Chapter 29 Tieran
We’ve won another two matches since the last, and the papers are now saying we’re experiencing a comeback.
It feels like a gross understatement.
The way I feel now compared to the way I felt a few months ago is like I was body snatched and put into a completely different person.
Transformation is what has been coursing through my veins in the few weeks since Jade’s pep talk.
I no longer feel dread when I step through the double doors of the personnel entrance to the stadium.
Instead, I feel invigorated—like a dam burst, releasing all the shite muddling my brain.
In its place is peace and focus.
In its place is a woman who loves me and believed in me even when I was at my worst and couldn’t believe in myself.
I refuse to do anything but prove her right.
The tunnel leading to the locker room has all manner of crew roaming around. A couple other teammates are ahead of me, janitorial staff pops in and out, and just as I’m about to walk into the locker room, Ballard stops me with a hand to my chest.
“McKallen wants to see you in her office.”
I try not to let the excitement show on my face at the prospect of seeing my girl. Never mind the fact that I saw her this morning in my bed…several times, and then once more in the kitchen over breakfast.
It will never be enough—being with her, listening to her tell me about her day, having her ask me about mine, cooking dinner together, waking up with her spooning Pebble and me spooning her.
I want it every day for the rest of time, and then I want to be greedy and demand to have her in whatever comes after death.
“Sure thing, Coach. I’ll be back soon.” He nods, clapping me on the arm. He looks as if he wants to say something but decides to withhold whatever it is.
Jade’s office is only a short walk down the corridor, and before I know it, I'm standing at her door about to knock as Harry, our equipment manager, walks by.
“Hey, Harry. You alright, mate?” He looks a little skittish as I address him, but he’s always been a little socially awkward.
“All good, sir.”
“We’re friends, no need for formalities. Is everyone being good to you?” Namely Connor, who has a penchant for bullying the poor lad.
“Yes, sir—” I raise my eyebrow and smile slightly. “Yes, Tieran, everything’s good.”
I knock on Jade’s door and hear her call out, “Come in.”
“Good. Let me know if you need anything.” There’s a weird look in his eyes as I open Jade's office door, and he looks beyond at Jade sitting at her desk, then back to me, nodding before he scampers away.
Odd.
I push the interaction out of my mind and step into Jade’s sun-drenched office.
She’s sitting at her desk, worrying a pen in between her lips as she bites on the end, looking sexy as sin.
A billion fantasies rush to the forefront of my mind, the first being me bending her over her desk, pushing up her skirt, and making her writhe atop all her paperwork.
“Stop looking at me like that, Mr. Stone.”
“If you want me to stop looking at you like this, then you shouldn’t look like that.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s no heat behind it, a tiny smile curving the corners of her mouth.
The small smiles are my second favourite.
It’s the one she typically reserves for when she’s trying to act unaffected by my charm, but it cracks through anyway.
My favourite smile is the one I know is specifically reserved for me, the uncontainable one that lights up her face and makes her eyes glow like a flame.
The smile I've never seen on her face around anyone but me. It was unguarded and real, and it never fails to strike me speechless. I feel like the luckiest bastard in the world to be on the receiving end of that level of magnificence—feel unworthy of it, but I’m too selfish to not beg for more.
“How are you feeling?” Jade’s question forces me out of my daydreaming about…well, her.
I take a seat opposite to her desk, leaning forward and resting my forearms on top of my thighs. “Good. Great, actually. I'm excited more than anything.”
“Maybe the match will help you shake off some of that incessant energy you always have,” she snipes playfully.
“I can think of a much more enjoyable way for that, love.” I sit back, legs spreading wide as I spear her with the heat of my gaze. “It involves you on your bed with your nails raking down my back.”
Her eyes go molten before solidifying in challenge. “Win the match, and you can have me any way you want.”
My dick hardens in my soft knit joggers. “Careful with your promises. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?” The fire in her eyes ignites as she scans me head to toe, her gaze searing over every inch of my body.
“Nah, baby. I just want you to be thinking about it when I score the try that’s going to win this match. That way, you’ll remember what’s coming for you after.”
