. Watchin’.

She’s folded in on herself. Head down. Shoulders tight. Tryin’ to disappear.

My stomach turns.

I lean into Gibsie’s space without even lookin’ at him. “Lad,” I mutter, voice wrecked, “I just hit a feckin’ girl with a ball.”

He huffs. “Yeah. Not your finest pass, Captain.”

I finally look at him then, jaw tight. “Don’t.”

He sobers quick enough, follows my gaze back to her. Watches the way she nods too fast at the nurse. The way she grips her sleeve like it’s the only solid thing in the world.

“…Ah,” he says.

“Aye,” I breathe. “That.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “She’s not cryin’. That’s what’s gettin’ me.”

“What d’ye mean?”

“I mean,” I say, low, “she’s holdin’ it in. Like she’s afraid if she makes a sound, someone’ll have a go at her.”

Right on cue, one of the lads lets out a stupid laugh behind us — nerves, probably — and her shoulders jump like she’s been shot.

Something hot twists in my chest.

“I didn’t just clip her,” I mutter. “I dragged her into a crowd. All the eyes. All the noise. First day by the look of her an’ all.”

Gibsie winces. “Jesus.”

“I should’ve been watchin’ the pitch,” I go on, already replayin’ it. “Should’ve clocked her crossin’. Should’ve—”

I cut myself off, breath sharp.

“I don’t even know her name, Gibs,” I finish. “And now she’s sittin’ there like she’s expectin’ the world to turn on her.”

He nudges my shoulder, gentler than usual. “So what’re ye gonna do?”

I don’t answer straight away. Just keep my eyes on her. On the way she’s makin’ herself small. Like that’s ever kept anyone safe.

“I’m not leavin’,” I say finally. “Not a chance.”

And I stay put — close enough to step in if anyone gets thick, far enough not to scare her more — heart still thumpin’ like I’ve done somethin’ unforgivable.