“Minimal crossover,” she said.
“Except when we’re both playing games on the same day…” And I knew there was going to be a few, considering our season schedule is almost identical.
She didn’t falter, though. “Yeah, those four clash weekends? Two of them are already confirmed for off-site venues.”
My head reared back. What the hell? “Off-site where?”
“For you,” she clarified, then turned her screen toward me. “We locked in our home fixtures. It was easier to keep ours than yours. You got bumped, like, thirty minutes ago.”
I blinked at her screen in disbelief, seeing mostly Valkyries set up for home games. “Seriously?”
She nodded without apology. “Talk to your management.”
A muscle jumped in my jaw and made my teeth grind, that unfamiliar heat when I was around her was returning with a vengeance, only I wasn’t sure it was her fault. “Right. Becauseclearly the solution to one ruined stadium is to give the Valkyries everything.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake.
She looked up, nostrils flaring. “We didn’ttakeanything. It’s our facilities, our brand-new-for-this-season facilities, and you need help. This is the help, O’Riley. Take it or leave it.”
When everything was up in the air, even the smallest push felt like a shove. If I wasn’t so hell-bent on dragging us through this with some shred of dignity as captain, I’d consider calling it and begging management to figure something else out. The odds were not in our favor. But if I quit, what the hell would that say to the rest of them? I resolved my earlier thoughts and knew I had to step up.
“I know,” I said, though my voice scraped lower than I intend. “It just… feels like we’re being pushed out.”
“You’re not,” she said simply. “You’re being accommodated.”
My jaw was working overtime today, and I huffed a noise that definitely should have stayed inside.
She finally looked up, eyes flashing. The intensity hit me harder than I expected, catching me off balance. I met her glare with one of my own. “You think I asked for this? You think I want my first season as captain to be shared withyou?” She spewed the words so familiarly.
“No,” I snapped back. “But it’s a lot easier to stay on top when the system’s already built around you.”
“Let me tell you something, Connor.Nothingabout being a woman in sports is built around me. This very situation included.” Her chest started to heave. “We fight for space, for funding, for respect, for this building. Every damn day. And then we have an inch of space to breathe, we have to prove we belong. Over and over. And if we show even a second of weakness? We’re fed to the wolves. Not a single thing about this is easy for myteam, but I work damn hard to make sure they see who cares about them. So, don’t give me that shit.”
I didn’t say anything at first, I couldn’t. Because she was right. I’d never had to think about that kind of fight. Not really. The closest I remembered was my sister played in college years before me and she had nowhere to go after, no career path because she was a woman. Suddenly, the privilege of being a male in a male-dominated sport felt like something I’d never considered before, and it was an ugly realization. I’d grown up watching my granddad’s highlight reels, was told since I was a toddler that the game owed me nothing, but in truth, it had given me everything. Access. Exposure. Respect I hadn’t even earned yet. Maybe that was why working for it with her felt so new.
Meanwhile, she’d been out here clawing for the same ground I’d been handed at birth.
And I’d just thrown it in her face.
The guilt was a solid weight in my chest—unpleasant and deserved. For the first time, I had to face how insulated my world had been. How much I’d mistaken hard work for hardship.
She was still breathing roughly, fire in her eyes, but the only thought in my mind was how goddamn small I felt.
There wasn’t a damn thing I could say that would be enough. But I couldn’t stay silent.
I exhaled roughly through my nose. “Look, I’m not blaming you, and I’m definitely not trying to make you feel like you don’t deserve the stadium you have. But my team just lost their pitch, their training structure, and all their gear. They’re trying to hold it together with what I can provide them as their leader, and every time I turn around, something else is off-limits.”
She didn’t blink. “Then help them by adapting. Not by resenting what help you’re given.”
Her words hit harder than they should. Probably because they were true and sounded so similar to what my grandad said to me growing up.Don’t forget a good player plays, a great player adapts.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I willed myself to think of something useful to appeal to her kinder side I’d only seen once or twice during college. Rare, but I knew it existed. The most memorable time was when we’d spent all night studying in the library—opposite ends, of course—but there was a storm tearing through campus. Before I complained about forgetting my coat, she shoved her umbrella over both our heads with a grumbled, “You’ll get sick, you idiot.” We’d walked to my dorm in silence, rain splattering above our shared cover. Then the next morning, she was right back to snapping at me in class.
The sting of her words still settled. It wasn’t easy, watching everything fall apart. But maybe she was right. Maybe leading them meant figuring out a new way forward—even if it wasn’t the way I wanted.
I’ve always had people in my corner. Coaches who made calls during my college career. Teammates who followed my lead. A last name that got me in rooms before I’d earned the right to be there. The option to go international if I wanted it. And that was its own mess. I’ve had multiple scouts at my games, talks with my agent that I’ve tried to downplay. My grandad wanted me to be proud and excited, but I only ever felt overwhelmed by the pressure of trying to live up to his name. Playing for Ireland was his dream—was most players' dream—but for me, it meant more than I wanted to give. I didn’t want to live abroad, or to carry on his legacy. If I was doubting it, I certainly didn’t deserve to be wearing the jersey with O’Riley for Ireland. I’d built my whole life here, my career, my team, and I didn’t want a future for myself I hadn’t chosen or worked for.
Maybe that was another reason why this conversation with Teddy mattered so much to me. Because no matter how many doors my name opened, building something real and important with my guys felt like the only thing I’d earned onmyterms. They needed me right here and now.
This was the first time I’d felt completely out of my depth and still expected to deliver. No amount of O’Riley last name leverage is going to help me here, and she fucking knew it as much as I did.
