Page 4 of Resilient Love

I roll my eyes at that. “Don’t act as if it’s some hardship.” Sex is the only time I can afford to feel anything besides the constant weight of loss. Sure, I might’ve let go of the resentment I used to carry around, but it doesn’t mean it’s not impossible to miss the two people I once counted on most. Without them here, focusing solely on my career is a necessary evil to ensure my success.

Bending forward, I double-knot my trainers. “Alright, let yourselves out, I’m gonna be late.” I catch sight of the alarm clock on my nightstand. “Again,” I groan, heading out with a noncommittal wave in their direction.

“The French,always rushing everywhere,” Noah chides as I sprint down the steps.

I slam the door shut behind me, bolting down the rickety wooden porch steps and to my rideshare. I slide into the backseat, introduce myself, and luckily, he gets the hint that I’m in a hurry.

The drive doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes, and the moment he’s slowed down enough that I won’t get killed, I fling myself from the car, sprinting to the locker room to throw my things down and rush out toward the field.

“I’m here!” I shout, sprinting past the water bottles lined up on the edge of the turf. I expect to see my teammates already stretching, getting ready for our first official practice with our new coach, but that isn’t what I find at all.

My team is huddled together, staring at the field as I approach. I catch sight of the familiar blue streaks running through one of my best friend’s hair and immediately steer in her direction. “What are we all looking—” The words get caught in my throat, my mouth running dry.

Chelsea makes no move to face me as she breathes the words,“Rugby players.”As if that answers all of the questions suddenly racing through my head.

My eyes zero in on the massive men on the field, each of them in a different position as they stretch out their colossal, toned thighs.Jesus Christ,I’d pay to be crushed between a set of those things.

Some of the men are utilising resistance bands while others have their asses in the air, stretching their legs. Several of them are wearing what Chelsea refers to as “hoochie daddy shorts.” The number of strange terms Americans use will never cease to amaze me, but this time, the phrase feels rather fitting.

Another familiar face catches my eye, and I see the broad smile belonging to my father stretch across his wrinkling face as he waves at me.

“What the hell is a professional rugby team, myfather’steam, doing at our school?” I question anyone within earshot.

“Not a clue, but I can’t say I’m not enjoying the view,” Adhira comments dryly.

“Are you back on your poetry kick, or did that rhyme come out by accident?” Chelsea asks, snickering beside me.

“That time, it was an accident. My comment still stands.”

“Can’t say I disagree,” Ruby, another one of our teammates, comments.

“Alright, men, practice is over. Get off my kid’s pitch.”

I groan, unease rippling through me as he draws unwanted attention to me.

The men stand, heading past my drooling teammates as they take us in, wiggling their brows and sending winks in every direction.

All except one of them.My father’s team captain.

The giant standing beside my father is facing us with his hands on his hips, unwavering as his gaze sweeps over us slowly. My dad claps him on the back before jogging toward the locker rooms, averting his gaze as he rushes past me.

I don’t have time to go after him before Rafael Romero-Castillo opens his sexy mouth to speak the words that are bound to wreck the rest of our season.

“Listen up, ladies, I’m Rafael, and I’ll be your interim coach for the remainder of the season. I know this might come as a shock to some of you, but prior to playing rugby, I actually camehereon a football scholarship.” We all watch him with rapt attention.How could we not?

“And you think because you played soccer over a decade ago that you’re qualified to coach us?” Chelsea challenges from beside me, her arms crossed over her small chest.

“No.” He shakes his head, his shoulders rigid, jaw set in a sharp line. “I don’t think I’m even a little qualified for this job, butmycoach is making me do this because apparently withoutme,none ofyouwould even have a coach this season. So, how about we all work together to get through this season and make the most of this?” he chides sarcastically, not looking hopeful. Wow.Isn’t he delightful?

We each look to one another before levelling him with a stare. “Fine,” I tell him. At that, each of us makes our way onto the field, ignoring his sceptical expression.

What he doesn’t realise is that we’ve all been playing together for long enough to know what the other is thinking without having to speak about it. And luckily for him, we’ve decided on a silent truce.For now.

CHAPTER THREE

FRIDAY, MARCH 21

Well,shit.

---