Chapter 32
Connor
We were clinging to it by the end, but that was never a bad thing. Anyone who had grown up around rugby knew that the best wins were rarely the clean ones.
The first half had all the hallmarks of an opening game—nerves humming under the surface, timing a little off, bodies hitting harder than they needed to. The rookies had played like they were trying to prove something every time they touched the ball, and I’d let them. That hunger mattered.
Somewhere before halftime, we’d found our rhythm.
We’d started trusting each other. When we’d crossed for our first score, the relief rolled through us like a tide.
At the break, we were ahead. Just. Grinning like idiots as we’d dragged in harsh breaths and traded shoulder knocks that meant we were still very much alive in it.
The locker room smelled like sweat and adrenaline. Someone cracked open a water bottle and tipped it straight over their head with a groan that made a few of the boys laugh.
“Jesus,” Jake said, bent over double with his hands on his knees and a patched-up eyebrow. “If that’s first-game energy, I’m not making it to finals without something being broken.”
“You’re making it,” Bobby shot back, peeling his jersey up to swap it for a new one. “Your pretty face will survive too; it’ll make you more irresistible to the ladies later if you throw in a black eye.”
Jake rubbed his hands together, grinning. “Fuck yeah, it will. I bet I can get an elbow to the face out there.”
The team cackled at his expense. “You’re utterly fucked in the head, man,” Nate grumbled next to me.
I looked around the room then. At the scuffed boots. The taped limbs. The mix of nerves and belief finally evening out.
“They’re going to come for us,” I said, keeping it simple. “That’s fine. Let them.”
A few heads lifted.
“We’re solid today, lads. It’s ours.”
We filed out a minute later, the concrete under our boots cool as the noise from outside swelled.
The tunnel narrowed us in, shoulder to shoulder, breaths syncing.
This buzz was unmatched. I fucking loved the game.
I knew that much. Yet, there was still something lingering just out of reach in my mind, begging me to think harder about it.
The first time I’d ever walked through a tunnel like this, I’d been small enough that my hand disappeared inside my grandad’s.
I barely remembered the match itself, just the way everything made me feel alive and so small in a world that was big.
When the light had opened up in front of us, he squeezed my hand once, firm and proud, like he was passing something to me as my heart raced.
My grandad had leaned down as we walked, his mouth close to my ear so I could hear him over the noise building ahead of us.
“This is the part you remember, boyo.”
Now, years later, the tunnel felt narrower.
Emptier too. My hand curled uselessly at my side, remembering a weight that wasn’t there anymore.
Back then, walking out had felt like stepping into purpose.
Like everything pointed forward. Now I caught myself thinking, not for the first time, about what I would remember from this season when it was over.
The wins would fade. The losses too. The noise would collapse into a highlight reel I’d barely watch.
What lingered lately were smaller things.
Moments without an audience. Being looked at not for what I could deliver, but for what I could pass on.
I still walked. I always would. But my grandad’s words followed me now in a different way.
This is the part you remember. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure he’d meant the tunnel at all.
Because standing there, with my team, was everything.
The big moments and the small, and the impact we had on future generations. Just like my grandad had on me.
We moved as one as we re-entered the green. There were voices shouting, banners being held up for us, and then they came into view. The Valkyries all in their own training kits in the stands above us. Lola cupped her mouth and yelled, “Come on, boys!”
“Pick up those thick thighs, Ledger.”
Jake whirled around, slapping said thighs with a wink. “I got you, darlin’.”
A few of the others with them whispered something and broke out into cackles that echoed around us as we all watched in awe.
“Go on now,” Evie said, shooing us away. “And if you embarrass us out here, we’ll never let you hear the end of it.”
Lola blew a kiss in Jake’s direction. “Run fast, boys.”
The laughter rolled easily between us, loose and loud, bleeding into the stands. People were filming now, catching the overlap of our teams doing what they usually do—giving each other crap, but with love.
I shook my head, laughing under my breath, and then I found Teddy.
She stood just behind the rail, arms folded, cheeks pink, clearly debating whether to disown the team publicly or not.
When Lola leaned in to say something in her ear, Teddy swatted her away without looking.
Then she gave me an unmistakable wink that lit me up inside, and Nate appeared next to me. “Did she just wink at you, Cap?”
“Pretty sure she did,” I said, still watching her.
Nate followed my line of sight, lips twitching. “Huh. That’s new.”
Coach’s voice carried across the green, loud enough to cut through the chaos. That was our cue.
We turned with even more whistles and yells behind us and set up, ready to win this fucking game.
***
The try came late and ugly from the opposite team.
