The Fly-Half (Lincoln Knights #2)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Devon

“All right,” Matty said as we stood in a circle in the changing room, our arms around each others’ shoulders. “These French bastards aren’t going to go easy on us, but they don’t want it as much as us. We’re better than they are, we’re hungrier, and we fucking want this! This is our first European competition in five fucking years and we’re going to go out there and prove we belong here.”

There were a few nods, vicious, hungry smiles lighting up the faces of my teammates around me.

“They think we’ll be a pushover,” I said. “I’ve played Angers before and they’re arrogant. They’re used to winning. They’ll be expecting to walk all over us, but we’re not going to let them! Fuck them all.”

“Fuck them all!” The cry echoed around the room with a burst of laughter as we slapped each other on the shoulder and broke apart, ready for war.

It was our first match of the European Rugby Champions Cup and we were playing Angers at home. I was glad we had the home field advantage because Angers were notoriously tough to beat, and we needed every single bit of leverage we could scrape up. The nerves in the dressing room were high, and I could practically taste the unsettled feeling in the air.

But we could do this.

The Knights had earned their position in this competition and we were going to prove to Europe that we deserved to be here through blood, sweat, and tears.

“Are you ready?” I asked Jonny as we walked out of the changing room and into the tunnel.

“I think so,” he said with a set expression, fingers adjusting the side of his scrum cap. “Just need to treat it like any other match. I can’t let it get into my head.”

“We can do it.” I brushed my fingers across his, a simple touch to let him know I was there. My own nerves were sitting on my chest, not heavy or intrusive but more of a reminder of what was at stake. Losing one match wouldn’t totally remove us from the competition, but it would be a setback.

I’d played in European competitions regularly with Marseille, but this time it felt different. Everyone here had worked their arse off for this opportunity, and we had something to prove. It wasn’t a given that we’d succeed, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t. We might have to push harder, think smarter, and give more than we ever had, but this team could do it.

The home crowd roared as we jogged out onto the pitch, the bright December sunshine glaring down on us. The turf felt good beneath my feet and there was barely any wind, which meant it’d be good kicking conditions as long as I didn’t have to kick into the sun.

My eyes ran over the players lining up against us. There were a few familiar faces amongst them, people I’d played against before and even one guy who’d been at Marseille with me for a couple of seasons before he’d moved. We’d exchange hugs and pleasantries later when he wasn’t preparing to slam me into the floor. I knew I was going to hit the deck today, but my only hope was that Jonny would be able to control himself.

We couldn’t afford to be a man down at any point, so we all needed to toe the line.

The whistle blew and the match began, and within five minutes it had already become really fucking clear it was going to be a slog. Angers had gone straight through the middle of our defences in two minutes flat to score a try while we all stood there stunned. None of us had expected them to catch us off guard so quickly, and now we were already on the back foot.

“Pass it, pass it,” Matty yelled as we tried to push forward, the ground practically shaking as players collided. Mason, Jaden, and West were a wall of muscle, and the hours of fitness training were starting to pay off as Charlie and Danny wove around the chaos. The ball came towards me and I caught it midstride, looking for an impossible gap. I threw the ball to my left, straight into the arms of Kegan, who hit the pitch with it clutched in his arms.

Every inch we pushed forward felt hard won and even when Ollie somehow burst through the line, he didn’t get far before the Angers fullback clattered into him.

It took everything we had to get anywhere near the goal line and when the referee called for a scrum five meters from the line, we all knew we had to make the most of the opportunity. We were all panting and sore, but none of that mattered.

My eyes were fixed on Jonny at the back of the scrum as he engaged, thick thighs straining as he hauled Hunter and Gabriel into line. Grunts and yells filled the air as the front rows of the scrum pushed against each other, each trying to force the opposite side to give. Matty put the ball in and I watched, waiting to see if it would come to me.

The ball was between Jonny’s feet and in a flash he disengaged, scooping it up as everyone closed in around him. Sometimes, the only way to get the ball across the line was by sheer bloody force and brute strength. The scrum was on its feet as the rest of us inched closer, a mass of bodies around Jonny as they sheltered him and dragged him towards the line.

“Heave!” West shouted as they inched forward, determination driving them on. They were so close now, but Angers weren’t giving up without a fight, hands grabbing at shirts as they tried to bring players down and force the group apart.

“Heads up,” Jonny yelled as he threw the ball, trying to get it away from the defenders. I could see it coming towards me, and for a spilt second it was the entirety of my focus.

Which was why I didn’t see the Angers player until it was too late…

“Dev? Dev, can you hear me?”

“Give us some space, please.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Jonny, give them some space. It’s okay. They know what they’re doing.”

