Page 9 of Every Move You Make

When we get through the rest of the introductions, I take a seat next to one of our props, Casshole (real name Cassie), a white, masc lesbian with dark hair cropped close to her head. She’s one of our quieter players, and most people find her intimidating, but she’s actually a total sweetheart.

“Is that for our trainer?” I ask, peering over her shoulder and watching her edit a workout video.

She finally looks up at me. “Yeah. Thanks again for introducing me to him. I’ve seriously seen such an improvement in my core strength.”

A couple of our other teammates see him too. “He’s growing quite the collection of rugby players.”

“If I were him, I’d be advertising that he trains Olympians.”

I chuckle. “You and I both know he’s not lacking in his marketing game.”

Before Casshole can reply, Coach walks into the room. Laura Casey is slim and white, with strawberry blonde hair that’s almost always in a tight bun. She played rugby in college like most of us, but picked up coaching after retiring from Premier League about ten years back.

“Good afternoon everyone,” she says, coming front and center to address us. Leaning against the table, she crosses her legs and folds her hands in her lap. Her usual upbeat attitude is mysteriously missing. She swallows. “I hope you all had a nice break and were able to recover from any minor injuries. I’d like to welcome Hannah to the team,” she says, nodding over to the rookie with a wan smile. “Normally, I’d be ready to get into this season right away with all of you, but there’s been a change of plans. As many of you know, my wife Bridget has been suffering from migraines for the better part of this last year. It got so bad, she was hospitalized a couple weeks ago.”

Oh my god! I didn’t know about that.

Coach continues, her face turned down as she takes a deep breath, but it does nothing to help the crack in her voice. “They found a malignant tumor in her brain.” There’s an audible gasp and murmuring across the room in response and I’m certain all of our hearts have stopped beating. “She’s been diagnosed with stage four cancer. Andeffectively immediately, I will be resigning as head coach to take care of her full time.”

Before I can form another thought, I push out of my chair and round the table to hug her. A chorus of chairs scraping across the carpeted floor and falling over follows suit. We’re soon surrounded by the entire team, all of us wishing this wasn’t happening.

Laura has been more than a coach to us. She’s been our friend. She’s been our mother. She’s been our rock. I can’t imagine playing for anyone else.

Eventually, everyone gets back in their seats, and she continues. “Assistant Coach Wallace will step up as head coach until USA Valor hires a replacement. In the meantime, I’d encourage you all to put your feelers out in case you know anyone who might be interested.”

I look over at our assistant coach and interrupt. “You don’t want to be head coach?”

Bob’s a white guy in his mid-sixties with a bald head and an addiction to sunflower seeds. “I was planning on retiring next year,” he says with a shrug. “No sense in taking that position just for them to hire someone new again next year.”

Laura cuts in. “Bob will help your new coach transition, but I expect each and every one of you to give the new coach your full attention, just the way you have with me and Bob. The USA Valor have come too far in recent years to let it all go back. It feels like we’re finally seeing this sport grow in America, and I’ll be damned if I see that slip away. So keep your heads on straight and stay focused.”

“I’d prefer to keep my head on gay,” Khaos interrupts, because she’s Khaos and gets away with everything.

Miraculously, that gives Laura the first smile we’ve seen today.

After the coaches left the team meeting, us veteran players stayed behind to form a social media plan. I have the most followers by far, a combined total of about five million, so after talking with the team’s social media manager, she approved me making the announcement with the team's to follow. I posted about finding a new head coach beforeI left the training facility, and by the time I got home after my workout, it had forty-three thousand likes.

After a quick dinner, I had a long phone call with my dad about the announcement. It went about the same as I thought it would. He dug into me.

Be the best and make a great first impression.Establish your presence but be willing to listen. Show them why you deserve your title as captain.

It’s impossible not to get tired of this same old spiel. He’s been doing this for years. Both of my parents have. He’s ruthless about my athleticism and leadership, while Mom is ruthless about my appearance and brand.

I love them, I do, and I probably wouldn’t be where I am today without them, but could they trust that I know what I’m doing? I’m twenty-eight, my whole prefrontal cortex is developed, and all I do is eat, sleep, and breathe rugby.

That, and read romance, usually something of the unhinged or sporty variety.

After a relaxing shower, I don my oversizedBridgertonT-shirt and slip into bed for an early night watching my favorite show. My Kindle is fully charged with a new dark romcom queued up so I can dig in the minute my show is over. With slimy under-eye masks pressed on, I settle in and press play. As the intro starts, I check my phone again.

TheGymBreaux has liked your post.

That makes me smile. Dell Breaux’s online presence is how most people know him, but I met him long before his socials blew up.

Chapter 4

Cupid's Arrow

Robyn

---