47
By the time Claire agreed to go out with them, she still didn’t know what she was feeling. Her thoughts were loud.
The Crusaders, what was left of them anyways, spilled into the Harbour Bar in a crooked, limping procession.
It was a group of men held together by athletic tape, stubborn pride, and adrenaline.
It was a miracle any of them were upright.
Faces were swollen. Lips split. Ice packs were tucked into hoodies.
Toby had one of his arms in a sling, and still double-fisted pints of lager.
They look like survivors of a small war.
And somehow… They were laughing.
“This is the best sport. I’m telling you,” Liam said, collapsing into a booth. “I love it. It’s legal violence.”
Miko dropped beside him with a dramatic hiss. “I got kneed in the kidney. I met God. She told me to stretch more.”
“God’s a she?” Liam asked.
“I only get bossed around by powerful women,” Miko confirmed.
Toby lifted one of his beers carefully with both hands, one in a sling. “Ow ow ow,” he powered on. “I cannot feel my shoulders. They’re decorative now.”
Liam squinted at Toby’s bruised face. “Bro… your eye is three different colors.”
Toby grinned lopsidedly but drank more than half of the pint in one big swig.
Claire sat at the very end of the table, wrapped in a sweater, watching them with something fragile in her chest. Every movement was stiff. Every laugh came with a wince. They looked like they’d been dragged behind a truck.
She already warned them about drinking while taking pain killers. They all said they would rather drink, than take the pain away.
Kelsey arrived last, moving slower than usual, his bearded face wild and bruised, eyebrow taped. He slid into the seat across from Claire.
“Rough day,” he said to Claire.
“That’s an understatement,” Claire responded.
“Where’s Cap?” asked Miko.
“Talkin’ to the press,” Kelsey responded.
“Skid?” asked Liam.
“Recovering,” Kelsey said, “he looks like an actual dumpster fire.”
“I swear I made that tackle clean,” Liam argued with Miko.
“That guy ran around you like a mini-ice cream cone,” yelled Miko back, making the soft serve swirling motion with his finger. “It was fucking embarrassing.”
“It was pretty funny,” Kelsey chimed in laughing.
Liam gasped. “Betrayal. From my own hooker.”
Then some of the U.S. rugby team entered the bar.
They made their way over to the team with handshakes and smiles.
Even after one of the most intense games Claire has ever seen, they are still friends.
There’s no real rivalry here between people with a true love of the sport.
She looked around for Jason, hoping he wasn’t there. She didn’t see anything.
“I don’t see him,” Kesley whispered into Claire’s ear.
“Yet…” said Claire, but she felt uneasy. He was here somewhere, stalking, prowling, like an uncaged animal.
“Hell of a game,” the U.S captain said, gripping Miko’s forearm. “You bastards nearly killed us.”
Miko gladly took his hand, and laughter rippled through both teams.
“I’m grabbing another beer,” Claire announced to the table.
The bar was packed and loud. Sticky wood beneath her palms. Music thudding through the floor. She ordered, waited and exhaled slowly.
That’s when Jace slid into the empty space beside her.
Not aggressive this time.
Quiet.
Controlled.
“Claire.”
She didn’t turn immediately. “You shouldn’t be here, Jace.”
“I know,” he said softly. “And I won’t stay long.”
She faced him then. He looked calmer than earlier. Cleaned up, he showered, fixed his nose. He looked composed. Almost remorseful.
“I owe you an apology,” he said. “What I said earlier… how I came at you. It was wrong.”
Claire stayed quiet.
“I panicked. I crossed the line. I was embarrassed and desperate, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”
The bartender slid her drink over. Claire took it without thinking, fingers wrapping around the cold glass.
Jason raised his hands slightly. “Truce?” he asked.
She studied him. The sincerity looked practiced, but the physical and emotional exhaustion dulled her instincts.
“Fine,” she said finally. “Truce. That’s it.”
He nodded, relief flickering across his face.
“Good,” he said softly.
From behind her, Toby shouted “Doc”, waving her over.
Jason smiled faintly. “Go. I’ll stay out of your way.”
She turned, lifting her glass slightly in acknowledgment as she stepped away.
She didn’t see him glance down.
She didn’t see the subtle movement of his hand.
Didn’t notice the brief pause as he brushed past her abandoned coaster.
By the time Claire rejoined the table, laughing at something Kelsey said, the drink in her hand looked exactly the same.