Jade stares me down like a lioness stalking its prey, and I have the distinct feeling that even though I’m the one making the bold claims, she’s the one calling the shots. “Get on the pitch and put your money where your mouth is, Captain.”
I smile a devil’s grin, making her sit up straighter in her chair. “Yes, boss.”
The energy from the crowd combined with the players on the pitch is nothing short of frantic.
Up until this point, the match has been evenly tied from team to team.
The second we score a try, Birmingham scores the next.
Back and forth, the ball is transferred, men are tackled, rucks are formed, and all I feel is a pulse-pounding surety that this match is ours for the taking.
Even with Birmingham being in one of the top spots for the Premiership, and the whole rugby fandom believing they would be the ones to win, I just know it’s ours.
The score is tied, and the opposition has possession of the ball, heading downfield toward the try line that could win them the game, only minutes ticking down on the clock.
Then, the stands erupt into a steady bass drum, a familiar chant ringing out over the crowd; Legends, tales of old, men with feet of gold.
On and on, the song rings out as sweat pours down my back despite the chill in the autumn air.
“Ekon! Grab their centre!” I shout, and he nods, running in the direction of the player holding the ball. He doesn’t see Ekon approach from behind and falls like a tree when he takes him out at the knees. “Cav!”
“Got it,” Cavan’s voice is a whisper on the wind, but I hear him all the same.
He joins the fray, wrestling the ball away from Birmingham’s centre.
Myles knows without me saying anything to get in there and slip the ball from his centre pair, but before he can, a forward on the other team steals it out of his hand and runs far faster than he looks able to.
We’re close—too close—to another win to let it go in the final minute.
I can taste the victory on my tongue when I hear Jade’s voice in my head: you can have me any way you want.
And it’s that dark incentive that fuels the superhuman pump of my legs as I run faster than I ever have.
Cavan and Myles are ganging up on the other player, and he’s about to pass the ball to his teammate, but I get there first and latch on to the ball, pausing only for a second to turn and dodge the player that it was meant for.
Then, I’m running like I have Hermes winged sandals attached to my feet.
The volume around the crowd is explosive, and my heart thumps out of my chest, but I can’t stop with the players closing in on me.
I’m ten metres from the line, and I remember another time I was in this position, so close but still falling short of the mark.
Not today. I’m different now, better than I was before.
Seven metres.
I pass where Jade, my sister, and all the other VIPs sit on the sidelines, and I can hear Jade yelling the same cry as the crowd. Her voice rings out over the din of thousands and reaches my ears even from forty feet away. Her voice, her cheers, are for me. Always for me.
I incline my head a little in her direction, smiling wide enough that the dimple I know she loves, the one she’s taken to kissing in recent weeks, pops in my cheek.
This is for me, that smile says, but it’s also for you.
Always for you. I swear, I can hear her screaming louder in response to that smile.
Two metres.
I feel the fly-half from Birmingham grab my jersey, and I stumble a step, falling out of his hold and pumping my legs even harder, begging them to run, move, to get us across that line.
One metre.
I take a leap and dive over the line, landing on my stomach, sliding over the chalked demarcation, and touch the ball to the grass, scoring the winning try of the game we were predicted to lose.
All around me, the stands full of fans lose their minds, and a single chant begins to build in surround sound.
STONE. STONE. STONE.
My teammates rush to me, clapping me on the shoulders before lifting me in the air to revel in the sounds of the game I love more than almost anything.
I find her in the stands wearing all burgundy, her arms slung around my sister’s shoulders, Aanya to her right, hugging a stranger.
She’s crying out my name with the crowd, the brightest smile I’ve ever seen lighting up her magnificent face, and I levitate out of my body, thanking the universe for all the hardships I faced over the last year because it brought me her.
After an hour, many press interviews, and a shower later, I’m finally packing up to leave for the evening, aching to get home to my girl and all the promises that were made prior to the match.
“Stone!” I jump at the sound of Ballard calling my name in a gruff, authoritative tone.
“Yes, sir?”
“Good job tonight. That was a hell of a winning play and a great one for the scouts to see in person.” He says it so casually, I almost don’t catch it.
“I’m sorry—scouts?”