“Bigger than I thought it would.”
“Same.”
There’s a pause. “Are we ready for this?” I ask, not because I don’t think we are, but because I need to hear him say it.
He turns his head slightly toward me. “We don’t have to get it perfect,” he says quietly. “We just have to be honest.”
I nod. That I can do.
We step into the living room together. Theo and Isla are sitting on the floor now, legs crossed, something spread out between them that I don’t quite catch, both of them looking up as we come in, like they’ve been waiting for us without even realising it. There’s a moment where everything stills slightly. They both look between us. And I can feel my heart pick up, not in panic, not in fear, but in that strange, fragile way that comes when something matters more than you expected it to.
Theo is the one who breaks it. “So…” he says, looking between me and Rory, his brows pulling together slightly like he’s trying to piece something together in his head. “Does that mean Isla is like my sister?”
The question lands softly. But it carries everything. I don’t answer straight away. Because I can feel how important it is. And this isn’t just mine to answer. I glance at Rory who looks back at me with not an ounce of hesitation. And in that look, there’s no hesitation. He steps slightly forward, not taking over, not speaking for me, just… standing beside me properly.
“If that’s what you both want,” he says, his voice calm and steady.
Theo turns to Isla. Isla looks back at him.
“Do you want that?” Theo asks.
Isla shrugs slightly, but there’s a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah,” she says. “Do you?”
Theo nods, like it’s the simplest decision in the world. “Yeah.”
I feel Rory’s hand brush lightly against mine like a silent acknowledgement of what just happened. I look down at Theo and Isla, already back to whatever they were doing, like they’ve accepted something huge without needing to make it complicated. And it hits me, slowly but surely, that maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated. Maybe it can just be this.
Chapter sixty-five
Rory
There’s a different kind of energy on championship day. It starts before you even get there, sitting just under your skin, a low, steady buzz that builds with every mile closer to the ground, every message from the lads, every reminder of what’s at stake, and usually I lean into it, let it take over, let it sharpen everything until there’s nothing else in my head but the game. But today it’s… different. Because for the first time, it’s not just about what’s happening on the pitch. It’s about who’s watching.
I pull into the car park and sit there for a second, hands still on the wheel, the stadium already alive around me, people moving in every direction, voices everywhere, that familiar hum of anticipation that always settles into my bones. And underneath all of that I’m thinking about Freya. About her being here with Theo and Isla. About the fact that this isn’t just my world anymore. It’s ours. That thought settles in properly as I grab my bag and step out of the car, the noise hitting me fully now, louder, sharper, the kind of atmosphere that usually flips a switch in me. And it still does. Just not in the same way.
Inside, the lads are already filtering through, music blaring, someone shouting about something, the usual chaos, but there’s an extra edge to it today, something tighter, more focused.
“Here he is,” Noah calls as I walk in. “Thought you’d bottled it.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’ve done,” I mutter, dropping my bag onto the bench.
Scott looks up from where he’s taping his wrists, a smirk already in place. “You look suspiciously chipper for someone about to play the biggest game of the season.”
“Shut up.”
“Where are they?” Noah asks, appearing beside me.
“Who?”
“Don’t be thick.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “They’ll be here soon.”
That earns me a look. “You’re gone,” he says, shaking his head. “Proper gone.”
I don’t even argue. Because fuck, I am.
By the time I head up toward the supporters’ area before warm-up, the place is already packed, the stands filling quickly, noise building in waves, that electric kind of atmosphere that makes everything feel bigger, louder, more intense. And then I spot them. Freya is standing slightly to one side, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders, one hand holding Theo’s, the other resting lightly on Isla’s back like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Hannah is beside her, talking animatedly, probably already giving her commentary on everything she can see. And for a second Everything else fades. I don’t even realise I’ve stopped walking until Noah bumps into my shoulder.