Light brown beer.
Cold.
Harmless.
Jason watched from across the room, eyes never leaving her.
Waiting.
The last thing that Claire remembered was sitting in the booth with the guys when the room started swirling.
“I think I’ve been drugged,” she slurred before her head slammed onto the table.
Consciousness returned to Claire in fragments.
First came sound, muffled and warped as if the world were wrapped in cotton. A rhythmic beeping pulsed somewhere close, too loud and too far away at the same time. Voices drifted in and out of focus, syllables stretching and collapsing, meaningless noise brushing the edges of her awareness.
Then came weight.
Her body felt impossibly heavy, as though gravity had doubled while she was gone. Her limbs refused to respond when her brain whispered commands. Fingers tingled faintly, numb and distant. Even breathing felt deliberate, mechanical. Air pulled in without effort, released without permission.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Light stabbed through the darkness in thick blinding shards. She squeezed them shut again instinctively, a dull ache blooming behind her eyes. When she tried once more, the room swam into view slowly.
She knew who she was before she knew where she was.
Claire. Doctor. Team. Bar.
The bar.
Her stomach dropped.
The last clear thing she remembered was a cold glass in her hand, laughter around her, Jason was there. His face was too calm, too controlled for the meltdown he had at the Med Box. The realization landed with sickening clarity, sending a cold ripple through her chest.
She wasn’t hungover.
She hadn’t fainted.
She’d been drugged.
Her eyes shifted weakly, scanning the room. She landed on a familiar face.
Noah.
Noah sat in the chair beside her bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together like he’d been holding himself still for hours. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes, but the moment he saw her move, he was on his feet.
“Claire.”
His voice broke on her name.
He touched her face, like he was afraid she might disappear again.
“You’re awake,” he whispered, a breath of relief leaving his chest. “Thank God.”
Her throat was raw from what she assumed was an intubation tube recently removed, but she managed, “Noah…”
He gently took her hand, warm and solid and grounding, and pressed it to his lips. His thumb brushed slow, careful circles over her knuckles.
“You scared the hell out of us,” he said softly. “You scared me.”
Her brow furrowed. “What… what happened?”
Pain flickered across his face, but he kept his voice calm for her.
“You collapsed at the bar,” he said. “You were unresponsive. I got a call from the U.S. captain. He said that you weren’t even drunk. I came immediately. Beat the ambulance here.”
Her heart stuttered. “Jason…”
Noah’s eye twitched.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “That prick roofied you.”
The words landed heavy and brutal.
Claire sucked in a shaky breath. “I knew something felt wrong…”
Noah squeezed her hand gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You trusted a truce. That’s strength… not weakness.” It was if he said everything she needed to hear.
Tears slid down her temples into her ears and hairline.
“What happened after?” she asked.
His expression hardened just slightly. Protective. Controlled anger simmering beneath the surface.
“He didn’t get far,” Noah said. “Smash and Luck and Kels noticed him lurking around you at the bar, so when you went down, everything exploded. Even Toby got some punches in with one bum arm. Coppers showed up, but Jason was pretty beaten up.” He looked into her eyes for reassurance.
“The U.S. captain got involved. It was a mess.”
“And?” Claire whispered.
“And Markey picked the wrong room full of professional athletes to fuck around with,” Noah said flatly.
Her eyes widened.
“He was beaten badly enough that he’s in the hospital too. Different wings. Under police supervision. He won’t bother you again, Claire.”
She closed her eyes briefly, overwhelmed.
“So much for his reconstructed image,” Noah said. “I suspect you will be getting a call from his agent, publicist, and lawyer very soon.”
“Noah… my parents–”
“Kelsey called them,” he said quickly. “The second the doctors stabilized you. He handled everything. Flights, updates, logistics. They know you’re safe. Your mum is on her way.”
Relief crashed over her in a wave so strong it made her chest ache.
She turned her head slightly, looking at him. “You stayed?”
His lips curved faintly, sadly. “I wasn’t leaving. Not for anything.”
Her grip tightened on his hand.
Tears slipped freely now, quiet, and exhausted.
With absolute devotion, he lifted her hand again and carefully pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“I’m going to call the nurse now, but I’m not going anywhere,” he told her. And he pressed the red button next to the gurney, alerting staff that the patient, Dr. Claire Ashford, was finally awake.