Chapter 39
Teddy
“Teddy, Denver threw a lot at you in those final minutes,” the reporter for the Women's Sports Channel said. “What was the message defensively when they kept the ball through so many phases?”
“We knew it would be a tough game,” I said, breath still uneven, chest rising and falling as the adrenaline slowly drained away. “So the focus was on staying connected, not biting in, and trusting that if we held our shape long enough, we’d force a mistake.”
Another voice cut in quickly. “You seemed particularly strong at the breakdown tonight. Was that a point of emphasis coming into the match?”
“It always is,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my mouth. “But credit goes to the work rate. We were disciplined with our entries, we didn’t chase turnovers that weren’t on, and when the opportunity came, we took it.”
“You’re now sitting top of the table. Does that change how you approach the next few fixtures?”
“It’s a good position to be in, but it doesn’t earn you anything by itself. We still have matches to win, and teams will come at us harder now. That’s something we welcome.”
“Does that bring added pressure?” the reporter asked.
I exhaled slowly before answering. “Pressure’s part of the job.
I think the difference now is that we trust what we’re doing.
We’ve built this over time. We might be in our first professional season, but we’re all seasoned athletes in the game, and that makes it easier to stay calm when it matters. ”
The reporter nodded. “Does it feel different leading the competition in a league that’s still finding its footing?”
I chose my words carefully. “It does, because it matters,” I said. “We’re not just playing for results. We’re showing what’s possible when women are given the platform, the resources, and the trust to perform at this level. Nights like this prove we belong here.”
“Thank you for your time, Captain. We wish you all the best in your season.”
“Thank you,” I said, handing the mic back as the camera light clicked off.
The noise of the stadium rushed back in the second I stepped away. I took a moment to roll my shoulders before heading toward the tunnel. The adrenaline was still lingering under my skin, but it had morphed into something warmer as I pushed through the locker room doors.
The music was already louder than it had any right to be.
Lola had climbed onto one of the benches, towel slung over her shoulder like a cape, belting out lyrics that only loosely matched the song while Evie heckled her from across the room. Someone wolf-whistled as I walked in.
“Captain!” Lola and Delany shouted. “Did you tell them we’re unstoppable?”
I laughed, the sound slipping out easily now, as ice packs were traded and jerseys hit the floor, the room buzzing with that loose, unfiltered energy that only came after a win.
“Top of the table, baby,” Lola said again, shaking her head like she still couldn’t quite believe it.
“Say it slower. I want to savor it,” Delany said, closing her eyes.
“Top. Of. The. Table.”
Cheers and shouting manifested. The joy was infectious, rolling through the team like a current. Everything was aligning—the constant effort, the sacrifice, the early mornings and relentless training schedules. But it was more; it was this team, my team.
The women who showed up every day and trusted each other to do the same. Who carried their weight without being asked. Who made space and demanded better and didn’t flinch when it got hard. This didn’t work because of one moment or one win. It worked because of us.
I didn’t feel like I was chasing the end. I wanted to stay here in this high because it was ours and we were building a real future together.
My heart skipped a beat when I looked at all these women around me.
“Cap, you’re out with us tonight, no excuses.” Evie pouted at me. “I need a drink and you’re buying.”
“Oh, am I?” I scoffed but knew I would. I’d do just about anything for them right now.
Evie grinned, utterly unrepentant. “I got us that final try.”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself, as I peeled off my kit and headed toward the showers with the rest of them, the air already thick with steam and laughter.
Someone argued over who’d had the better tackle count, while someone else insisted they’d definitely been robbed of player of the match, and Delany was loudly declaring that hot water should be considered a human right after eighty minutes of defense.
By the time we were clean and changed, the locker room looked like a tornado had passed through it, and we looked like a team that knew exactly what it had earned. Hair was still damp, clothes pulled on over tired bodies, makeup applied with varying degrees of success.
We spilled out toward the foyer together, still laughing, still riding the win.
The men’s team was already there, lined up near the entrance like they’d been waiting for us, a chorus of cheers breaking out the second we appeared.
There was clapping, others whistling. I caught sight of familiar faces, all grinning wide, and then I realized they were in blue.
