Chapter 68 #2
“That’s a complicated question.” My lips twist as I let my focus drift to the bodies colliding in tackle after tackle on the pitch below us.
“On one hand, I’m watching every game while living and breathing every tackle and backline move.
It feels like the clock has wound back ten years.
My boots are in the locker room, just in case I’m about to be called up as injury cover.
I’m sitting here thinking about game management, and player welfare.
Ace is back after being sidelined, but he’s not playing in the starting lineup since Charlie had no option but to name him as a reserve, so he’s on the bench instead.
That activates the captain’s instinct in me, the memories of being in that same spot where he’s fighting for his jersey.
I’m pretty much feeling everything he’ll be feeling, like I want to race out there and put my body on the line for the team. ”
I scratch at my jaw, brows pulling together just a little as I watch the referee call a penalty against us for offside. Damn. That was a call that could have gone either way.
“But on the other hand….” Wren taps her fingers against my chest, pulling my attention back to her.
I catch her fingers in mine and hold them against my chest. “Well, you see, then there’s also the part of me who knows that I can step back and do more for this team than I ever could as an individual player.
I know that I’ve been able to employ the best PTs and trainers and coaching team to look after the likes of Ace when he’s not playing.
So, on a night like tonight, I sit here comfortable in the knowledge that as soon as he hits the field just after halftime, the combination he has with Finch will be undeniable.
Those two click like nothing I’ve ever seen before. ”
We watch as he does just that, their center pairing firing perfectly putting up a watertight wall of defense in the face of the ball spinning wide from the ensuing lineout off the back of that penalty from a moment ago.
As an owner, I know that I’ve invested in players who contribute to a bigger ecosystem than just individual talent.
It’s obvious to anyone and everyone that someone like Ace is a marquee player, a pure talent with all that quiet determination adding to his reputation.
Nothing but raw power and grit. He’s 100 percent in everything he throws himself into out there on the pitch.
“See… that right there, sweetheart? You know just as well as I do that you can’t coach that, and you certainly cannot buy it. Those are qualities that have to be nurtured through more than just signing a flashy contract and paying big bucks. That’s what I hope I’m able to do for this team.”
Wren is quiet for a moment, and we both watch the Wolves fight to regain possession.
Connor runs hard, carrying out a textbook chop tackle on the opposition.
I feel her tense when his body collides brutally hard with one of their forwards.
Play continues, and he doesn’t hesitate.
The guy bounces back to his feet, takes one look at Philadelphia being on attack, threatening the defensive line, and easily uses his rugby IQ to detect where they’re going to swing the ball to next.
Through the glass, the vibration of the crowd roars their approval at his impeccable decision-making, even when under pressure. Renfro stays in the fight, with each successive tackle made by the Wolves, until he has the opportunity to pull off a one-on-one strip of the ball.
It’s an arm wrestle between him and one of the opposing wingers, but Connor comes out on top.
The ball pops loose, and the referee blows his whistle.
While the opposing captain is busy protesting the call with outstretched hands and body language that clearly says what the fuck was that for?
the Wolves have set themselves to kick the ball down the field to gain positional advantage.
We both exhale with relief at the sight of the team marching up the field to form a lineout in the other half of the field. It puts them so much closer to the try line, no longer needing to run it one-hundred yards in order to score.
“I like hearing you talk about the game,” my girl hums. “You sound much more calm than I feel whenever I watch them play.”
Do I? Because I sure as shit feel like I’m going out of my mind.
It’s a miracle Wren can’t sense the simmering ball of turmoil lying just beneath the surface.
“You worry about them?” I ask, voice a little hoarse.
“Always,” she breathes while slowly rubbing the fabric of my shirt beneath her thumb and forefinger.
God, I hate that. I want to ease her concern and carry it for her. “Wren—”
“It’s fine.” Her words come out quickly, cutting me off as she moves to reassure me.
“I’m fine right now… but I have to be honest with you that I don’t know how I would handle seeing either Connor or Ace get hurt during a game…
especially after forming a pack. Now that I know they’re my scent matches, I feel like I’d be likely to flip out and quite probably be unable to control how I reacted. ”
She’s putting words to exactly the way I feel all the time about her.
