Page 18 of There is No Try

CHAPTER 9

LUCAS

ONE MONTH LATER

The league, my club, and Irish immigration were all satisfied with our marriage license. I’ve loved Bridget for too long to put on a pretend wedding and she insisted we only go through a civil ceremony with the two of us… and Gavin, of course. Once the season is over, I’ll speak my vows in front of the rest of our family and friends, giving her the wedding she deserves.

It’s my first match of the season and I’m both excited and nervous. Seven minutes in, Murphy is out on a yellow card, Gibson is a fucking beast, and we’ve been flirting with the try line twice already. The only thing missing is Bridget and Gav watching. He has his match today and I’m distracted wondering how he’s doing.

It’s wet and windy, more than any of us expected, and as soon as the ball’s on the floor, it’s hard to control. Our defence is missing tackles, sliding on the wet pitch. It’s going to be a long fucking match. Thankfully, after a steady scrum, Williams sneaks away and slips through a gap, completely untouched for the second try of the match.

Our luck runs out and the rest of the match is bloody miserable as the wind picks up and light rain whips in our faces. With only four minutes left and up thirty to fifteen, I allow myself to slow down. As Will would say, “I’m getting too old for this shit.” My body isn’t what it used to be, and I’m now wondering how the hell I’ll play for another year. The thought of two more seasons feels excessive at the moment. It’s best to reserve what little energy I have left, especially since I have Bridget all to myself tonight.

Unfortunately, slowing down also leads to mistakes. The slippery pitch has been a host for injuries today. I’m tossed to the ground by their blindside flanker—aptly named at the moment—and my ankle twists. It doesn’t feel broken, but I won’t be able to walk on it for a while.

The medics help me off the pitch and I’m able to get in with the team doctor quickly. After a quick assessment, she’s confirmed it’s a severe sprain, not broken. I breathe a sigh of relief, but only for a moment. It’ll take weeks to heal, benching me for a good portion of the season. I’ll need physical therapy, and all I can hope is I won’t be released from my contract. Or worse, sent back to Brisbane in a trade. I’ve worked too hard to stay here with Bridget for it to be taken away because of a bloody ankle sprain.

I’m packing my bag in the changing room, about to call Bridget, when I notice texts from a contact I should’ve blocked ages ago.

James

Saw what happened.

Are you all right?

I miss you.

James was part of the reason I was so eager to leave Brisbane. I was in love with him. We were living together and I saw myself spending the rest of my life with him… until he fucked my mate. My heart shattered into a million pieces. Moving to the other side of the world felt like the best way to lick my wounds.

And then I met Bridget.

The love I have for my wife is a million times stronger than anything I felt for James. Part of me wants to be petty and reply with something that will hurt him. Thumbs poised to type, I resist. There’s no point in making his life more miserable than it already is.

When I began group therapy, I kept to myself for the most part. Many of the various sports leagues have required therapy of their players and I was merely checking a box by attending. As I became comfortable with Ronan, Russ, and Will, I eventually opened up to them about the break up and betrayal. My mates became more like brothers, supportive and accepting. Time healed my broken heart, but therapy helped me work through the anger and hurt. I smile at the progress I’ve made since meeting them.

“Someone must be feeling better,” Bridget jests, startling me. I drop my phone and it skitters across the floor. She picks it up and does a double take before holding it out to me. “Who’s James?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” I defend, despite how it makes me sound incredibly guilty. “He’s my ex, but I swear to you, I thought I blocked him.”

Bridget chews on her lip and asks, “James, the one who cheated on you? You’re still talking to him?”

“Come here.” She sighs, cautiously closing the distance until she’s standing between my legs. I grip her hips to guide her the last few inches, refusing to let go. “Check the thread. When was the last time I spoke to him? Check my call records if you need. I’m yours, pup. Only yours.”

She clicks a button on the side of my phone to darken the screen. “I believe you. I’m sorry if I sounded jealous or suspicious, it’s just…” Her eyes close, pain marring her features as she shakes her head.

“No. Bridget, look at me.” She does, and her eyes are glassy. It rips at my soul. “Your heart is so fucking beautiful. You trust me with it, making me the luckiest man in the world. I don’t take that for granted and I’d never do anything to hurt you. If you think for one moment I’d dare to talk to or evenlookat another person, when I have the most incredible one I’ve ever known right in front of me, then it’s me who should be apologising. I hate that you have a shred of doubt.” I take the phone from her and properly block his number.

“Luc,” she sighs, resting her hands on my shoulders. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do. I thought I already had. I wasn’t smiling at the text when you came in, I was thinking about how I’ve grown over the past few years while in therapy with my mates.”

Bridget’s lip tilts on one side. “If you hadn’t met my brother in therapy, I wouldn’t be your wife.”

“Beginning therapy with them was the best decision of my life, other than marrying you.” I set my phone aside and pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her. “The staff shouldn’t allowmy gorgeous wife in here when everyone else is gone. It’s too tempting to rip off your jeans and?—”

“I’m not letting you fuck me in the changing room, Luc.” She laughs and it’s the lightest I’ve felt since she walked in.

“Fair enough. Where’s Gavin? How was the match?”

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