“All of them,” I said, though there was no bitterness in my tone, just the truth of it. “He doesn’t really agree with my career choice. Natalie was the one who believed in me enough to pursue this.”
He hummed softly beside me, his hand finding purchase on my knee. “Was Natalie the one who took you to your first rugby game?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling faintly. “She drove me to every training session, every match. Yelled louder than anyone else on the sideline.”
“That’s good,” he said, mouth lifting. “Everyone should have someone like that.”
I tipped my head toward him, wanting to know more about him, too. “Did you?”
A sheepish smile crossed his face as he glanced down at his hand resting on my leg. “My whole family. My grandad, especially.”
“The famous Daniel O’Riley?” I remembered him; he was a legend in Irish rugby.
“The very one,” Connor said, but his smile faltered. “It’s a lot of pressure, though, to live up to him.”
“And you feel like you have to?” I asked, wondering how long he’d been holding on to that pressure of expectation.
“When your last name is already written into sport, it’s hard not to feel like you’re supposed to carry it forward.” His gaze lifted back to mine then, and I saw the honesty in his eyes, the emotion tied to his family too.
“But you’re doing that.”
Connor shook his head, a small huff leaving him. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying not to be the one who drops it.”
I frowned at that. “You’re the captain of your team. You’ve already built something that’s yours.”
“Is it really mine?”
I tried to understand how someone who was so confident, on and off the pitch, could still carry doubt like that. It peeled back another layer of him.
“Your grandad might’ve opened the door, but you’re the one walking through it. You make choices, lead the team, and take the next steps in your career. No one else can do that for you.”
He watched me closely, his dark eyes assessing, thinking. There was something going on up there I didn’t know yet. “You’re right,” he said. “That’s exactly what you’re doing. Someday, someone will be saying Teddy Sloane was the legend they want to live up to.”
I laughed in my throat. “Imagine that.”
“It’s gonna happen, sunshine.”
The TV kept playing, but neither of us looked at it anymore.
I could blame it on gravity, the way my body curled into his, the way my head came to rest above his steady, calming heartbeat. But it wasn’t. It was a choice when his arm moved around me, pulling me closer. It was a choice when I stayed.
I remember thinking, vaguely, that this should be strange. Connor, me, doing what we did. The fact that we’d spent so long at odds with one another. And somehow, it didn’t. We weren’t those people anymore. We had grown up, and this was nice, having someone here. I didn’t want to untangle myself for once, so I didn’t.
30
Connor
I stayed still for a long moment. Moving right now would break something perfectly quiet.
There wasn’t much light, save for the glow of the TV and the moonlight creeping across the wooden floors.
Her head was tucked into the curve of my shoulder, warm beneath my jaw, the slow rise and fall of her breathing brushing faintly against my collar. One arm lay curved across my middle, fingers lax, the press of her thigh hooked over mine, and I never wanted to move.
Carefully, I angled my head just enough to look down at her. Teddy’s face was relaxed in rest, lines smoothed away, lashes dark against her cheeks. She looked younger like this. Lighter. Like the world hadn’t asked anything of her. Not everyone got to see her like this, unguarded and peaceful. She was just Teddy. The fact that she’d fallen asleep on me, like it was easy, wasn’t something I’d planned on taking lightly.
I’d never been so happy to be nap trapped.
She sighed, long and quiet, and her cheek pressed more firmly into my chest like she was chasing warmth without waking fully. I stayed exactly where I was, my arms around her, barely breathing, acutely aware of every spot where we touched.
