Chapter 1
Logan
Wellthisisgoingto be…different. As I take in the hodgepodge of men spread across the pitch below, I do my best not to wrinkle my nose. I’m no stranger to being the new guy on a team, but I can’t say I’ve ever joined a rugby team with quite this level of…
“Chaos,” I murmur. I’m rethinking all my decisions.
Behind me, the team’s owner, Cole Evanson, laughs as if I’ve told some great joke. His focus is on his computer, but I’m sure he’s aware of what’s happening on the pitch. “It’s the first day of a new season. Give them a bit to settle in.”
I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that the blokes below haven’t been practicing for the last several months. I expected rugby in the States to be more casual than back home in Australia, but this feels downright negligent. It’s no wonder the US never wins the Cup. If this is how seriously they take the game—unseriously, in this case—it’s a miracle they win matches at all.
I lean closer to the glass of Evanson’s office window, watching as a player lifts his teammate in the air in what I can only assume is an attempted lineout lift, but as the bloke he’s lifting is twice his size, the two of them end up in a heap on the turf while several around them laugh.
I don’t see what’s so entertaining. One of them is going to get hurt before the season even starts.
“Sorry about that,” Evanson says, getting up and joining me at the window. “When I bought the Thunder, I didn’t realize how much paperwork there would be, and it keeps sneaking up on me.”
I didn’t pay much attention to the owner when I first arrived at the LA Thunder practice facilities a few minutes ago, more interested in studying my new teammates as they showed up. But now that he has my attention, I’m surprised to see how young he is. I’d wager he hasn’t hit thirty, and his build suggests he only recently stopped playing on the pitch. I should have done more research before I signed the contract, but his likely experience is a positive sign.
“You played?” I ask to confirm my suspicion.
Evanson smiles. “Until right before the championship last year, yeah. My priorities have shifted, and most days I’m at home with my son so my wife can be here. She’s the team’s rehab specialist. But the Thunder will always be my team.”
At least I can say choosing this team in particular wasn’t a bad idea. If the owner was one of us, he’s not going to do the team dirty. “How’d you end up owning a team?” I ask next.
“Luck and solid investments. Why’d you choose to play here, of all places?” He folds his arms, giving me a searching look thattells me he’s not a fool and expects honesty. A good trait in an owner, I reckon, but more likely than not he won’t be around much. I’m more concerned about the coach and his dynamic with the team.
Based on the mess down on the pitch, I worry the dynamic is as chaotic as this practice is starting out.
I shrug, turning my gaze back to the pitch. It’s not like I have anything to hide, but I don’t need anyone knowing my business. “Something new.”
“We’re a big step down from the Australian National Team. You sure you know what you signed up for?”
He’s really asking if I got sold down the river and booted, but no. I chose to leave. “Rugby is growing in the States,” I say, as if he doesn’t already know. “The Wallabies agreed to take me back after this season.” It’s the only reason I felt okay about the hiatus.
“And we can’t convince you to sign on for more than one season?” Evanson asks. I can practically feel his stare.
I shake my head. “Sorry, mate, but it’s one season or nothing. I can go find another—”
“We’d be glad to have you for however long we can,” he says, cutting me off before I can threaten to choose another team. Good, because I don’t want to do that. Based on my information, Los Angeles is exactly where I want to be. “I’m just making sure you weren’t expecting another couple of zeros on your paychecks.” Again he gives me that searching look, but there’s something amused about it. Enough to get me to crack a smile when I look at him.
“I’m well aware of what I’ll be paid,” I say with a roll of my eyes. I’d be a drongo to not know I’m taking a ninety percent pay cut to play here in the States. “Not expecting half a mil. I’m fine with my 20k.” For now, anyway. As soon as I can, I’ll be back to my real team and a solid paycheck.
Evanson’s jaw tightens. “Great. Well, I can take you down to meet the team, if you’re sure you don’t want to back out. I haven’t told anyone you signed, just in case.”
Smart. That would be quite the blow, to think they’d have someone of my caliber only to lose the chance. My eyes catch on half a dozen men doing poses fromThe Karate Kidwhile the others break into actual warmups, and I frown. One of the lads balancing on one foot pushes the bloke next to him, and all of them topple into each other.
I hold back a groan. At least the Thunder will need me. “You’re telling me this team won a Grand Final last year?”
“Championship.” Evanson smirks. “Yes. Like I said, give them a few days to settle in, and they’ll surprise you.”
With the way they’re behaving, we’ll be lucky if we win a single match.
I follow Evanson to the door, bracing myself for what are sure to be heaps of different reactions to finding out I’m playing with the Thunder this year, but he stops with his hand on the doorknob and looks back at me, his expression hard. “I know what you’re used to, Logan,” he says, keeping each word calm and controlled. “You’re coming from an incredible team and a lot of discipline. But those guys down there, for all their antics, are a family. I don’t expect you to treat them like your bestfriends, but I expect you to show them respect. They work hard to be a part of this team.”
The only reason I won’t show them respect is if they do something to lose it, but I don’t say that out loud. I’m not here to make friends. If I didn’t need a way to keep my skills honed while I’m away from my real team, I wouldn’t be here at all.
My phone sits heavy in my pocket with texts from my parents, making sure I’ve settled in and wishing me luck.
