Chapter 2
Teddy
“You want me to what?”
It came out louder than I meant it to. Not that I was known for subtlety, but still. I was mid-adrenaline rush, fresh off drills, and Coach Emery had just dropped a bomb so casually you’d think she was asking me to pick up milk on the way home.
Coach blinked at me like she was waiting for my chest to stop heaving.
It didn’t. I’m not sure it ever would when his name was mentioned.
“You want us to share this place with the Knights?” I clarified, slower this time, in case I’d hallucinated. “Our brand-new facility. With them.”
She raised a hand in that diplomatic, let’s-be-reasonable way she does. “Now Teddy, you and I both know a great captain would recognize when someone else needs support—”
“Yeah, usually someone on my team.”
“Still, there’s an element for sportsmanship here, don’t you agree?”
Fuck, I hated it when she played the moral high ground card.
Mostly because she was right. Sportsmanship.
Like when you get elbowed in the ribs, but you were supposed to shake hands after.
Or in this case, when a bunch of testosterone-fueled chaos gremlins are about to take over your house and you’re expected to smile through it.
“This feels like sabotage,” I said, because I couldn’t say bullshit and not get a one hundred pushup penalty from her.
Coach didn’t flinch. “You’ve seen the footage. You know the quake hit their pitch hard. Their whole setup is out of commission.”
I had seen it. Half the city had. Sinkholes and snapped goalposts and weight racks sunk into puddles like shipwreck debris. Still, I wasn’t ready to hand over my hard-earned space to the Knight boys and their collection of shirtless Instagram selfies.
“But why us?”
She leaned back against the desk, her signature power move. “Because we have the space. Because we got lucky. And because you know damn well if the roles were reversed, you’d be hoping someone would make room for you.”
Damn it. There it was. The guilt grenade.
Of course I’d hope for grace if the Valkyries were in their shoes.
And of course she knew I couldn’t say no without looking like the villain in a feel-good sports doco.
I knew we were lucky for the quake not to damage our facility as much; we weren’t near the fault line like they were.
Downtown got it way worse. My heart punched in my chest every time I saw the footage of the ruined houses.
Coach crossed her arms as her eyes searched my face, calm as ever. She did this with everyone, but I was fully prepared on pretending I was immune to it.
“Look, you don’t have to like it, but we’ve been asked to collaborate, and I agreed, as long as we talked first. Management is already on board. They’ve emailed me a tentative plan they want you to go over together.”
“Oh good,” I said, tone flat. “So I get to choose the method of our slow and painful death.”
She pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh. “You’ll have full oversight. Separate training times, shared use only when necessary. But you will need to meet with Connor and sort out a plan.”
The realization hitting me, I stopped pacing. “You want me in a room. Alone. With Connor O’Riley.”
“He’s the captain,” she said simply.
“He’s a menace.”
“He’s a captain,” she repeated. I wasn’t hard of hearing; I just didn’t want to do it. “Same as you. Show him how it’s done.”
I stared at her, jaw locked, already imagining the smug look on his face, and the pity I’d felt for his team suddenly disappeared.
That stupid half-smile and those fake polite manners he pulled out when he wanted to seem reasonable but really, he was just laying verbal landmines.
I knew his type—I knew him. It was all just bravado.
Bravado that I didn’t have time to entertain as a professional at the start of something big.
Coach softened. “This doesn’t have to be a rivalry thing, Teddy. It can be a leadership moment.”
I snorted. I really had chosen violence today.
“That’s cute. You think he’s capable of putting his ego aside.
” Everything was always a rivalry thing with Connor, ever since freshman year in college, where he and I shared classrooms for four years.
I didn’t need reassurance because I knew he couldn’t resist pissing me off.
Her expression shifted now—just enough to show I wasn’t entirely wrong. But still, she knew how to play me… “That’s why I trust you to lead this conversation. Be the leader I know you are. Put your ego aside. You’re better than this.”
There it was. The winning line that she was fully aware would get my competitive head in the game. She trusted me; my Coach has always trusted me.
