Chapter 1
Dylan
“It’syourlastdayyyyy!”
I groan as a pillow lands on my arm. Opening one eye, I glance at the clock. It’s two minutes before my alarm usually goes off. Those precious final two minutes of sleep have been callously ripped away from me. Somebody clearly has a death wish.
“Two more minutes! Why are you waking me up early?” I open the other eye to glare at Kat, my roommate, who has apparently dared to wake me. I’m not sure whether she’s brave or stupid.
“Because I’m going to miss you, and two more minutes of your precious time seemed like a good idea!” She’s practically bouncing off the walls, already fully dressed in her practice gear.
“Wow, Kat. What time did you wake up this morning? And how much caffeine have you had already?”
“I got up at 3 so I could finish my assignment,” she shrugs, her words spilling out of her mouth a mile a minute. “And I had a couple of double espressos. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why? Am I acting weird?”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Not for you, I suppose. But if you were anyone else, I’d send you off somewhere to be evaluated.”
Another pillow sails through the air and bops me on the head. Sighing, and resigned to my fate, I tug off my covers and push myself off the bed. “I’m not going to miss these spontaneous early wake-up calls, you know!” I jut out my lower lip and glance at her sideways. “But I sure as hell am going to miss you.”
The sun’s first rays break over the horizon as I finish lacing up my cleats. The chill of the morning air snaps at my cheeks like the sting of a rubber band, but I welcome it as part of my pre-practice ritual. Stepping onto the pitch, the grass crunches under my feet, still glazed with dew.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the earthy scent of soil and new growth. It’s my favorite part of the day. I’m an early bird by nature—provided my alarm gets to go off when it’s scheduled to, and some sick demon doesn’t rob me of my precious last few minutes. I’m drawn to the peace this time of day gives me, far before most of the world has even thought about waking up. Taking a sip from my thermos, I savor the taste of freshly brewed coffee. I may be an early bird, but I’m not a monster. I need caffeine like everyone else, just not as much as my roommate. Nobody needs that much, including her.
The stands sit empty around me, but I can hear the cheers and the chanting as if they were packed with fans eager to watch us get dirty. This field is my second home—the neatly lined white chalk, the precisely manicured grass. They’re all as familiar to me as my own living room, and I’m a hell of a lot better at keeping things in order out here on the field.
As I start my warm-up drills, I reflect on the journey that brought me here. Rugby has always been my true north, guiding me through the twists and turns of young adulthood. While friends were out partying, I was training. While they were sleeping in, I was conditioning. The discipline required to excel at this sport has undoubtedly shaped me as a person. It’s almost like a religion to me at this point. So, as much as I’m going to miss this place, when I got the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a professional career out of rugby at club level, I jumped at the chance.
My teammates start to trickle onto the field, breaking my thoughts. We exchange eager grins and focused nods—no words are needed to convey the anticipation we all feel. We know why we’re here and what we have to do.
Kat gives me a playful smack on the shoulder as she jogs past. “Let’s do this, Cap.” I didn’t even see her get to the field, even though we had the same starting point. She must have flown here on a rocket ship powered by caffeine.
I clench my fists, my adrenaline starting to flow. No matter how many games I play, this feeling never gets old. This team is my family, and this field is my sanctuary. Still, most good things must come to an end.
I grin at Kat’s enthusiasm. She’s been my right-hand woman on this team for years, a fierce competitor who leaves everything on the pitch. Her hit last week was one for the highlight reels. I’m going to miss her don’t-give-a-shit attitude, and her dedication to her team that leaves her willing to throw her body down for the sake of winning. She basically single-handedly keeps our team’s physical therapists in business. As well as the entire coffee industry.
More teammates arrive, our pre-practice rituals blending into a symphony of preparation. Stretches, drills, focused breaths—we flow through our routines with easy familiarity.
I make eye contact with each player, reading their game faces. Johnson looks cool and collected, eager to put her speed to work. Ali has that intense gleam in her eyes that spells trouble for our opponents. Lopez ties her hair up, her jaw set with quiet determination. It might only be a practice, but it’s our last session before one of our biggest games of the season. And I know in everyone’s mind it’s kind of my send-off, too. They want to do me proud before I go.
An unexpected surge of emotion passes through me. This mix of personalities, playing styles and strengths is what makes us unstoppable. We’ve put in the work to get our teamwork down to an art. Now it’s almost time to reap the rewards, and it’s bittersweet having to leave before seeing everything come to fruition. Still, professional club rugby is calling, and I need to answer.
Coach gathers us into a huddle, his gravelly voice rumbling through a familiar pep talk. I let his words wash over me, the sentiment imprinting itself on my psyche. We are impenetrable. We are unbreakable. We are one. And I can’t believe this is our last time all together as a team. I can’t believe I’m leaving them.
We break apart, hyped up and hungry for the practice game. I take my position on the pitch, my toes digging into the turf. The ref’s whistle pierces the air and we explode into motion. Despite not many people, including my family, understanding it, this is what I live for.
Chapter 2
Dylan
Theclatterofplatesand chatter of teammates fills the Irish pub as I slide into the worn wooden booth. Elbows knock and feet tangle under the table, already laden with steaming mugs of tea, plates piled high with sausage and eggs, as laughter bubbles over like the froth on Lily’s cappuccino.
“Dyl, pass the ketchup,” Jess says, her grin as cheeky as ever. She nudges me under the table with a sneakered foot. “Or what do you kiwis call it, Liv? T sauce?”
I toss Jess the bottle with a wink, while Liv nods excitedly.
“Careful, Jess, or you’ll get it on that brand new jersey of yours. How much did that cost you, anyway? Like two hundred bucks?” Official rugby jerseys can be a complete rip-off, but Jess knows we’re all not-so-secretly envious of her extensive collection, so she’s okay about us giving her a hard time.
She snorts. “Please, I could sauce up my entire uniform and still look better than you out on the field.”