But also, now I’m fucking grinning at Rory, and she’s smiling at me so sweet that I wanna scoop her off the couch and carry her to her bedroom and pretend the whole world isn’t burning down.
“I have an idea. But… we’re going to need some help,” Fitz says slowly.
My brow lifts. “What do you have in mind?”
CHAPTER 33
Rory
Everyone, be strong. Remember, his bark is way worse than his bite. Right, Michaels?” Hollis mumbles in a hushed whisper from beside Wren, and I have to cover my mouth in order to stop my giggle from bursting free.
Wren nods, feigning a way too nonchalant shrug, “Yeah, for sure. Totally.” I watch his throat bob in a swallow as he looks around nervously. He glances down at me with wide eyes. “Fuck that. Rory, I’m scared.Holdme.”
“Jesus, Wren, where the fuck are your balls. We do not have time for this right now.Get. It. Together,” Fitz whisper yells as he shoulders his way between the both of them. “Look, this is going to work, and if it doesn’t then you know what… we pivot. Always fucking pivot. We do whatever we have to do to make sure that Cillian stays, right?”
Great, now I’m going to cry.
My heart flutters as my eyes burn with unshed tears taking in the scene in front of me. When Fitz said he had an idea, I trulyhad no clue what it would be. I’d already spent the entire night racking my brain over and over trying to figure out what we could do to prove Cillian’s innocence. And came up completely blank. I felt totally useless and helpless at the same time.
Turns out the idea Fitz has was the least complicated of all the things I thought of, and yet somehow the most important. The most impactful.
He texted everyone on the team and told them to rally for Cillian. To show up at my dad’s office and all vouch for the newest member of the team. Demand a retest. Do whatever it takes to keep him on the team.
And even if that failed, which there was a huge possibility that it would, Cillian would still see how many people love and care about him. How his teammateswanthim here. That they will go to bat for him even after the rocky start.
Most of all, he gets to see these guys show up as his family. And know that no matter what, they’ll be here.
Everyone from the team showed up. Aside from Ezra and Brooks. It makes me sad and disappointed, but I don’t have the time or energy to focus on the people who didn’t show up. Instead, I’m going to focus on the ones who did.
Cillian’s hand slips into mine, giving me a tight, reassuring squeeze. So much comfort in a single touch, when really I should be the one comforting him. He’s steadfast and strong not only for me but also Aisling. The team.
I want to be the same for him.
The door of the athletic building bursts open and my dad steps out, his hands shoved in his pants pockets, eyes roving over the crowd of his waiting players. “What’s going on?” When he seesme standing with the guys, his expression shifts slightly, confusion marring his face.
Fitz steps forward with his chin raised and a flare of determination in his eyes. I’ve never been prouder of my best friend than I am at this moment.
“Coach, we’re here today because we want to stand with Cillian. He says he’s not on drugs, and we all believe him. I know what the test said. We all do. And we all think it’s wrong. That there has to be an explanation. It’s a false positive, or a faulty test, something. You’ve always told us to have each other’s backs and stand together, no matter what. That our team is more than just rugby, that we’re a family. That means more now than it ever has. He’s part of our family, and we have to fight for him.”
Even if I wanted to stop the tears from falling, I couldn’t. I am so incredibly proud to be a part of this family. For these guys to be my best friends.
“We’re not leaving. Not till you agree to retest Cillian. To investigate whatever is going on. Even if we have to run. Even if you have to bench us. Right, guys?” Fitz says loudly, looking around at his teammates. I watch as they all nod, a sea of agreement passing between them. “Cillian is one of us.”
I can hardly breathe while waiting for Dad to speak. To say anything at all.
Silence permeates the air, heavy and tense, and for a full torturous minute, he says nothing. Not a single word. He just drags his gaze over his players, jaw working, hands still stuffed into the pockets of his slacks.
“Shit,” I hear Wren whisper, furthering my panic.
“Guys,” Dad starts, finally, freaking finally speaking. “I’mtouched by this show of support for Cillian. Truly, I am. All I have wanted from the moment that he got here was for him to be a part of this team. A part of our family. So seeing this today has touched me in a way that I’ve never experienced in all the years that I’ve coached rugby. It speaks volumes for your loyalty and respect for him. I appreciate it, and I wish that it would change the outcome. My hands are tied. I’m sorry. I truly am.”
My heart sinks. All the way to the floor.
I knew this was a possibility; I knew there was a chance our presence would make no difference.
But I was wholly unprepared for how badly it would actually hurt.
“I’m sorry,” Dad repeats, his voice low and full of remorse.
