44
It was the day before the New Zealand v. United States match and Claire was in the hallway outside the Med Box when she received a voicemail from Jason’s agent again asking her to reconsider their relationship for the tabloids. The voicemail said that she can be paid handsomely.
Claire held up the phone to Tania’s ear.
“Get paid for what?” she said with disgust. “For being seen in public with him?”
“Yeah.”
“They do that?” She was shocked.
“I guess so,” Claire said, but she hasn’t heard of this type of thing happening, they must be desperate.
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing,” Claire confirmed. “I’m not going to put myself in a bad situation just for a paparazzi photo.”
Half the boys were finishing up stretches and recovery, while the other half were just starting up weight training and kinetics.
Kelsey overheard the conversation and chimed in. “Tania, you would hate this guy. Pretty to look at, but a complete knob head.”
“You met him?” she asked Kelsey.
“Oh yeah,” he laughed. “I’ve met him alright. He gave me a calendar for Christmas.”
“Please have the calendar,” Claire laughed, “It was disgusting. I never want to look at his penis ever again.”
Tania gasped in disbelief. “His penis!?”
Kelsey waved her into the locker room and lifted the bench seat in his designated spot. “Feast your eyes.” He pulled out the calendar that Jason graciously gifted Claire for Christmas.
“I cannot…” Tania was speechless. “You’re right, Kelsey, pretty but knobby.” She flipped through the pages. “I don’t even know what to say…”
“Barf comes to mind,” Claire said. “Or how about ew gross. Those are the words that came to my mind.”
“Horrific.” Tania said, rubbing Claire’s back.
“Well hung though,” Kelsey said.
Claire’s phone pinged to a text.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Can we meet? We need to talk.
Claire deleted the text, reported it as junk, and didn’t think of it for the rest of the day.
Practice ended quietly for once.
The kind of quiet that comes from bodies spent and minds already halfway into tomorrow. Boots were lined at the doors, music crooned low in the locker room, laughter softer than usual. The weight of the upcoming match hung over everyone like a held breath.
Claire was finishing notes in her office when the knock came.
It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t casual either.
“Yeah?” she called.
The door opened just enough for Jack to step in, already looking like he’d rehearsed this a hundred times and still hadn’t found the right words. He was already showered and changed and he was ready.
“Sorry,” he said. “I know it’s late.”
She glanced at the clock. 6PM. “You okay?”
He huffed a humorless laugh and shut the door behind him. “Not really.”
That made her sit back in her chair.
Jack scrubbed a hand over his clean face, pacing once before stopping in front of her desk. “I haven’t slept. Not properly. And I can’t… I can’t go into tomorrow carrying this baggage.”
Claire folded her hands together, steadily. “Then talk.”
He swallowed. “I didn’t know about Jason.”
Her chest tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t know he was your ex-fiancé. I didn’t know that going public with my feelings like that. I didn’t know what it would do to you.” His jaw tensed. “I thought I was being brave. Turns out I wasn’t.”
She watched him carefully now.
“I know you don’t like spectacles,” he continued. “You don’t like grand gestures. I see that now. I should’ve seen it before.” His voice dropped. “I messed up, Claire. Properly. And I’m sorry.”
Silence stretched between them, thick but not hostile.
“I love you,” Jack said finally. No press. No theatrics. Just truth laid bare. “And I don’t expect anything from you right now. I just–” he exhaled, shoulders sagging “–I need to know I said it the right way. At least once.”
Claire stood slowly.
“You don’t have to answer right away. I know that things like this take time.”
“Jack,” Claire said, trying to interject.
“I know that feelings can develop over time, and after Paris…”
“Jack,” she said gently, “I don’t think tonight you are going to get answers.”
He nodded immediately. “I know. I’m not asking for that.” Then, quieter: “Would you… would you get tea with me? The coffee shop is down the road. Just sit. Talk. I think if I can put this somewhere outside my head, I might finally sleep.”
She hesitated – not because of him, but because of everything surrounding him.
But she saw it then; the strain, the red-eyed honesty, the way his hands trembled just slightly at his sides.
“Okay,” she said. “Tea. No expectations. Let me grab my bag.”
Relief washed over his face so fast it hurt to see.
They walked out together, the facility nearly empty now. The evening air was cool, the sky bruised purple and gold as the sun dipped low. Their footsteps echoed lightly across the car park.
They didn’t make it far.
A figure leaned away from the brick wall near the entrance, arms crossed, posture unmistakably familiar. Taller somehow. Broader.
Waiting.
Claire stopped cold.
Jason Markey looked wild and disheveled. Exactly like a man who knew where he was and why.
“Well,” he said lightly, eyes flicking from Claire to Jack and back again. “This saves me a walk.”
Jason’s smile was sharp, all edges and no warmth.
He looked at Claire first, slowly and deliberately, then let his gaze slide to Jack with open assessment, like he was sizing up a rival on a depth chart rather than a human being.
“Funny thing,” Jace said casually, breaking the silence. “I fly halfway around the world and the first thing I see is you, out late with another man.” His eyes flicked back to Claire. “Does your boyfriend know you do this?”
The words landed exactly where he intended them to.
Claire felt her stomach drop, heat flaring up her spine. “Jason–”
Jack stepped forward immediately.
