Chapter 41
Connor
I stood near the railing, arms folded, watching the Valkyries close the game out. Being here would never get old.
Teddy was everywhere in those final minutes.
Her voice carried even up into the stands, cutting clean through the chaos.
She moved with purpose, pointing, directing, demanding.
When the whistle went, she pulled her team in tight, and memories of that high assaulted me from my own wins.
Though, this felt like more. These teams were making history, and I got to witness it.
The fans surged toward the barriers almost immediately. Kids leaning over the railings, signs waving, phones raised. Teddy usually went straight there once the formalities were done. She always made time.
So when Micah got to her first, I noticed.
Micah wasn’t celebrating with her team. She took Teddy by the arm and leaned in, close enough that whatever she said wasn’t for anyone else. Teddy’s posture shifted instantly. A subtle collapse through her shoulders, like something had dropped out from under her.
She nodded once and turned away from the fans without a backward glance. Micah kept hold of her, steering her off the pitch and straight toward the tunnel.
Something was wrong.
My feet carried me inside, needing to find her. Micah was at the tunnel entrance, phone in her hand, jaw set. She ended the call the second she saw me.
“No,” she said immediately.
I stopped short. “What?”
“She needs a minute,” Micah said. “Go back to your seat.”
“Micah, come on,” I said, verging on begging as my heart beat harder. “Has something happened?”
She glanced down the corridor, then back at me, lowering her voice. “Her dad’s been reported missing in action.”
Her dad. I remembered what she’d said about him at the diner, about his career, but the reality of what he does, the risks he takes, never occurred to me or how it would affect Teddy.
“When?” I asked.
“Yesterday,” Micah said. “We just found out. That’s all we’ve been told.”
“Is she okay?” I knew she wouldn’t be, but a part of me needed confirmation. It was the same part that was thrashing against my ribs right now.
Her mouth opened, then closed again, like she was choosing between answers. “No,” she shared with a sad shake of her head. “She’s not.”
That was it. Whatever restraint I’d been clinging to slipped. “I need to see her.”
Micah’s brow furrowed, her head tilting as she assessed me.
I didn’t know if Teddy had the chance to speak to her since yesterday, but I wasn’t about to take that from her either.
But the urgency was there in my voice that would betray me.
The exposure of it, the way my clear desperation carried more weight than concern or courtesy ever could.
That wasn’t how you talked about a teammate’s captain.
That wasn’t even how you talked about a friend.
She moved to block me. “Don’t.”
I exhaled through my nose, hands flexing once at my sides before I stilled them. “I’m not leaving,” I said, standing my ground. There was no backing out of it now.
“She asked for space.” Micah’s gaze held mine, unblinking. “I’m trying to protect her.”
“So am I.” My voice came out firm, but I didn’t soften it. And I knew, as I held Micah’s gaze, that she’d heard exactly what I hadn’t meant to give away. She knew Teddy too well not to. “I care about her, Micah.”
Micah studied my face, weighing whether she could trust me. Her jaw ticked. She took a deep breath, resigned, and whatever line I’d just crossed stayed firmly behind me.
“The training changing rooms are empty,” she said. “She went there because she didn’t want the girls to see.”
That was all I needed; I didn’t wait for anything else. I moved, urgency buzzing under my skin. The door stood ajar as I pushed inside.
Benches bare, lights off, the room was quiet. But there was a dull static sound from the showers running.
My heart stuttered as I turned toward the stalls, and then a sound so broken carried over the water it stopped me where I stood. It wasn’t loud. It was as though she was trying not to be heard, and the knowledge that it was coming from her made my blood turn cold.
I pulled back the curtain to find her crumpled on the floor, fully clothed, hair plastered to her face, shoulders shaking as the spray poured over her, and something in me gave way as I sank to my knees beside her.
“Baby.”
She flinched at my voice, but when her eyes found mine, the fight went out of her, her mouth trembling as she tried and failed to hold herself together.
Everything in me wanted to put her back together.
Every single part of me needed to soothe her.
Water soaked through my clothes as I moved closer, blocking the spray with my body. She collapsed into me without hesitation, and I grabbed her with all my strength.
I ran my hands up and down her back, over and over, as she fell apart in my arms. I didn’t know how to make this better, but I wasn’t letting go.
“He’s missing, my dad,” she sobbed against me. “They don’t know where he is. They don’t know anything.”
Her face pressed into my neck as the water kept falling around us.
“I’ve done this my whole life,” she said, words rough and tumbling. “Deployments. Waiting. Things might not be great between us, but he’s always been there. This feels different. I knew it the second Micah told me.”
She sobbed into my skin, and I hoped some of the pain would transfer to me, so I could hold it for her.
“I can’t lose him,” she whispered. “He’s all I have.”
Her body shook against mine, grief tearing through her in waves she wasn’t trying to control anymore.
“You’re not doing this by yourself,” I said, the truth of it settling deep as I spoke. “Not now. Not any of it.”
She stilled just enough to lift her head.
Her eyes found mine, searching, raw and unguarded in a way I’d never seen before. For a second, I thought she was going to say thank you. Or nothing at all.
Instead, she swallowed hard.
“That’s not true,” she said, more tears filling her eyes.
I frowned. “Teddy—”
“I know how this goes,” she pushed on, the words spilling out like they’d been waiting for the smallest opening. “I know I’m going to lose him. And I know I’m going to lose you to Ireland.” She spoke through another sob, breaths heaving. “I’ve heard the whispers. I know what’s coming, Connor.”
