Chapter 13
Teddy
Micah had made sure I didn’t bail tonight, and honestly, I was grateful she pushed.
I’d ignored her text telling me to get ready, spent half the afternoon convincing myself I was too tired to sit in a loud bar with everyone, but she appeared at my door, like she always does—arms crossed, eyebrows raised, already knowing every excuse I had lined up.
And now, here with my drink cooling my hand and the comfortable noise of the team weaving around me, I could admit she was right.
It felt good to be here. Normal, even. A small pocket of ease in a busy month that has felt like juggling fire. This was the kind of downtime Natalie was talking about, and she was right, to no surprise. We had a big year ahead of us and we deserved to let go a little.
More of the girls’ team joined us within minutes. Evie, Delany, Lola and her girlfriend, and a few others. All of them smiled and chatted with the Knights team, settling themselves into their giant booth without hesitation. And then there was me, still at the end of the table, like a weirdo.
I should have taken a seat, I knew that.
There was an empty space near Micah, but my body hadn’t quite committed to the motion yet.
Maybe because Connor was there, watching the conversation with that quiet attentiveness, and every time his eyes flicked to me, a live current skittered through me.
That was new, and I had no idea what to do with it. So, for now, I’d stay where I was.
Evie clocked me from across the table and raised her eyebrows. “Teddy. Sweetheart. Are you… loitering?”
Delany tapped the bench beside her, even though there wasn’t really any room there. “Come sit before someone else steals it, and then you get all weirdly territorial about team seating arrangements.”
“I don’t get territorial,” I said automatically.
Three of them answered at the same time.
“Yes, you do.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I do not.”
Evie laughed into her drink. “You once threatened to reorganize the entire locker room because someone sat in your spot.”
“That was one time,” I muttered.
“Hmm,” Lola said, nodding thoughtfully. “And last week.”
“And the week before,” her girlfriend added helpfully.
I blinked at her. “You don’t even go to our practices.”
She sipped her drink, entirely unbothered. “Lola talks.”
Micah leaned over the table, chin propped on her hand, watching me with that knowing expression she pulled out specifically for my nonsense. “Teddy, babe. Sit.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but movement at my side snagged my attention. Connor shifted in his seat, leaning back, half-listening to Bobby, and something hot and inconvenient curled under my skin. I refused to give that feeling any more airtime than I already had tonight.
I opened my mouth to respond, telling them I’m fine as I am, when Micah apparently decided she’d given me long enough. “Nope,” she said, without warning. “She’s two seconds away from overthinking herself into a coma. Emergency intervention.”
Before I processed what that meant, Evie was already sliding out of the booth on the other side.
“Oh yeah,” Evie said, grabbing my hand. “Dance floor. Come on, Captain. You need it.”
“I don’t—Evie, wait—Micah, seriously—”
But they weren’t listening. They never listened when they thought I needed rescuing from myself.
Micah tugged, Evie pushed from behind, Lola cheered, and within moments, I was being herded through the crowd toward the small dance floor in the corner. The lights were low, the music was loud, and the air smelled like sweat and spilled beer, which was somehow comforting in its own chaotic way.
“This is a terrible idea,” I said, even as my body automatically started moving, mirroring theirs.
“Great,” Micah said, raising her arms. “Those are our favorite kind.”
Evie swayed into me, laughing. “You work too hard. You think too hard. You need to shake something loose.”
The girls echoed Natalie’s words to me from our call the other day, and I knew I had to give in.
The beat dropped, and they yelled like it was an anthem.
I just let it happen. The noise, the movement, the warmth of my teammates pressed around me like a shield.
My muscles loosened, inch by inch. And when I finally let my head tip back and laughed, it felt like a valve unclogged somewhere under my ribs.
My legs fell into rhythm before my brain approved of the decision.
Muscle memory from a hundred warm-up songs kicked in, my body recognizing release long before I did.
Evie whooped and threw an arm around my shoulders, shaking us both until I couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my mouth.
Micah caught my hand and spun me. Lola bumped my hip. Someone shouted lyrics off-key. And I let myself be part of it instead of standing outside it.
Laughing until my ribs ached, letting Micah spin me like we were eighteen and stupid, it felt foreign and familiar all at once.
Maybe I’d forgotten I was allowed to have nights that didn’t end in planning sessions or leadership notes.
I’d forgotten that life still needed to be lived in to be worth it all.
