Vaughn Royce

The rain had been consistent since two o'clock, which meant the pitch was a mess.

Ribs were fine. The physio had checked.

Changed direction when he saw you at the edge of the stands, walking across the wet grass with the particular lack of hurry of someone who hadn't decided what to say yet.

You came back.

Not an accusation. Looked at you, then away toward the empty pitch, then back.

You didn't have to do that. I'm glad you did. How long have you been standing there?