A busted tackle out wide, a scramble that had turned into bodies on the turf, and then the ref’s arm went up as their winger slid over the line. The stadium had groaned as one, the scoreboard ticking over while we dragged ourselves back into position, chests heaving, sweat stinging our eyes.
The second half had been a grind—missed passes, bruising contact, momentum swinging back and forth and more cuts and scrapes than necessary. It wasn’t pretty rugby. It was rough.
The restart had come fast. We locked in, burned the final minutes down with stubborn carries and clean exits, boots thudding, lungs screaming. We kept the ball out of their hands as best we could, and when the whistle finally blew, sharp and final, it cut through everything.
Game over. Thank fuck.
Knights by five.
I bent forward, hands on my knees, dragging air into my lungs as the noise crashed over us. Cheers. Relief. Around me, bodies collided in back slaps and shouts, Jake already yelling something unintelligible as Bobby wrapped him in a headlock.
“Jesus.” Bobby puffed as he jogged up beside me, eyes wild. “You were flying today, Cap.”
“Everywhere,” Jake added, pointing at me. “Like you were possessed.”
I straightened, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, then spitting on the grass. “Just doing my job.”
Bobby snorted. “Nah. That wasn’t just fitness.” He leaned in, dropping his voice. “What, you get laid or something?”
Jake’s grin went feral when I stayed silent. “Oh, you fucking did!”
“That is none of your business,” I snapped. “Feck off with that shite.”
“He’s going all angry and Irish on us,” Bobby howled, already backing away. “He definitely got laid.”
I lunged for him, but he took off laughing.
Jake slung an arm around my shoulders. “I’m proud of you, mate. About time you broke the dry spell.”
“Jake,” I growled, “I did not get fucking laid.”
“Well, whatever you did,” he said cheerfully, “you need to do it before every game now if we want to keep winning. Wanna know what I did?”
“No.”
“I knew you did. Well, I—”
“Please shut up,” I begged, shoving him off me, and he made a show of zipping his mouth closed before he took off toward the fans.
I rolled my shoulders, letting the adrenaline drain just enough to think straight again. My lungs still burned, legs aching, but the noise around us was electric.
Making my way over to my team, who were all signing jerseys and taking selfies, I joined quickly. This part I enjoyed. Meeting the people who supported us would never get old.
I was signing another jersey when a tug at the hem of my shorts stopped me.
I looked down.
She was small, maybe seven or eight, with a Knights cap slipping off her head, freckles dusted across her nose like she’d been out in the sun all day. She clutched a handmade sign to her chest, the edges bent and loved.
“Hi,” she said, breathless. Then she blurted, “I came just to see you.”
That alone stole my breath. I crouched immediately, ignoring the noise around us. “You did?”
She nodded so hard her ponytail bounced. “I made this.” She unfolded the sign carefully. My name was written in thick marker, crooked and bold, with a number ten beside it and about twelve hearts crowded around it.
“When I grow up”—words tumbled over each other now that she’d started—“I’m gonna play rugby like you. I’m gonna be a fly-half and kick really far, and my mom says I run like the wind already.” She paused, eyes huge. “And I’m gonna be famous. But I’ll still remember you because you’re the best.”
My heart was a puddle at my feet.
“That’s a big plan,” I managed, smiling even as my throat burned.
I wanted her to have that plan, and I knew without reservation she would have more opportunities because of the woman I’d woken up with this morning.
Not because things were easy for women in this sport.
They weren’t. I’d seen how narrow the margins were, how often momentum depended on who was willing to keep pushing when attention drifted.
How much more deliberate they had to be, just to stay in the conversation.
But Teddy was changing the narrative. Her whole team was. It was important, and even more, it was needed.
I was starting to understand that there were other ways to matter. And now that the thought had taken ahold, it wasn’t letting go.
She leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “You’re my favorite. I tell everyone. Even my teacher.”
I laughed softly. “Yeah?”
“Will you sign it so I can keep it forever?”
I took the marker with hands that felt suddenly clumsy and signed my name carefully, like it mattered more than anything I’d done all day. When I handed it back, she gasped like I’d given her treasure. “Thank you so much, Mr. O’Riley.”
“My friends call me Connor, you know.”
She beamed and beamed, then we took a selfie and her dad joined in, shaking my hand and thanking me. I felt it then, whatever it was that was bigger than me. The something I’d been looking for this year.
When I finally stood, my eyes found the stands again without effort.
Teddy was watching, the look on her face almost reverent. She didn’t wave or clap like the others around her. She simply pressed her hand to her chest for a brief second, then lifted her chin at me.
I nodded, and my throat tightened, aware of how easily her presence had started to anchor me. That alone told me I was in over my head with her already. I knew I was beginning to care for her in a way that couldn’t easily be undone.