“Back off,” he said, voice low and hard, every ounce of levity gone. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”
Jason raised a brow, unbothered. “And you are?”
“Someone who knows when something is none of his fucking business.” Jack didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
These men were huge, Claire knew that if there was a fight right now, she wouldn’t be able to stop it.
Jason laughed once, short and humorless. “I know my business asshole, and my business is with this whore who keeps refusing my kindness." Jason walked right up to Jack’s face.
Claire inhaled sharply. “Stop. Both of you.”
Jason turned to her again, softer, but also somehow worse. “I just thought I should meet the people in your life these days. Given how… complicated things seem to be.”
“There is nothing complicated,” Jack snapped. “You’re just trying to stir something up before a match.”
Jason’s eyes finally hardened. “You’re right… I’m not here to start a fight.” He backed away from Jack, whose body was fully in front of Claire.
Jack took another step forward, causing Jace to back up even more. Jack’s shoulders squared. “Then walk away.”
“You won’t even do it for the money, Claire?” Jason yelled over to Claire. “Then what do you want?”
Claire didn’t respond. For a moment, it looked like Jason might just push it – might say one more thing, just to see who would break first.
Instead, he smirked.
“Enjoy your night,” he said to Claire. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up tomorrow.”
He turned and walked off into the dim car park, leaving the tension hanging thick and unresolved in his wake.
Jack exhaled slowly, then looked at Claire, concern written plainly across his face. “You okay?”
She nodded, though her hands were shaking. “Yeah. I just… didn’t expect him.”
“No one should talk to you like that,” Jack said quietly. “Ever.”
Claire met his eyes, grateful and overwhelmed all at once.
“What was he talking about? For the money?” Jack asked.
“He and his PR team want me to go in public with him to reconcile our relationship as there is renewed interest in his personal life as an American heartthrob."
“Oh…” Jack didn’t know what else to say.
“Thank you,” Claire said earnestly to Jack, “for stepping in.”
Jack touched Claire’s arm in comfort. “I’m always here for you. We will beat him to the ground. I can promise you that.”
The news spread fast.
Too fast.
Jack didn’t make a spectacle of it. He told the team the way brothers share everything. Plainly, in the locker room, while tape was being torn and boots were being laced. No drama. Just truth.
“He was waiting outside,” Jack said through gritted teeth. “Said something out of line to the Doc. Called her a whore and tried to convince her to go out with him again.”
The room went still. Like every molecule of air had decided to stop moving at once.
Toby’s hands curled slowly into fists.Smash muttered something sharp in te reo under his breath.Luck swore, low and vicious.Kelsey’s grin vanished entirely, replaced with something cold.
And Noah?
Noah didn’t speak at first.
He sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, staring at the concrete floor like he could burn a hole straight through it. His mouth twitched once. Twice. When he finally looked up, his eyes were dark – furious in a way that was frightening not because it was loud, but because it was contained.
“He waited for her?” Noah asked quietly.
Jack nodded. “Yeah.”
“And spoke to her like that?”
Another nod.
Noah stood.
The bench creaked as he rose, all six-foot-something of him unfolding with deliberate control. The room seemed to follow instinctively toward him. Their Captain.
“I should’ve been there,” Noah said, voice low and dangerous. “That’s on me.”
“I was there, Cap. I kept her safe.” Jack opened his mouth to continue. “I will always keep her safe.”
Noah held up a hand, not looking at him. “I know. I know you stepped in. And I’m grateful.” His eyes flicked to Jack then – sharp, complicated, honest. “But don’t think for a second it doesn’t eat at me that I wasn’t there to protect the team.”
The truth hung there, unsoftened.
Then Noah turned to the rest of the team and nodded at Tama in the doorway.
“He crossed a line,” Noah said. “Not just with the Doc. But with us.”
A murmur rippled through the room – agreement, anger, unity.
“She is one of us,” Noah continued. “Our teammate. Our family. She patches us up when we bleed, carries our bodies when we break. And some outsider thinks he can walk onto our ground and talk down to her? Talk down to the team?”
Noah shook his head slowly.
“Not today. Not ever.”
The room leaned in.
“We play for blood today,” he said, voice rising – not reckless, but resolute.
“Please don’t…” Tama said under his breath.
“Not dirty blood,” Noah continued. “Not stupid blood. But earned blood. Legal hits. Dominance. Control.”
“Don’t get thrown out,” Tama pleaded, but still softly.
Noah paced once, the way he did before big moments.
“We play for sport – because this is what we are built for. And we play for brotherhood – because no one touches what’s ours without answering to all of us. The whole team as one.”
His gaze swept the room, locking eyes with each man in turn.
“We don’t lose our heads. We don’t give them penalties. We give them hell between the lines.”
“Or give them a normal game of rugby…” suggested Coach Tama.
A beat.
“And when this is done,” Noah said quietly, “they will know exactly whose ground they stepped on.”
Silence.
Then Toby slammed his fist into his cubby door.
“Let’s go.”
The roar that followed shook the walls.
They all rubbed Liam’s head, for good luck. When they ran out together, it wasn’t just for a match. It was for each other. It was for their brotherhood. It was for their sport.