I held the air in my lungs until my eyes stopped burning. “It’s fine.”
“Teddy-bear,” she said. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
I pressed my thumb into the seam of my leggings, needing to feel pressure somewhere. “It’s just how he is.”
“I know, but you know I’m here for you, still, always.”
Something inside me loosened, and I ranted about everything that had happened. The dam well and truly broke as I spilled all the drama about the shared stadium, being around Connor again, feeling like the expectation might swallow me whole some days and I still needed to show up and do the damn thing. The season hadn’t even started, and I was feeling burned out already.
“I’m going to tell you what I told you when you first picked up a rugby ball all those years ago, Teddy.”
I wiped the heel of my hand under my eye, even though no tears had fallen. “What’s that?”
“That you don’t have to earn your right to take up space.” She didn’t waver. “Not on a pitch. Or in a room full of journalists. Not next to that boy who gets under your skin. And certainly not with your father.”
My throat tightened.
“You deserve that space because you show up.” She continued. “You work harder than anyone I’ve ever known. But you forget that you’re allowed to need things too. To rest, to breathe, to be supported. You don’t have to prove your worth every second you’re awake, my darling.”
Sometimes it felt like I did, but I didn’t voice that. She already knew.
“You’re going to be incredible for your team, you know how I know that? Because you’ve got fire, Teddy. Just don’t forget that even fires go out if they aren’t tended to.”
She’d said some version of that a hundred times growing up, after bad games, bad grades, stupid boys, but this time, I knew she was right. I needed to make sure that I was taking care of me too. Some days, that flame she loved about me was dim, and I wasn’t about to let it go out completely. I just needed to figure out the balance before the full season started.
I closed my eyes, letting her voice wash over the edges of the pressure that had been growing inside for the last few weeks. “I wish you were here.”
“I’ll always pick up the phone, no matter the time.”
A small smile tugged at my mouth. “I know.”
“Good. Now go make sure you listen to me. I’m old and wise, remember?”
We both laughed, and when the call ended, I pushed my shoulders back and felt renewed of energy for today.
Coach needed me this afternoon. So, by the time I got to her office, she was in full logistics mode, which meant three coffees deep and chewing gum aggressively. Pure hyper fixation.
“Hey,” I said, sitting into the chair across from her. “Please tell me I’m not in trouble. Unless it’s trouble with an all-expenses-paid vacation somewhere I don’t have to be Captain Sloane for a day.”
“Not quite,” she said, cracking a smile. “Though I did tweak your schedule for tomorrow.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Define tweak.”
“You’re off-site for the morning. PR needs you to go to a sponsorship shoot.”
My hope wilted like spinach in a hot pan. “So, not a bubble bath and an audiobook?”
“Not unless the audiobook is sponsored by Buzz; you know the energy drink company? They’re interested in a season-long partnership and want to meet the face of the Valkyries.”
“Just me?”
“And Connor.”
Right. Of course. Because for some absolutely baffling reason, we were becoming a two-for-one deal, and it hadn’t even been two weeks. Buy one stubborn captain, get the other at half price. I knew there’d be press, sure. I even expected a few grip-and-grin photos for the preseason promo stuff. But this? This felt like the PR version of a shotgun wedding. How many campaigns did our management have planned? I didn’t want to ask.
Coach must’ve seen the exact moment my soul attempted to crawl out of my body, because she softened. “It’s a good opportunity, Teddy. These partnerships bring attention, and attention brings growth. We’ve got momentum, but we need to keep the buzz going. Pun intended.”
In not so many words, she was telling me to play nice in order to be rewarded. Something I’d been doing with increasing frequency lately, though I wasn’t sure anyone appreciated just how much restraint it took. I wasn’t unreasonable—I was actuallyveryreasonable within the clearly outlined limits of my patience. The problem was that ever since the quake, nothing had gone to plan. Schedules were chaos, expectations had tripled, and my fuse had been slowly shrinking by the hour. So yeah, maybe I’d been saltier than usual. But I wasn’t proud of it. I just hadn’t figured out how to hold everything without occasionally letting something snap.