It doesn’t matter that Wren isn’t the one wearing a mouthguard and willingly putting her body in harm’s way in the midst of a rugby match.
No, I still have that same urgent tremor constantly sitting in my throat.
The thousand different what-ifs that play through my mind on a loop.
“Please don’t freak out. I promise not to do anything stupid. I’ve got it under control.” The tone in her voice is clear: she thinks my silence and tension are because of something she said.
“It’s not you, baby.” My throat works. “Never you.”
“What then?” she whispers.
My eyes search hers. How do I put this into words? It’s too big. Too much. Far too soon, and far too overwhelming. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’d be the world’s biggest asshole for dumping this on her right here in the middle of a rugby stadium.
All I can do is continue to run my palms over her, to keep touching my girl, because that feels like the only thing grounding me at this moment.
Wren slides her fingers up to lightly touch the patch of skin where my shirt is unbuttoned at my throat. “You’re stressed. I hate that… what will make this better for you?”
Heat fills my gaze, I know it does. The look I give her lingers for a selfish, indulgent moment before I shake it away.
“Talk to me, Theo.” She strokes my stubble.
I feel her warmth seep into my bones and draw a long inhale of her sweet scent to expand my lungs.
Blowing out a breath, it takes everything in me to force the words out, but I can’t fight this anymore.
“Wren, I take one look at you, and I’m totally lost.” My throat thickens with pent-up emotion.
“I can hardly breathe when you’re not within arm’s reach, and it’s only getting worse. ”
Her blue eyes are right there, holding me steady, even though it’s surely supposed to be the other way around.
“I’m constantly feeling like I’ve messed things up somehow, or some way, and yet in the same breath I’m selfishly expecting you to be in it as deeply as I am… I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever to find you.”
She cups my jaw. “Bond me.”
I jerk back. “What?”
Wren climbs into a new position, so that she’s now straddling my lap.
Her delicate fingers hold my face, just like she holds my heart in her hands.
“Mark me. Bond with me. I’m all in, and this is how it was meant to be for us…
we’re scent-matched and nothing is going to change that.
At least this way, you’ll feel me down the bond.
You’ll be able to relax knowing that you can sense me even when I’m not right by your side. ”
All I can do is squeeze her tight; words refuse to form.
“Surely that will help, won’t it?” She gifts me a soft smile.
I stare. I stare at her, unblinking, taking in every detail of her flawless beauty while my chest heaves and heart races. “Don’t toy with me, Wren Murphy. My old man heart won’t be able to take it,” I rasp.
The miracle she is in my life, my girl simply guides my hand to slide up the slope of her throat. “No tricks. No plays. Just you and me and a bond that we probably should have talked about you giving to me way back before my first heat took us by surprise.”
I digest what she’s saying but still can’t believe it all the same.
“But we’re in the middle of a stadium… this isn’t somewhere special, it’s practically a goddamn locker room…
” As much as I’m trying to think of reasons why Wren deserves something so momentous as bonding to happen somewhere—anywhere—else, my teeth ache.
“This isn’t some place special?” My girl tilts her head, arching her neck for me.
“I can’t think of anywhere more special for you.
This is your heart, right here. This is you, Theo Brennan.
What better place would there be?” She emphasizes her soft words with both palms placed flat against my chest, covering my heart and holding me enthralled in her baby blues.
With a heavy swallow, I lick my lips. This is too unexpected, too generous of her, and I can’t believe that she’s offering such a gift.
Does she have any idea what she’s giving me?
Whenever I allowed myself to picture bonding with Wren, I imagined a date by candlelight, followed by a stroll beside the lake soaking in a balmy summer’s evening breeze.
I’d imagined spoiling my girl with flower petals and champagne.
But then I look at Wren, with those giant blue eyes that I’ll forever find myself willing to drown in, and I realize with a jolt to my goddamn core, that picture I’ve been clinging onto isn’t her.
That isn’t my girl. That’s some fool’s notion of romance and cliched wooing of a woman.