Chapter 43
Teddy
Connor left with his hands still on me.
He kissed me once at the door, slow and sure, his palm warm at the back of my neck, like he was memorizing the shape of me before he had to go. I let myself lean into it, just for the length of the kiss, before he pulled back reluctantly.
“I’ll be back in two days,” he said quietly, and I could see in his eyes the last thing he wanted to do was leave, even if it was to play rugby. “Call me if you need me before that.”
I nodded. “I will.”
He searched my face once more, then pressed his forehead to mine, inhaling deeply.
Then he left.
I moved into the living room on legs that felt a little shaky, bracing myself on the counter as I filled a glass with water. I had hardly breathed before the door opened again.
This time, there was no pause.
Arms wrapped around me from every direction, the air knocked from my lungs as familiar bodies crowded in close. I laughed on a broken breath, the sound half-sob, half-disbelief, as the room filled with the unmistakable sense of being claimed.
“We heard,” Lola said somewhere near my shoulder, her voice thick. “Micah texted.”
Evie’s forehead pressed briefly against my temple. “We’re so glad he’s alive.”
Delany’s arms tightened around my back, firm and grounding. “We weren’t letting you be here by yourself.”
I swallowed hard, my hands fisting into hoodies, the weight of them holding me upright when my knees threatened to fold again.
“They canceled training,” Micah said, unapologetic. “Don’t argue.”
“I wasn’t going to.” My voice came out watery. “I swear.”
“Good,” Lola replied. “Because you’re more important.”
I stood there in the middle of them, letting them hold me up, letting them comfort me.
Their arms stayed around me, not rushing to let go, not afraid of the mess I still was.
I knew that this was what it meant to belong to something bigger than yourself.
It wasn’t about the wins or the titles or the grind that everyone saw from the outside, but being caught when you faltered, being surrounded without having to ask, being known well enough that people showed up before you could even decide whether you wanted them to.
I’d spent so much of my life believing strength meant standing alone, carrying things privately, proving I could handle whatever came next without leaning too hard on anyone else.
But this wasn’t weakness. This was the opposite.
This was trust made visible, arms and bodies and familiar voices closing in, saying you don’t have to do this part by yourself.
“Thank you,” I croaked. “Just… thank you.”
Lola shifted slightly, her chin pressing into my shoulder. “You’re stuck with us,” she murmured.
Evie nodded. “That’s the deal. You lead us on the pitch. We’ve got you everywhere else.”
Being part of a team wasn’t just about shared goals or synchronized effort. It was about being seen in the moments you couldn’t perform and being claimed anyway.
And right there, held upright by people who knew exactly who I was and chose me regardless, I accepted that I wasn’t facing the next stretch alone.
It took them a while to let me go, and I didn’t complain. Eventually, Evie’s stomach growled, and Lola insisted on ordering pizza for us.
It was just me and Micah in the kitchen now, and it was obvious my best friend wanted some answers.
She leaned back against the counter, arms folded, watching me with the kind of patience that came from years of friendship.
“So…” she said, and waited until I met her eyes. “Connor.”
I exhaled, resting my palms flat on the counter, knowing this was so overdue.
“You already know more than anyone else.”
“I know he stayed,” she said evenly. “I know he left this morning. And I know you didn’t fight him when he took you home.”
I glanced toward the living room, the sound of my team filling the space, then back at her, fighting to find the words I didn’t even have for myself.
“Plus, I saw him sneak out of your place more than once,” Micah said with no judgement in her voice. “I was waiting for you to tell me, if you wanted to.”
I couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. “I never meant to keep it from you for so long.”
She didn’t say anything, just let me continue.
“It’s a lot to think about.”
Micah nodded once, like that answer made sense. “I like him for you.”
“You do?” I asked, my voice raising an octave.
“Don’t look so surprised. You guys had this weird chemistry in college. I always thought it would happen then, but I guess you both needed to grow up a little.”
A gargled noise flew out of my throat without my permission. “We hated each other then.”
She stifled a laugh behind her hand. “Sorry, it’s just… No, you didn’t. Like I said, there was something there, even if you won’t admit it.”
