His feet drag, heavy, like he’s carrying the weight of something more than just the game. The weight ofme.
He’s right. He can’t be my only support system. I know he’s drowning in his thoughts, still waiting to hear back about his mum’s results, but he’s been home a lot more often, making sure he’s available to help me with anything I need and messing with his routine. He’s said almost as much.
I can’t be another person for him to worry about when he already has his mum and sisters.
The first tackler hits him low, his shoulder jamming into Elijah’s ribs, and I feel the impact in my own body, a painful pull in my chest and a twisting of my guts.
Elijah loses his balance, and instead of popping up or correcting, he stumbles, his knees buckling just enough to slow him down.
He grits his teeth, jaw set hard as he pushes himself to his feet, but his movements are laboured.
He shakes himself out at the end of the play, squirting water in his mouth and over his head before tossing the bottle and getting back into position.
Wherever he’s taking himself mentally seems to be working. He covers a ton of ground, jackaling the opposing team and successfully tackling the offence several times as the match continues. My pulse slows with every minute that he carries himself the same way as he has in every other game he’s played.
Iwould know, being that I’ve hidden in my room, watching as much of his game tape from the last few years as I’ve been able to get my hands on.
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’smine.
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 worldnarrows 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.