“And you know the cost of this place better than anyone.” She continued. “We’re a new franchise. We’ve got overheads and a shot at making a real profit this season if we split the load. The media will love it. Two teams, one facility. The kind of campaign they eat for breakfast.”
This wasn’t about viral hashtags or camera angles or becoming someone’s feel-good headline, and I wasn’t chasing fame—I was trying to build something that lasted. Something my team could be proud of. Something we could pass on to generations of women. Something that meant change was coming.
It wasn’t easy being a woman in a sport that’s spent decades pretending you don’t exist. Unfortunately, I’m learning fast that sometimes fame is survival.
Exposure is leverage. And shared space with a team that already has fans, already has money behind them…
yeah… I saw the logic. I just didn’t like it.
Coach must’ve seen the wheels turning, because she leaned in and landed the final blow.
“We’ve got waves to make, Teddy. Let’s use them. Show them what women’s sport looks like when it leads.”
I swallowed hard.
Because I wanted that. Not the spotlight, not the headlines—but the shift. The proof. The day girls walked into a stadium and didn’t wonder if they were out of place. The day we didn’t have to be twice as good just to be taken half as seriously.
That mattered.
It mattered enough to set my jaw, nod once, and accept what came next.
Even if it meant dealing with Connor O’Riley again.
“Fine. But if he starts monologuing about his Irish rugby heritage, I’m calling you in for backup.”
She chuckled. “I can’t make any promises as to what he’ll say. You just need to get this sorted and take your team to the first championship.”
The pride in her voice hit something deep in my chest. It was my first year, our first year, out of pay-to-play in the premier league, my first season wearing that ‘C’ too, but this had been years in the making.
I’d captained my college team to championship, played U23s for the USA as well as premier league, and kept my head down while I earned every inch of space I could take up.
Coach had seen it before anyone else—she scouted me back then, and we moved into premier together, then mapped out my future here once Women’s Pro Rugby Division had been confirmed last year.
Much to my father’s dismay, all my hard work had paid off.
Rugby might have been a team sport, but it helped to have someone at the helm who was always hungry for the win. I wasn’t my teammates’ favorite person every day, but I sure as hell delivered the results we deserved—and we did deserve them.
And that was what mattered, wasn’t it? Not whether they liked me or invited me out after practice. As long as I was good enough to win, if I kept earning my place here, then I’d earned something.
Which was why I conceded.
“When do I have to meet him?”
“In thirty minutes,” she said. “Media room. I’ll be across the hall with their coach.”
***
Longest thirty minutes of my life. Cardio training wrapped up by the time I’d left coach’s office, and I wasn’t in the mood for weight training.
So I came straight to the media room. Micah was here already, legs up on a chair, tapping something into her phone when I walked in.
“You hiding or sulking?” she asked without looking up.
“Both,” I muttered, dropping my kit bag against the wall. “Heavy on the strategic avoidance of all human interaction.”
“Perfect. You’ll love what’s coming.”
I gave her a look.
She smirked, sitting upright. “Captain Charming should be here any minute.”
I groaned and began pacing the edge of the room instead of sitting. My muscles were too wired.
I really was grateful the earthquake had missed us. Our stadium was intact, gym untouched. Lucky. But I didn’t feel lucky. I felt cornered.
Deciding to sit, I plucked my phone from my pocket and scrolled through rugby division updates, caught a few highlight clips for the upcoming debut season, then clicked into a video breaking down the New York Ravens’ new high-intensity pre-season block.
Just as their captain started explaining tempo shifts, the door swung open…
and in walked the one person who could ruin my afternoon just by breathing in my direction.
Connor O’Riley, golden boy of the Knights, captain of the boys’ club, and current thorn in my side.
I hadn’t seen him in over a year—not properly.
Just the odd glimpse at press events or award nights.
And that was deliberate. I didn’t need the distraction anyway.
Or the history of our rivalry to be dragged up, but here we were.