I wouldn’t because all I remember is plotting his academic demise on multiple occasions. Wondering if he’d make a mistake so I could ensure he’d remember it for the entire four years we were there. I wasn’t so lucky; he was a perfect student.
Micah’s smile widened, the kind that said she’d clocked every thought I wasn’t saying out loud. “Thinking about him?”
“No,” I denied, crossing my arms over my chest and lifting my chin. “Go away.”
“Mmhmm.” She reached for a glass, filled it with water, then leaned her hip against the counter, studying me. Taking a sip, she tipped her head, eyes softening just a fraction. “You don’t get that defensive over nothing, Teddy.”
“I get defensive over lots of things,” I said. “My team. My schedule. People touching my stuff.”
“And men you absolutely do not care about,” she added lightly.
“You’re uninvited. No pizza for you. Bye-bye.” I waved at her sarcastically.
Then she cackled, throwing her head back with joy, and I threw my hands in the air.
I was about to walk away when she turned to face me and took both of my hands in hers. “I’m gonna hold your hands while I say this, Teddy. You are allowed to be happy at work and in your personal life. One doesn’t have to cost you the other.”
She sounded like Natalie. I swear they were in cahoots.
But if both of the strongest women in my life were telling me this, then I knew I had to listen.
I swallowed, the weight of a looming choice settling into my lungs, my heart, and my soul. I wanted more with Connor, I just didn’t know how to admit that to myself, let alone him.
“I think he’s moving to Ireland,” I said with a sigh, knowing that was our biggest obstacle we’d avoided. I knew he wouldn’t bring it up again, especially not given the last twenty-four hours.
“I think you need to ask him,” Micah said plainly.
I looked down at our joined hands, at the way hers were steady while mine weren’t.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for the answer,” I admitted. Saying it out loud made it feel more real, more possible to lose. “If I ask, it stops being hypothetical. It stops being something I can pretend isn’t already decided.”
Micah squeezed my fingers once. “And you want this to just fizzle out? To never ask him and he just leave being a secret this whole time?”
I exhaled slowly. I didn’t want that.
“If you don’t ask, you’ll fill in the worst-case scenario. I know you, Teddy.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d been doing that my whole life—anticipating endings before they arrived, bracing for losses I hadn’t technically been handed yet. I guess you could say that I was born from a loss so big, so deep, that never really left me.
I’d learned early how to live with absence, with my father too, how to build a life around the shape of something missing and call it normal. Natalie was the only person to ever bridge that gap for me.
I’d absorbed the idea that love was temporary by default. That if you wanted it badly enough, you should also be prepared to lose it.
Micah watched me as that truth settled, her grip never changing, her expression unreadable in the way that meant she was listening, not waiting.
“I don’t think you’re afraid of the answer,” she said quietly. “I think you’re afraid of wanting him enough that it would hurt if he left.”
My throat burned. I didn’t bother denying it.
“I don’t want to ask him to stay and find out that I was just… convenient. Or that I mattered, but not enough.”
Micah laughed, shaking her head. “Teddy, I saw the way that man looked terrified for you yesterday. He wouldn’t back down from being able to see you, and he stayed with you after. If that’s simply convenient, then I don’t know what love looks like.”
The word sat between us, uninvited but impossible to ignore.
I swallowed, my throat burned.
“That doesn’t mean he won’t leave,” I said, quieter now.
“No,” Micah agreed. “It doesn’t. But it does mean you weren’t just something that fit into his schedule.”
I stared down at my socks, unsure how to verbalize all of this. “I don’t know how to ask for more without feeling like I’m asking him to choose between me and everything he’s worked for.”
Her head tilted, eyes narrowing slightly. “What makes you think he can’t have both?”
“I…” I had nothing to say to that. Long distance wouldn’t work, I was almost positive.
“You’re assuming he wouldn’t pick you, regardless, and I think if he could have both, he would.”
Hope sprung like a flower coming out of winter. I knew that was a dangerous feeling, but I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself imagine what it might look like to ask instead of assume.
I released a breath that felt like it had been stuck for days.
“I don’t want this to be a secret anymore.”
The truth of that didn’t scare me; it made me realize everything I’d been denying myself. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted him.