Every single one of them was wearing a Valkyries jersey, and my jaw dropped.
I never would’ve guessed that sharing a stadium would’ve resulted in this.
I thought it was going to be full of frustrations and awkward encounters.
This was something else. This was a team supporting another team, and I suddenly felt stupid for ever doubting that rugby would foster that bond between us all.
I’d been so caught up in leading that I’d forgotten how much I could learn from my teammates, from others.
“Oh my god,” Lola’s hand flew to her mouth, then she immediately burst out laughing. “You did not.”
Jake grinned, tugging at the hem of his jersey, turning to reveal her number. “We absolutely did.”
“Figured it was only fair,” Ramirez called out, showing Evie’s number. “Top of the table deserves proper representation.”
“Is that my number?” Delany demanded, pointing at Nate. “You didn’t earn that.”
“I wore it with respect.” He smiled.
I was still scanning the line, still taking in the ridiculousness of it all, when someone shifted, and everything in my body paused.
Connor turned just enough for the number on the back of his jersey to come into view.
My number, stretched across his shoulders like it belonged there.
He didn’t need to say anything for it to feel intimate, or risky, or quietly brave.
Standing there in my jersey, in front of both teams, he was claiming something he’d never claimed out loud before.
Even if I knew he wasn’t going to kiss me in front of all these people, our people, it didn’t matter.
My pulse kicked harder as pride tangled with something more fragile, something that wanted to believe in the permanence of moments like this, even when I knew better than to trust them too easily.
He walked over, smiling, his hands twitching to reach for me.
“I wanted the captain’s name on my back tonight.” He leaned in, breath brushing my ear, and the line we were straddling as co-captains, friends, whatever this was, was as thin as ice, especially with the crowd around us. “Was hoping it might earn me something later.”
The rush of heat to my face almost sent me to the floor. I planted my feet and looked up at him, steeling my need to press my lips to his.
“Well…” I said finally, forcing the calmness out. My eyes flicked for a second to Micah, and she was assessing me in a way that made it feel like there was a spotlight above my head. So I tried deflecting with sass. “I hope you’re all enjoying wearing the team that’s ahead of you on the table.”
“Smack talk from the captain,” Jake interrupted, slapping Connor’s shoulders, looking between us. “I swear, you two would be great fuck buddies. All that tension makes me feel it, too. Such a waste.”
I froze, and my eyes bugged out like a cartoon.
The laugh that followed didn’t reach me. It stayed distant, caught on the sudden spike of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with how exposed I suddenly felt.
It was just Jake being Jake. I knew that.
I’d heard worse out of him before. My gaze flicked to Connor, who was still smiling, easy, unfazed on the surface, like the comment had rolled right off him.
Not an ounce of tension in his shoulders.
And that—more than the words themselves—made something cold slide into my chest.
Because what if that’s how he saw it?
My stomach twisted as the realization settled, the panic slow and unwelcome.
If he’d felt the same jolt I had, he was hiding it better than me. I forced my shoulders back, trying to calm myself before the spiral could take hold properly.
This wasn’t the place. I’m not sure I was ever going to be ready to freak out over whatever this was between Connor and me, but I sure as shit wasn’t about to do it in front of our teams.
“You good?” Connor asked, as the rest piled out of the door.
I shook my head, not able to summon the bravery to confront what this was. “Yeah.” And the Oscar for the most unconvincing performance goes to…
Connor lifted his hand to touch me, but dropped it quickly as more of our teammates moved past us. “Jake’s just shooting his mouth off,” he said easily. “Don’t worry about it.”
He read my mind, sure enough, but he didn’t delve deep enough to hear the thoughts that were bubbling inside me.
That I needed to know if he felt it too.
That I didn’t want to be the only one.
That I didn’t want to be braver than he was.
That if I asked, I couldn’t un-ask.
I nodded anyway, because that was easier for the situation we were in. Easier than admitting I was a mess from him wearing my jersey and wanting it to mean more than it did.
“Let’s go get a drink,” is all I said, keeping my voice easy.
He brushed his hand against mine, and that was enough to calm my nerves to get through the evening.