Chapter 2 #3
locker room witnessing a coach discipline his athlete.
“You’re going to be banned from playing rugby in Ireland for at least six months, you fucking knobhead! One-month suspension at the very least. This is how you’re ending your career at Trinity. Not to mention this was your last chance. We had the scouts here just for you, for Christ’s sake.”
Wolf continues to stare at his cleats, doing that unbothered, irritating thing he does as he swipes away some sweat from his
brow. I guess I feel better knowing it’s not just me he gives that kind of emotionless reaction to.
“Do you really have nothing to say for yourself?”
“I’m sure if you—” Cliona tries to interject, but the coach turns murderous eyes to her.
“You stay the hell out of it, Reilly!” the coach snarls at Cliona, his tone echoing in the room.
In an instant, Wolf vaults off the table and closes the distance between him and his coach in three thunderous strides. My
breath hitches as the muscles in Wolf’s back coil, his chest heaving as his eyes flash with rage. He looms over the older
man with a lethal kind of calm, like those silent dogs you never expect to bite but then end up ripping a person’s face off.
Is he going to do to his coach what he did to the ref? I wouldn’t put it past him, I guess.
Wolf doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. The look he levels at the aged man is a clear warning that if he ever speaks
to his sister like that again, Wolf will bite back.
And strangely, that primal reaction in him scares and settles me. I like the confident, overprotective power he emits. It
makes my skin heat to watch him defend something so violently, and it’s not even me he’s protecting.
God, what is wrong with me for being turned on at a tense moment like this?
“Go on, then, lad,” the coach croaks, jutting his white, bearded chin upward. “Hit me too. End your career in rugby full stop after I gave you a chance. Then we can be done watching you waste all that God-given potential . . . and breakin’ my damn heart.”
The sweet Irish lilt of the coach’s words causes my eyes to well with tears. I glance over to see Wolf’s brows furrow as the
two men exchange more silent words. It’s clear there’s a relationship here that isn’t just a coach and athlete. This man cares
about Wolf. He cares about his future. And Wolf seems to be fighting to accept that fact.
Cliona’s gentle plea breaks the tension. “Moon, please,” she begs, her voice barely above a whisper.
After a beat, Wolf turns to look at his sister. Only his eyes don’t stay on her. They slide over right to me, clearly just
now realizing that I’m in the room too. And the force behind his harsh gaze sucks the breath clean out of my lungs. A hot
flush crawls up my neck while shame and dread tangle tight in my chest. I wish like hell I had the ability to disappear entirely.
Why can’t I be five feet tall? Just small enough to duck behind this steward and hide from the terrifying storm that is Conri
Wolf Reilly. Because it doesn’t take a genius to fill in the blanks of what he is silently saying to me.
Why the fuck are you here at the worst possible moment in my life?
My eyes are pleading with him while silently replying, I’m sorry. This wasn’t my idea.
The tension breaks when Wolf takes a step back, dropping his head and showing some semblance of remorse.
The coach sighs as he slumps his shoulders. “The worst of it is I still had hope for you after graduation, lad. Leinster was
here, and you had a real shot . . . but now . . . Jaysus. It’ll take a miracle for anyone to want you.”
Without another word, the coach turns to walk away, and the steward follows him out, leaving me, Cliona, and Wolf alone in
the smelly locker room.
After a long, pregnant pause, Wolf’s stony posture buckles as he flings his hand out and sends a stack of medical supplies flying into the wall.
I jump at the noise, but not necessarily the outburst. I’ve seen my uncles lose their shit over far less, so this level of anger doesn’t feel all that shocking to me.
Once the last roll of tape has stopped rolling on the floor, Cliona bravely asks, “Feel better?”
My eyes widen because this does not seem to be a good time to taunt the wolf. Then again, Cliona has never been one to hold
back.
“Get your shite, and let’s get out of here. Mam is driving down to collect you. You better not have fucked this up for me
too, or so help me God, Conri.” She turns on her heel and walks past me without a look back.
I hesitate in the room, tugging on Wolf’s shirt I’m embarrassed to be wearing right in front of him. Jesus, I probably look like one of his stalker groupies.
I should say something, anything to acknowledge the difficult time he’s going through, maybe even apologize for being here
or offer some words of encouragement and hope. Help him see the bigger picture.
Instead, the drivel that comes out of my mouth is something that will haunt me until the end of my days.
“If it’s any consolation, I think half the crowd is pregnant from watching your thighs out there today.”
Wolf’s face is completely unreadable as he stares back at me for an eternity. I offer a wobbly smile before he turns on his
heel and makes his way over to the lockers, dismissing me like I don’t even exist.
So, I do what I should have done before I opened my mouth. I scamper out of there with my tail tucked between my legs, cursing
myself for that stupid, stupid joke.
But at least I didn’t tell him about shitting my pants.