“If you need anything just let me know. I can help with whatever. I help a lot of our guys with nutrition plans, going over tape, anything really…” I trail off, tucking my hands into the pockets of my athletic shorts when he gives me a look that says he doesn’t give a shit.
“Noted. We done here? I need to be on the pitch,” he says sharply.
I shrug. “Yeah, sure. Have a good practice. Good luck.”
Without another glance, he walks out the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
Well… okay then.
Nice talking to you too.
I knew that the first practice as a team would be rough, but I may have underestimated just how rough it wouldactuallybe.
Still, I choose to remain hopeful even though a disaster is currently unfolding on the pitch. It’s like watching a train wreck, in ultraslow motion, that you just can’t stop staring at no matter how bad it is. The tension is palpable and there’s zero cohesion. Zero teamwork. They’re practically ignoring him entirely. It’s clear that the guys aren’t making an effort to pass the ball to Cillian, regardless of him being a major playmaker.
“There might as well be a line drawn in the grass between them,” Dad murmurs from beside me, clutching his clipboard so tightly his knuckles have turned white, a dramatic contrast to the shade of crimson his face currently is. He’s the kind of man who doesn’t get angry or upset and yell. No, he’s the quiet kind. A simmering pot that continues to bubble until it finally boils over,burning everyone within reach. To me that’s even more intimidating than someone who’s constantly losing their shit.
I nod in agreement, my eyes trained on the obvious root of the problem. “They don’t trust him, Dad. And you know they’ll never be able to work together if they can’t trust each other.”
He sighs loudly as he pulls his hand down his face before turning to look at me. “I know. I just… The kid’s a damn good player and I know he has potential. I can see it in him.”
I look back to the pitch and watch as Cillian manages to get the ball, despite how badly his teammates are attempting to keep him from doing so. It’s not exactly subtle. The way they’re passing the ball around and purposely making sure Cillian is on the outside of the play. Hence Dad stressing about the situation even more than before he saw them together on the pitch.
I grew up on the touchlines of my dad’s pitch. I fell in love with rugby when I was just a little girl and have spent all my life immersed in the sport by his side. The perks of him being a single dad with a toddler. I’ve seen hundreds of games, twice as many practices, and countless incredible players.
But the kind of talent that Cillian Cairney possesses isn’t something you see every day, and I know that’s exactly why my dad brought him here.
I can see it in his movements, fluid and graceful in a way that could only be natural talent. He’s powerful and quick as he runs down the pitch, acting on pure instinct.
That instinct is what has made some of the greatest rugby players of all time…great.
“What do you think? Do you think him being here is going to hurt the team?” Dad asks, breaking through my thoughts.
I keep my eyes trained on the guys, taking a second to mull over his question as if it’s not the same one I’ve been asking myself since I found out Cillian was joining the team.
And honestly? I still don’t know the answer.
He’s clearly a skilled player, but he’s unpredictable, and his temper is a liability, so I don’t know what’s going to happen from here.
“I think… that it’s only the first day and that’s a simple question with a really complicated answer,” I say, reaching out to place my hand on his arm. “And I think that you’re the best rugby coach I’ve ever met. Your intuition is always spot on. But one thing I do know for certain is that unless we can somehow get them to trust each other and communicate, then this is never going to work.”
“Yeah, I know it’s the first day, Rory, but I didn’t expectthismuch tension. I’ve gotta figure out a way to get them working together. Fast.” He grimaces.
For a second, I’m quiet as I shuffle around the idea that’s popped into my head. It might be a complete waste of time, but then again, we have to try something, and there’s no time to waste. “Okay, I think Imighthave an idea. Do you trust me?”
He chuckles softly. “You know there’s no one I trust more than you, sweetheart.”
This could be fun. Or a disaster. Or maybe a fun… disaster?
But there’s only one way to find out.
CHAPTER 3
Cillian
Thank you all for coming in so early today,” Rory St. James says with a saccharine smile as she stands at the front of the conference room holding a clipboard in her arms.
Shit, it’s too damn early to be here, especially sitting in front of the human equivalent of sunshine. Most of us are still half asleep and she’s bright-eyed and peppy as if it’s not still 6:30 in the morning.
