Page 76 of Dump Tackle My Heart
The Rovers start to grin, low chuckles rumbling like thunder. Koa actually fist-bumps Tank.
Someone mutters, “Savage.”
Finley exhales like she’s been holding her breath since kickoff.
“Crisis averted,” she whispers.
Mitchell straightens his cuffs and glances at Tank, then back at me.
“I trust you two will continue to conduct yourselves professionally. But Ms. McNally? If anyone else attempts to disrespect you or my team like that, you come to me. Understood?”
I nod, still stunned.
“Understood.”
Mitchell tips his head once.
“Good. Now go win this match. Give America something to love even more than#SnowedInWithARover.”
The Rovers cheer, the haka energy flipping instantly into game day hype.
Tank squeezes my hand.
“You okay, Sweetheart?” he murmurs.
I look up at him—this demigod rugby warrior, standing in the middle of his brothers, eyes still hot from defending me—and something in my chest unclenches.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “For the first time all day, I think I am.”
CHAPTER 25-TANK
Southern Tour USARugby Winter Tournament:Carolina Rovers vs. Houston Longhorns
Score tied. Final fifteen minutes.
Everything is on the line.
The indoor stadium must have its AC running because I swear, I feel a blast of air whip across the pitch, cold as hell. But I barely acknowledge it.
My blood's hot.
Heart pounding.
Muscles coiled, ready to snap.
I’m in position—backer. One of the hardest hitters on the team.
My job? Protect the ball, destroy the opposition’s momentum, and create the kind of brutal space that makes magic possible.
No glory, no headlines.
Just pure, punishing impact.
The hitman behind every highlight reel.
But right now? My eyes keep drifting.
To the sidelines.
