Chapter 27
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
The whistle blows, and the game picks up again. I can feel the adrenaline surging through me as I take my position, the weight of my body settling into the familiar rhythm of the game. The sluggishness from earlier has dissipated after Coach very kindly put the fear of God in me.
A glance at the breakdown, and I’m on it.
The ball is being cleared from the ruck, and I can see the opposition break through the centre.
I react instinctively, charging forward, closing the gap between us with the aggressive pace I’ve been craving all week.
I throw my shoulder into the tackle, timing it perfectly as my body crashes into his.
We slam to the ground with a satisfying thud that pulls the first honest smile out of me all match.
The ball shifts in his grasp, my hand already reaching for it, but before I can get a firm grip, the ruck forms around us.
I shift my weight, planting my feet into the damp ground.
Jelani, our number nine scrum half, calls for the ball, and I’m already there, shoving into the ruck.
I bend low, my hands working quickly to secure the ball as my heart rate continues to climb with the adrenaline.
Digging my feet into the turf, I drive through the pile, and just like that, it’s mine.
I’m jackaling now, ripping the ball free from the mess of bodies, waiting for Jelani’s subtle tell. I glance up—this is it. He throws a quick pass, sending the ball clean into my hands, and I’m off again, charging down the sidelines, my legs pumping as sweat drips down my temples.
The defence comes at me fast, but I don’t hesitate, slamming into the closest tackler.
I lower my body, my arms pumping to push through the hit.
I feel the sting of the collision in my legs, but it doesn’t slow me down.
I power forwards a few more metres, just enough for my teammates to get into position.
A quick offload, right into the hands of my flanker, and it’s another break in play. I suck in a ragged breath, shaking off the impact and setting up behind Jelani again, ready to crash in for support when he needs me.
The game’s fast now, the tempo picking up, but I remain in control. My body no longer feels like lead weights; my mind is focused for the first time all week.
I have too much to lose.
I catch the eye of our number eight, Trey, as the ball is passed out to the backline. He shoots me a wink, and I know what’s coming next.
Following the play, I remain tight with the forwards, pushing to maintain the structure. Another ruck, another breakdown, and I’m in it again, unable to stop. I won’t lose my momentum.
I can barely hear the roars of the crowd over the walls I’ve built in my mind for this exact reason. No distractions. My world narrows to the game in front of me—the energy, the tackles, the support of my teammates.
When the ball comes back to me, I’m ready again. This is how it’s supposed to be. Fluid. Constant. Relentless. It’s me, the game, and my team. Nothing is stopping us, not even my anxiety.
The match comes to a close in a few more plays, securing the Wyvern Warriors the final win of our season, and my first finals win of my pro rugby career.
I'm bloody elated. Thrilled. Excitement and joy thrum through my veins, and a smile so wide it makes my cheeks hurt stretches across my face.
My teammates are cheering, shouting, and hugging, slapping one another on the back. Jelani sprints towards me, grabbing my cheeks and pressing a sloppy kiss to my forehead.
“You were bloody incredible, love! Your first pro season, even as a dinosaur of a rookie, and you killed it!”
His approval and happiness send me soaring to new heights, but there’s just one person’s approval I desire.
My gaze lifts to the stands, where I find Adhira, eyes pinned on mine.
The tension coiled through my muscles eases, the boulders weighing me down falling away with the relief of the win and the knowledge that Adhira is still here and not puking her guts out on a bathroom floor.
And then she jumps to her feet, cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting my name.
She waves her arms over her head, wearing the most intensely breathtaking smile I've ever seen, and it's like it cures me of an ailment I didn’t even know I’d been living with.
I feel free and light and so goddamn worthy.
It's a feeling unlike any other. And I bloody thrive off it.
Rafael claps me on the shoulder, and I barely manage to tear my gaze from Adhira.
“You did bloody phenomenal, mate!” Trey shouts through the roar of the crowd, ruffling my hair as he jogs by. I'm overwhelmed with praise and hugs from my teammates, each show of their affection solidifying my place on this team.
“Elliott, can I have a minute?” Coach Auclair asks, calling me over the same way he did on Wednesday, and my hackles rise. I feel good about my performance. I don’t want anything he says to change that.
“Of course, Coach,” I say, jogging over to the sidelines. He greets me with a massive smile spread across his tanned, weathered cheeks.
He grips me tightly by the shoulders, wringing my body out with his strong hands. “I don’t know what was going on earlier today, but you absolutely killed it out there. Your mother is going to be unbelievably proud,” he says, beaming.
My smile must falter because he drops his hands to his sides, his expression morphing into a concerned scowl. “Is everything alright?”
I clear my throat, scratching at my sweaty neck.
If he were anyone else, I wouldn’t tell him this.
I'd brush it off as nerves. But it's Coach Auclair, and I know he'll understand better than most. “My mum called to let me know she had a breast biopsy the other day, and we’re still waiting on the results. Her GP is pretty confident it’s benign, but it’s been hard to clear my head since then.”
He sucks in a breath, and suddenly, his arms are wrapped around my body, pulling me in for a hug. I let out an airy laugh, though it’s hard to breathe with his grip so tight.
“You did damn well today, Elijah. You pulled yourself together, and that’s something to celebrate.” He releases me, and I drag in a few pulls of the humid air. “Now go wash your sweaty arse and do something fun.”
“Yes, Coach,” I answer, prepared to do just that when he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Please keep me posted about your mum’s results, if she doesn’t mind, okay?” he asks, his earnest blue eyes boring into me.
“I will. Thank you, Coach. For everything.”
I owe this man my entire career, and I’m determined not to let him down.