She clutched at my shirt again, fingers curling tight, like she was bracing herself for impact that hadn’t happened yet.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” she whispered. Hearing her say it like it was inevitable made my heart go still. So, I closed the distance between us, pressing my forehead to hers, my hands firm at her back, keeping her close to me.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “Look at me.”
Her gaze flickered, unfocused, then found mine again.
“This isn’t that,” I told her. “Not right now.”
She shook her head, small and exhausted. “It’s all the same.”
“No,” I said, steady enough that it cut through her spiral. “This moment isn’t about what might happen months from now. It’s about you falling apart because your dad is missing, and me being right here while it hurts.”
Her breath hitched on a cry.
“You don’t have to be brave right now. I’ve got you.”
She stared at me like she wanted to believe me and didn’t quite know how.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, lingering on her skin, threading my fingers behind her ear and into her braid. “I’m here.”
Something in her gave way again. She leaned back into me, her grip tightening, her face pressing into my neck like she needed the proof of it.
I wrapped myself around her, holding her close, letting her cling as much as she needed to.
We could talk about Ireland another day.
We could talk about everything another day.
Right now, all that mattered was keeping her upright while the ground under her shifted.
***
It took a minute to convince her to lift her head, to let me peel the soaked jersey over her arms and her shorts away, leaving her in just her underwear and sports bra.
She watched my hands like she needed to know exactly what they were doing, where they were going, as if control mattered again, now that everything else had slipped.
I understood it, and I made slower moves.
I turned the water warmer and guided her back under the stream, one hand steady at her waist before I worked shampoo into her hair.
She sagged into the touch, eyes shut, head tipping back while I rinsed it out, careful not to rush, careful not to crowd her.
Her breathing stalled a few times, but she didn’t pull away.
When I shut the water off, she reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself with shaking hands. I found another one and pressed it into her hair, rubbing gently.
“Stay here,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I’m going to grab you something dry.”
She nodded, but it was weak.
“I’ll be right back,” I added, because it felt important to say.
She didn’t move when I stepped out of the stall. Just stayed where I’d left her, wrapped in the towel, head bowed like the effort of standing was already enough.
The sight stirred a memory. When my grandad died, the world had tilted overnight. Familiar things were suddenly unreliable, routines stripped of their meaning. It had been devastating, but it had also been final. There were answers, however brutal they were.
This was different.
Teddy wasn’t grieving something that had ended. She was suspended inside not knowing, and that was somehow worse, more prolonged pain. And where I’d been carried through the worst of it by my family who refused to let me disappear into myself, Teddy was standing here alone.
I wasn’t leaving her like this.
The locker room was still empty, but still, I moved fast, grabbing a clean Valkyries training top from the locker with her name on it, a pair of sweats, and socks.
Then I looked in the storage closet I knew was in here, housing some of our extra training kit too, and quickly changed my wet clothes into dry.
When I came back, she was still there.
I helped her remove the wet underwear and dress without comment, without making it into anything more than it was.
She leaned into me while I tugged the shirt over her head, steadied herself on my shoulder while she stepped into the sweats.
When it was done, she rested her forehead against my chest and stayed there.
“You good to walk?” I asked.
She nodded again.
Micah was waiting just outside the locker room door, arms folded, already watching for us. Her gaze flicked over Teddy quickly, checking what needed checking, then landed on me.
“I’ve cleared the back hallway,” she said. “Girls are occupied. Media’s gone.”
Teddy didn’t react. She stayed close, her hand curling into the fabric at my side.
Micah opened the door and stepped aside. “Let’s go.”
I kept my arm around Teddy’s shoulders, adjusting when her steps faltered, matching her pace when it slowed. She didn’t speak. Didn’t look up. Just followed.
At the exit, Micah paused.
“I’ll check in later,” she said to Teddy. “You don’t need to answer anyone tonight.”
Teddy nodded, eyes glassy, and Micah grabbed her and hugged her tight before stepping back.
I guided her to the car.
She stared out the window as I pulled away, silent, exhausted.
“I’m taking you home,” I said, letting her know that I hoped I knew what she needed, and that was to not make a decision right now.
She didn’t argue. Just rested her forehead against the glass.
The drive was short, but it felt longer with the weight of everything sitting between us. I kept one hand on the wheel and the other ready, hovering near the console in case she reached for it. It took her a second, but she slid her hand into mine and angled her body closer to me.
When I pulled up outside her building, she hesitated before unbuckling, like the next step required more from her than she had left.
“I’ve got you,” I said, already out of the car.
She let me guide her inside, passing me her keys.
The apartment was dark and still.
She kicked her shoes off without looking and sank onto the couch like her legs had finally given up. I grabbed a blanket from the back of the chair and draped it over her shoulders, tucking it in around her before she could protest.
“I’m just going to get you some water.”
When I came back, she took the glass with both hands, fingers trembling, and sipped slowly. I sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, close enough that she didn’t have to reach if she leaned forward.
“You don’t have to talk,” I said. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Her eyes lifted to mine then. “I don’t want to be alone,” she admitted, bottom lip wobbling.
“You won’t be,” I replied immediately. “I’m staying.”
That seemed to be the thing that finally settled her nerves. Her shoulders sagged, tension draining out of her in a way that looked almost painful. She leaned forward and pressed her face into my chest, arms sliding around my waist like she needed the contact to stay upright.
I wrapped myself around her and let her hold on as long as she needed.