The Player and the Pixie(103)

I glanced over at the sideline, spotting her immediately due in large part to her rainbow hair. Other than Eilish, I’d never had anyone cheer for me specifically. It was an odd sensation, made me feel as though my performance on the field mattered more, because she was invested in my success.

With renewed determination, I ignored procedure and led the front row, Cain Masey recovering the ball from Ronan’s team after an almost-friendly maul. Since the teams were comprised of several non-professionals and retired players, the general tone seemed affable. Punches were pulled and there was plenty of encouragement all around.

And so the match progressed . . . for a time.

Until I had my first possession.

As soon as the ball was in my grasp, Ronan broke position and rushed forward. He tackled low and hard, knocking the wind from my lungs even though I’d braced for impact. I fell to the ground, mindful of my rucking position and prepared to hand the ball off despite my gasping state.

However, there’s a reason ruck rhymed with fuck. Because a ruck is where you’re most likely to get fucked up.

Oftentimes, especially when three gigantic rugby players are piled on top of your back, attempting to roll you over in an effort to achieve a turn over, you’d receive all manner of abuse. Punches, bites, pinches, hair pulls—all par for the course. Especially if there wasn’t a referee.

Ronan was the bloke immediately on top of me. His fist connected with my eye in a purposeful movement, though he paired it with an “Oops.”

Several kidney punches, elbows to the sternum and ribs, and a knee under my jaw later, the ruck was over. I’d successfully saved the ball. Bryan had scooped it up and, through my one good eye, I saw him run toward the makeshift goal with no opposition in his way. This was because, though they were supposed to be limited to three, almost every player on Ronan’s team was still on top of me.

“All right, all right,” William called just as I felt a second impact under my jaw. “Get off him. You’ve just lost a score.”

“Did we?” John O’Mar’s cheeky response came. “I thought Sean still had the ball.”

“You did not, you great arsehole,” William laughed. Ronan kneed me in my ribs as he stood, then “accidentally” trod on my hand.

“Oh fucking hell,” I grumbled, holding my fingers close to my chest as I was freed from the pile.

“Oh shut it, you big baby.”

I squinted through one eye and found Ronan standing over me, offering his hand, a small, satisfied smile on his face. When I didn’t accept his offer at once he reached down and pulled me up.

Standing in front of him, I flexed my fingers. “Feel better?” I asked, working my jaw and finding it sore, but not broken. I’d bitten the inside of my cheek, though I couldn’t tell if the blood dripping down my chin was from my nose or my mouth.

“Yes.” Ronan nodded, patting me on the shoulder with a solemn kind of affection. “Ready to have another go?”

I spat blood on the ground and wiped at my nose. “Absolutely—”

“Absolutely not.”

Both Ronan and I turned to find Lucy running out to the field, her expression thunderous. “What on earth do you think you’re doing, Ronan? What the hell was that? He’s bleeding from every orifice. Satisfied?”

Ronan shrugged, fighting a grin. “Not every orifice.”

Lucy tut-tutted at him and punched him in the stomach. She was strong, but he was clearly prepared for her assault as it affected him not at all.

“Christ, Luce. We’re rugby players. This is what we do.”

“Really? Twelve men in a ruck?” Her soft hands were moving over my face with gentle, probing movements and her brow was wrinkled with concern. “Jesus, Sean. You’re all busted up.”

I smelled her—her perfume, her scent. There’s just something about getting the shit beaten out of you that gets your blood pumping. If I could have taken her on the field right then, I would have.

I wanted to.

I grew hard at the thought, understanding why ancient marauders were exhibitionists after violent raids.

Meanwhile, Ronan crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s had worse. Come on, Luce. You’re holding up the match.”

Lucy fitted her hand through my arm and led me away, calling over her shoulder, “Well you’re just going to have to play without Sean.”

“You going to do that, Cassidy? Be led away by your woman?” I heard Bryan Leech taunt from someplace behind me.

“You bet I am,” I responded immediately, drawing chuckles from my teammates who’d gathered to watch the sibling standoff.

“Smart man,” someone said. It sounded like Ronan, but I couldn’t be sure.