She stares up at me, steel lining her warm toffee gaze. “Yes.”
“You wound me.”
“Something tells me you’ll get over it.” A challenge, a glimpse of the Jade I met that night.
“Oh, I highly doubt that.” I pitch my voice lower. “Since I’ve thought of nothing else but you since that night.”
My brazenness stuns her silent for only a minute. “Goodbye, Mr. Stone.”
Her tone of annoyance makes me smile from ear to ear. A real smile this time. “Later, boss.”
As I walk out to the center of the field where some of my teammates are gathered, the telltale signs of anxiety start to creep in and sit heavy on my shoulders.
Yesterday was easier to cope with. On our first day back, we spent half the day doing a team workout to build endurance and see where everyone is at post break. It’s the best way for Ballard to see who maintained their fitness regimes during downtime. Anyone who hadn’t was forced into punishing drills that resulted in more than a couple men getting sick on the grass.
The second half of the day was spent in meetings, talking about the upcoming season and setting expectations for playing as well as behaviour on and off the pitch.
Now that all the formality was out of the way, we’ll be practicing—running plays and strategizing. The thing I’m meant to be able to do seamlessly, instinctively. The skill I’m paid a lot of money to perform and haven’t been able to for the better part of a year.
Coach calls out for our attention, snapping me back into the present. “Listen up. Yesterday, I was being nice by giving you a warm up to ease back into the season?—”
“That was his warm up?” Amari Ashford, the team's right prop, whispers as some of the other men groan their agreement.
“If you’d been diligent with your training, you wouldn’t have spewed your breakfast all over the pitch yesterday after a few practice drills,” Cavan chides, face immovable.
“Ach! Some of us like to have fun in our free time, old man.” Cav rolls his eyes as he drops into a forward lunge, warming up his muscles.
“And you’re paying for it now. Listen,” I command, trying to focus their attention back on Ballard.
“Last year didn’t go as we had hoped.” It feels like dozens of eyes home in on me, watching…waitingfor a reaction. A familiar surge of anxiety laps at my ankles. “However, that doesn’t mean we can’t come back from it. Show them why we’re called Legends.” Ballard nods at me to take over. “Captain.”
He yields the pitch, and now Iknowevery eye is on me. Shaking the stiffness out of my shoulders, I hold my headhigh and look at each and every one of my guys—starting with the two closest to me, my best mates. Myles smiles, and Cavan gives me a barely perceptible nod of encouragement, a grim set to his mouth. I haven’t spoken to either of them about how muddled my head feels, not wanting to put my cross on their backs, but I suspect Cav knows. There’s something about the special powers a dad has that gives him the ability to sense I’ve been faking all my perceived confidence. But I’ve been extra careful to give Myles nothing to worry about while he’s been dealing with whatever is happening with his mum. He has a particular talent for trying to problem solve on behalf of the people he loves, and I’d be damned if I added one more thing to his already full plate. I could get my shite together—I have to.
“Alright, boys,” I give a hearty clap, plastering a megawatt smile on my face. “Last season was a bit of a blunder, but it’s a new year. We’ll train harder than before, focus on our weaknesses, turn them into strengths, and absolutely bludgeon our opponents. If there’s anything affecting you out on the pitch, or even at home, you can come to me, and we’ll find a solution together. Now get out on the grass and tear it up!” The words feel like a false promise as they leave my mouth.
The resounding chorus of exuberant hollering reverberates around me as we all start to bounce on our feet, a thrill racing through the air around us.
We run through sequence after sequence of warm up drills, focusing on getting our limbs and ligaments loosened up to mitigate any potential strains or injuries.
We’re finishing off the first hour of training with hip rocks when I feel another set of eyes on me, searing honey with a pocket of staggering blue.
I sit back on my heels, sweat dripping down my face, forcing me to lift my shirt to wipe it out of my eyes. When I drop my hand, my eyes immediately connect with Jade’s.
Focused. Severe. Calculating.Magnetic.
“She looks like she’s got a stick up her arse,” one of the younger guys on the team says.
“Bet I could loosen her up. I’d start by unzipping that tight skirt and then–”
I stand and grab Connor by the neck of his kit, anger lighting up my spine. “Shut it, Davies, and have some respect for her position.”
“Oh, I do. Believe me.” His words are cocky and filled with innuendo. “I respect her position to beunderme.” He looks around him to see how many guys are laughing with him, and the fact that it’s more than a couple makes me sick to my stomach.
I release Connor’s shirt with an aggressive push. “Listen up!”
Coach Ballard looks on curiously but doesn’t say anything as the guys huddle around me. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen closely. Legends donotdisrespect women. We are not those kinds of men, and we do not enable those kinds of men. If I hear one more comment that doesn’t treat Ms. McKallen with the regard someone in her position deserves, you will answer to me. And trust me when I say, it will be far more unpleasant than the drills coach has us run or Darcey’s ugly mug. I shouldn’t have to even say this. Do you understand me?”
The team shouts their agreement and scatters, getting into position to run plays for the next several hours.
