Page 129 of Scrum Heat

“It’s the smell of emotional maturity and extreme cardio, boys,” Theo calls back. “Try to keep up.”

Finn lands on his feet and immediately tries to bow. Rory groans under his breath while Theo smacks the back of his head.

Coach yells for the reset.

We move back to position, and I find myself glancing toward Frankie again. She doesn’t say anything—just lifts the camera slightly, tilts her head, and gives me the smallest nod.

Ayes, without speaking.

Ayou're good. I see you. I feel you.

And I do.

I feelallof it.

Rory’s steadiness pressing through the bond. Theo’s cocky chaos vibrating at the edges. And Finn’s wild, infectious joy that makes you want to grin through the bruises.

Then there’s Frankie, at the center of it all: watching, waiting, and claiming us in her quiet way.

We’re not just training anymore—we’re becoming something bigger than the game. And for the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m trying to hold the line.

Iamthe line.

And they’re running it with me.

*

I can’t sleep.

It’s the kind of late where even the floorboards are tired. The house is silent, thick with the low pulse of bonded scent and settled instinct, but no matter how hard I try… I can’t settle. I never really can after days like this. There’s too much adrenaline in the bloodstream, too much weight on the mind.

Training wasgood. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be to face Denton Vale, and I’d go as far to say we have a good shot of kicking their asses and heading straight into the finals. The team’s tighter than ever this season, and our pack of four might be newly established, but we’re solid as can be and a force to be reckoned with.

Still, it’s not just rugby that’s on my mind. The threat of the OSC hangs over us all like weather; coming closer and darkening the air.

Everyone else is asleep, tucked up in their respective beds and out for the count. It’s no surprise, given we’re up early again tomorrow for even more training, and Frankie has her meeting with the board. Still, I find myself pacing the hallway more times than I can count, and eventually come to a final stop in front of her door before I can talk myself out of it.

I’ve never done this. Not without being invited first. Not without a clear reason.

But the bond tugs like a low drumbeat in my chest, and I need—I justneed—to be near her.

The room is dim and warm. Frankie’s scent hits as I push the door open—lavender, warmth, the trace of us all wrapped through her. She’s in bed—

And so is Finn.

He’s on the far side, curled up with one arm slung loosely over her waist, snoring gently against her shoulder. Frankie’s head rests against his chest, hair spread across the pillow. They’re both half-tangled in blankets, bare legs knotted, breathing slow and steady.

I stop in the doorway. Something settles low in my chest, deep and quiet as I stand there, drinking it in.

Finn’s always been good at this. The closeness, the reaching without needing permission. The way he shows up, open and soft and never ashamed of it. And Frankie—Frankie welcomes it like she’s never known anything different; like the way she holds space for him is just instinct, like letting someone rest against her heartbeat is no big deal.

It is to me, though. That kind of comfort… Well. I’ve never stepped into it without flinching.

I shift my weight, almost ready to turn back. Just the sight of them—that should be enough. Should carry me through the night. I don’t need to ruin it. Don’t need to risk—

She moves.

Frankie shifts under the blankets, then pushes herself up slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes as her head turns toward me.

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