Page 12 of Resilient Love

I push it down, trying to focus. But with every missed call and half-hearted push, it’s like I'm losing more ground. I was supposed to be the one running the show here, the one making the game go my way. Instead, I’m second-guessing myself, thinking too much. I can’t even get my timing right on the lineout; every throw feels like it’s just a step behind.

And then, just as quickly as it came, the frustration hits a new level. Elise’s perfect pass flashes in my mind again, how it made me feel alive in a way I haven’t in ages. But I’m not supposed to care about that right now. This is my game, my pitch. I can’t afford to be distracted.

I dig in, trying to push myself back into it, but I’m still fighting the fatigue, fighting the memories of that damn football match, and it’s all bleeding into the way I’m playing. My legs are heavy. I’m not where I need to be. And I can’t shake the feeling that it’s all slipping away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MONDAY, MARCH 31

I stepinto Coach’s office, per his request. “Take a seat, and tell me how things are going with my daughter’s team,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

I groan. “I don't think they like me.” Not that I've given them any reason to. I should try harder. Iwantto try harder, but the way my heart seizes every time I see that damn ball and I’m reminded of the dream I stole from my brother, I can't muster anything more than a grimace and the occasional nod of approval. I don't say any of that though. “They play well. Hell, they’re fantastic, but they can’t stand me, and I'm not sure what the best way to navigate that situation is.”

“Oh, I'm aware.” He smirks at me. “Elise may have mentioned something about you being the biggest wanker of the century.” He chuckles.

My eyes snap up to meet his, and I realise for the first time that they’re the same blue as Elise’s.You don’t exactly spend a whole lot of time gazing into Coach’s eyes, dickhead. Of course, you wouldn’t have noticed.And I certainly shouldn’t be doing it with his daughter either. He’s goading me because unless Elise really hammered into me over the last week and a half, all she’d told him the night at the club was that I’m an asshole, which isn’t wrong. Judging by her apparent inability to open up, even to her father, I’m betting she hasn’t broached the subject further.

“Don’t worry,” he tells me, dropping his legs from the lip of his desk and leaning forward onto his elbows. “I have a plan.”

“Great, I’d love to hear it,” I grumble, hoping anything he says will make my life easier somehow. Knowing him, it'll be a cluster fuck instead. Heisthe reason I'm in this situation in the first place.

“We'll have a team-building day. You and Elise can combine practices and pair up. One rugger to one footballer. Hopefully, by the end of it, everyone will be a bit more relaxed and get to see you’ve removed that stick you’ve got wedged up your arse.”

Prick.Like father, like daughter. “I see where your daughter gets hercharmingpersonality,” I tell him, and his brow quirks.

“Elise is many things, and frankly, charming isn’t one of them. But I never taught her to becharming.I taught her to be kind and compassionate in her personal life yet ruthless and unyielding on the field. If you have a problem with that, well, I don’t know what to tell you because nothing’s going to change her, nor would I want it to.” Kind and compassionate? I think he may have missed the mark with that goal, but I wouldn’t dare tellhimthat.

“How exactly is this team-building assignment going to work?” I ask, confused and frustrated.

“You and Elise, since you’re both team captains, will be paired together, and maybe after my daughter kicks your ass in a match, you’ll be humbled and she’ll be happy enough to tell the team to stop giving you such a hard time,” he says, smiling smugly.

They haven’t even made this transition all that difficult. If I’m being honest with myself, the hardest part has been keeping my eyes where they’re meant to be and not all over Elise. That and the emotions it's dredging up and at the worst time of year for it. The upcoming fundraiser for people living with spinal cord injuries is both a blessing and a never-ending curse that always acts as an unnecessary reminder of how much I’ve fucked up. “Sounds lovely,” I say, sarcasm tinging the words, as I stand, dragging my ass out of his office.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 2

I’m still tryingto blink away the fuzziness in my eyes as I make it out of the locker room and onto the field. Most of my teammates are already out there with the Wyvern Warriors, Dad’s team.

When I got the email about this little morale building field day, I wasn’t thrilled, but I know that getting along with our coach will only help my team, and if this is what we need to do, we will. I would do just about anything for these women, and my dad has never steered me wrong, even if his methodsareless than conventional.

Over the last three years, my teammates have become my extended family, and as someone who grew up with a sisterand was suddenly thrust into the life of a pseudo-only child, that’s meant more to me than I can properly express. More than I’dcareto express considering I’m not always great at communicating all of the big feelings I carry around with me. My therapist has always said it’s the nature of the beast that is bipolar 1 disorder, but I can’t help but believe I’m just emotionally stunted from a sudden loss that left me feeling empty for so many years. Now, I almost wish the emptiness would return so I’m not forced to be swallowed by the heavy weight of stress, anxiety, and regret.

“Elise!” Chelsea shouts, waving me down to where she’s stretching with Adhira and Letty.

I jog over to them with a wide smile plastered on my face, one that I know doesn’t meet my eyes.I’m exhausted.Too exhausted to explain what’s going on in my head, so a fake smile is the better alternative.

Chelsea waggles her blonde brows at me suggestively. “You didn’t come home last night—must’ve been having a lot of fun with Leo and Noah again, huh?”

I smirk, unwilling to admit what I wasactuallydoing last night. Running until I couldn’t breathe. Collapsing into a heap of frustration and longing. Wallowing in my misery and calling my therapist for an emergency session that lifted a tenth of the weight I’d been carrying, but I’ll welcome any reprieve. So instead, I mask my emotions, like I’ve become so accustomed to doing over the years. “I don’t kiss and tell,” I say with a wink for her benefit.

Adhira meets my gaze with a tight-lipped expression, and a chill skates down my spine. I swear, she sees right through my nonsense, and something tells me it’s because she does the same things I do to protect my sanity.

Letty pats the turf beside her arse, motioning for me to take a seat.

We chat and stretch for the next several minutes as the rest of the players make it out onto the field.

My neck tingles with awareness, and when I look over my shoulder, I see Rafael heading my way, his eyes burning holes into my skin.

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