“Unqualified,” Nate said flatly, not even looking up.
“That’s rude,” Jake replied. “Also, untrue. I have as much experience as any of you.”
Bobby laughed, the sound easy, familiar. “You bite every single time, man.”
Their bickering slid back into place like muscle memory, and the quiet certainty settled again.
My grandad had worn the captain’s armband in his career for a long time. A different country, a different era, but in the end, it was all the same. For a long time, I’d thought legacy meant following his path. Proving something. Carrying his name forward like a debt I owed.
Sitting here now, listening to Jake argue his imaginary qualifications and Nate refuse to rise to it, I understood it differently. Legacy was what you needed it to be.
Whatever this next year brought—pressure, change, uncertainty—I wouldn’t be facing it alone. None of us would. And for the first time, that felt like I was finally doing right by him.
47
Teddy
Micah was playing the best friend role in full force today.
Not only did she quiz me with a billion questions about seeing my dad—what he was like, how long he was staying, whether he really looked like me—and then announced that she’d decided she absolutely needed to meet him, all before my morning coffee. She was now standing at the edge of the rugby pitch with her arms folded, my stopwatch dangling from her fingers like a threat, insisting that I cut my cardio session short.
Can’t a girl just catch a break and continue with her regularly scheduled life? God forbid, my life returned to normal.
I slowed at the end of the pitch, chest heaving as I reached the try line, sweat slicking down my spine. “I’m not done,” I said, hands braced on my hips as I turned back toward her. “I still have two laps left.”
She didn’t even pretend to consider it. “You’re done enough,” she replied, already turning on her heel. “Can you come with me for a second?”
There was something in her tone that had my irritation flickering into suspicion. I glanced back at the length of the pitch, then at her retreating back. “Micah,” I warned, grabbing my water bottle, “if this is another ambush about my dad—”
“It’s not,” she said as she waved for me to follow. “Just… trust me.”
Micah never cut training short without a reason, and she never smiled like that unless she knew something I didn’t.
“Where are we going?” I asked, jogging a few steps to keep up, calves already protesting at the sudden stop-start.
She cut toward the tunnel, the cool AC air hitting my skin as we went inside. “Locker room.”
“For what?” I shot back, but she was already pushing the door open.
Micah crossed straight to the bench, grabbed a towel, and pressed it into my hands.
“Splash some water on your face, please.”
I stared at her. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re flushed, and I need you not to be.”
My muscles were twitching, quivering even, because I didn’t like vague answers. The desire to flee rumbled through my head down to my toes, but I didn’t think Micah would appreciate the cardio of trying to catch me. So I leaned over the sink, cold water cutting through the heat clinging to my skin.
When I was done, she nodded and turned on her heels. “Let’s go.”
We walked the length of the building in silence, past the gym, Coach’s office, and the hallways felt endless. My pulse thundered in my ears the closer we got to the end, and when we stopped in front of the large conference room at the end of the hall, my stomach dropped.
The glass panels were opaque, but I knew that room. I’d stood in it with Connor months ago, shoulder to shoulder, camerasflashing as we announced the stadium share. Nothing had been the same since then. Me and Connor, for one, were… whatever we were. Instead of being at each other’s throats, we were regularly in each other’s beds.
My team was strong and top of the table, in a league still finding its footing. Women’s rugby in the US didn’t have dynasties yet—just hungry teams, short seasons, and a brutal points race where consistency mattered more than reputation. And we were driving forward toward that final win.
My feet slowed as we approached the door. Then they stopped altogether, like my body had made the decision ahead of me. I had no clue what was beyond that door and my palms were slick. “Micah.”
