Micah turned with interest. “What about him?”
Delany hesitated, then went for it. “That Ireland’s been circling again. Nothing official, but interest. Conversations are happening.”
My blood ran cold. Ireland?
Lola let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s interesting.”
I kept my face neutral, lifting my drink like this was just another piece of rugby gossip, even as my thoughts snagged. Ireland was big. Far. I wasn’t going to confront him; that wasn’t my place. His career was the most important thing here, not me. I understood that, even if I forgot it for a second. This was simply hooking up, something temporary to pass the time.
I was fine.
When I looked up again, his attention snagged on me immediately. His brow was drawn, a faint crease between his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago. I pulled in a slow breath through my nose and set my shoulders, gaining some of my typical composure, the mask I wear as captain. Whatever flicker of emotion he’d caught, I erased it.
I took a measured sip of my beer, then turned my focus back to the table, to Micah, to the noise and easy rhythm of my team.
Whatever Connor needed to do for his career was his decision.
And I wasn’t going to be the thing that made it complicated.
38
Connor
Coach closed his laptop and looked at me. “You’re serious about this.”
“I am,” I said. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
He leaned back in his chair. “It’s a big commitment.”
“I know,” I replied, but I was set on this. “That’s why it matters. I just need someone I trust to understand my decision. Or tell me I’m making the wrong one.”
That was enough. He nodded once, slowly. “Then you have my support, whatever you need.”
I left his office with the sense I’d just nudged a door open that couldn’t be shut again. Whatever came next wouldn’t be small, and it definitely wouldn’t be simple. But I wanted it.
The sound of training hit me as soon as I pushed through the doors to the pitch. Bobby had taken over and was yelling at the lads. We still had games left, though we were on a thin line to be in the playoffs. Still, we had a season to finish, even though it was moving fast. There were only a handful of games left.
Whatever I’d brought into that room with Coach could wait. Out here, leadership was simple. Show up. Work hard. Finish what you start.
“Hey, Cap,” Nate said. “Do you think I could ask Coach Emery about my sister? She’s declaring for next season, and I’d like her to be close, if I can.”
I didn’t know much about his sister, but if it was important to Nate, it was to me too. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. You need me to come with?”
“Maybe.” He nodded. “I’m seeing her after this.”
I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “Then I’ll be there.”
Nate let out a breath like he’d been holding it in. “Thanks, Cap.”
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. “Of course.”
Bobby blew the final whistle, and the lads slowed, hands on hips, sweat streaking down their faces. “Good work,” Bobby barked, which for him was practically glowing praise. “Ice, stretch, and get the hell off my pitch.”
“Your pitch, huh?” I mused, crossing my arms over my chest.
Bobby smirked. “Mine when Cap is busy.”
I waited for Nate, when my phone buzzed.