I knew who was speaking but their voices sounded slightly funny, like they were standing in a tunnel. I tried to blink and pain radiated through one side of my face as I did.

Fuck.

“Devon, can you hear me?” It was one of the doctors. Natalie? No, not Natalie. Meredith maybe? It was hard to remember when my entire brain was focused on the screaming pain in my right eye.

“Yeah,” I said, carefully opening my left eye and realising I was lying flat on the pitch surrounded by players and staff. “I can hear you.” It felt a little like I’d been steamrollered, and while I’d been on the receiving end of hard tackles before, that one was going straight into the top five. “I can’t open my right eye.”

I looked at the doctor—it was definitely Meredith this time—and slowly tried to sit up, my fingers reaching for my face.

“Let’s not do that,” Meredith said with a gentle smile, her gloved fingers gently grasping my jaw. “Hell of a knock you took there.”

I huffed out a laugh as I tried to look over her shoulder. “Yeah, you’re telling me. Fucking Christ.”

“Sense of humour is still intact. That’s good. But—” I hissed as she carefully touched the skin to the side of my nose, just under my eye. Which I was starting to realise was swollen shut. “I think you might have an orbital fracture.”

“Lucky me,” I said sourly. “Just what I wanted for Christmas.”

Scowling was painful, so I settled for trying to look at the rest of the team. Quite a few of them were still huddled around us, and their expressions ranged from relief, to anger, to annoyance. I was going to assume they weren’t angry at me.

If they were, I’d kick their asses.

As soon as I didn’t have a fucking broken eye socket to deal with.

“Jonny?” I said his name aloud without really thinking as I searched for him in the crowd. I’d heard his voice. I knew he was here…

“I’m here,” he said, appearing from behind Mason with a gentle smile and fire burning in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Been better. Definitely looked better.”

He chuckled as he knelt down beside me, out of Meredith’s way but close enough that he could put his hand out and rest it on top of mine. His fingers were warm, sending a wave of comfort washing over me, like I’d been wrapped in a blanket. “Still look beautiful to me, angel.”

“Even with a black eye?”

“Even with a black eye.” He glanced over at Meredith, who was talking to another member of the medical team, and frowned. “What happens now? Does he need to go to hospital?”

“Yes, it would be good to get some X-rays done just to see what we’re dealing with. It could just be a lot of bruising but I think it’s unlikely.”

“Fuck. Are you going now?” Jonny asked as he looked between us.

“I’ll be okay,” I said, wrapping my fingers around his and squeezing. “You can come find me afterwards.”

“You can’t go by yourself.”

“I won’t. Meredith will be with me. Or Tommy.” I tried to smile, then stopped because it hurt. “I’ll be fine, seriously.”

Jonny huffed. “Fine. I don’t like it, though.”

“I don’t give a shit. You’re not the one with a black eye and fucking orbital fracture.” I squeezed his hand again. “And don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. I don’t want to get a text from Mason to hear you’ve been binned, sent off, started a fight, or any of that shit. Behave yourself.”

He smiled wryly. “Got it. Control my temper.”

“Yeah, or I’ll tell Ryan you’re volunteering to do solo karaoke at The Court.” It was the only threat I could think of that I could say publicly, but hopefully Jonny would get the underlying message of “start shit and I will not let you touch my butt.” Although, given the state of my face, I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to do anything fun for weeks.

Would an orbital fracture stop me from getting my dick sucked? It wasn’t like there would be anything near my face.

“Okay, let’s get you up,” Meredith said as she held out a bright blue medical ice pack wrapped in a dark cloth. “And this is to help with the swelling.”

“Merde. This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” I asked as Jonny carefully helped me climb to my feet, treating me like I was made of glass. He still looked worried, but I could also see the simmering anger behind his eyes, like he was two seconds away from losing it and beating the ever-loving shit out of the bastard who’d tackled me.

It was probably why the guy responsible hadn’t come to apologise. I assumed he’d gotten within two feet and been sent packing, either by my boyfriend or by one of our teammates who didn’t want Jonny to start a riot.

“Probably a little bit,” Meredith said sympathetically as I gently laid the ice pack across my face, hissing as the cold stung. It did help, though. “We can look at getting you some painkillers too.”

“Thanks,” I said. The team had begun to disperse and the officials were talking about restarts and substitutions. Jonny was still lingering, though, his emotions warring across his face. I tried to smile as I released his hand, ready to leave the pitch. “Be good.”

“I’ll try,” he said as the medical team began to lead me away. “Love you.”

I turned my head, the corner of my mouth twisting as his words sank in. It was the first time but it felt like the thousandth because Jonny had said it in so many ways before. Just never quite like that. “Love you too.”

Fourteen years and it really was that easy.