Work was important but play was just as important to these women too.
There was something comforting in knowing that despite the strict routine I kept, these women could still see when I needed a little extra help to let things go. On the pitch, in a bar, I had this deep-seated knowledge that they had my back and that was enough.
I didn’t look for Connor for the next hour. Not looking for him didn’t stop me from feeling him, though. A pull at the edge of my attention, subtle as static. But it was there under my skin, buzzing all the same.
When I eventually turned toward the bar, pretending to look for Evie, who’d just left us, instinct tugged my eyes to where he sat.
He wasn’t talking to Bobby anymore.
He was watching me.
And I wondered if he’d been watching me the whole time.
But as I slowed enough to catch my breath, a shadow slid in behind me, too close. Close enough that the hairs at the back of my neck lifted before I even heard his voice.
“Didn’t know the Valkyries had dancers,” the guy said, tone dripping with confidence. I didn’t recognize the voice at all—not like I had Connor’s when I’d charged into him earlier this week—and I’d drifted from the group a little.
I shifted back a step, enough to re-establish space, but he followed like he hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care.
“You’re the captain, right? I’ve seen you online,” he said, leaning in like we were already in conversation. “Let me buy you a—”
He didn’t finish, because Micah appeared at my side so fast it was almost comedic. She planted a hand against his chest, firm but polite.
“Yeah, no,” she said flatly. “Back it up, man. It’s girls’ night.”
The guy blinked. “I was just—”
“Doesn’t matter,” she cut in, her voice carrying that particular lethal softness she saved for referees who made terrible calls. “She’s with us.”
I was grateful for her intervention because I froze, which wasn’t like me at all.
I didn’t know what came over me. My scowl deepened as I looked at the man who thought it was fine to touch me without my consent.
I lifted my foot to step forward and give him a piece of my mind when a hand wrapped around mine.
Before I even registered what was happening, I was pulled back, gently but decisively, until my spine met solid muscle and a familiar chest pressed against my back.
His voice came next. A low timbre that settled in my bones rather than my hearing. One that I knew instantly.
“She said she’s with them.”
The guy’s gaze flicked between us, confusion twisting into annoyance.
But he wasn’t stupid. Not with Micah staring daggers into his soul and Connor, tall, calm, immovable, behind me.
I became hyper-aware of everything at once: the heat of him, the steadiness of his presence, the quiet certainty in his voice.
It was ridiculous how quickly my body recognized him and relaxed at his presence.
“Alright,” the guy muttered, lifting his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean anything.”
“Good,” Micah said cheerfully, already dismissing him with a shooing motion. “We’re done here.”
He disappeared back into the crowd.
But Connor didn’t let go.
His hand stayed around mine, his chest at my back, his breath brushing the shell of my ear as he leaned in just enough to speak without anyone else hearing.
“You okay?”
My pulse stumbled.
I hated that it did.
“I’m fine,” I said, even though the word sounded softer than I intended.
Micah gave me a look but didn’t comment. She drifted back toward Evie, giving us space I hadn’t asked for.
Connor’s thumb brushed once against my knuckles. A small, unconscious sweep, but it burned through me.
He let go only when I finally turned to face him, giving me back my hand like it was something delicate. I turned to face him, and he was closer than I’d expected. Close enough that the thrum of music felt distant compared to the sound of my own pulse.
I swallowed, painfully aware of how warm my skin felt. “I said I’m fine,” I repeated, because I thought he was going to ask again.
“I heard you.” His voice was low, even, almost frustratingly calm. His mouth opened to say something else and, god, save my soul. I almost leaned in closer, but self-preservation kicked in like an ice-cold bucket of water.
“O’Riley!”
Jake’s voice cut through the moment like a snapped cable. Connor’s jaw twitched once before he turned his head.
Jake stood a few steps away at the bar, clearly oblivious to the fact he’d just bulldozed through something fragile and uncomfortable and entirely too intimate.
“Your round,” Jake called. “Stop flirting and get over here.”
My body deflated, which concerned me far too much. Connor exhaled sharply through his nose. He didn’t move immediately as his attention flicked back to me, lingering for a beat longer than it should have.
“I guess that’s my cue.”
My stomach absolutely betrayed me at that.
He stepped back, shoulders squaring before he turned toward Jake. As he walked away, Jake clapped him on the back, saying something that was lost over the music.
Connor didn’t give me another glance.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to or if I’d completely fall apart if he did.