Page 86 of Scrum Heat

Another coach claps a hand on his shoulder—the gesture both firm and familiar. They fall slightly behind the others, walking slower as Coach leans in, speaking directly into Jax’s ear. Jax listens. He doesn’t nod, doesn’t speak—just absorbs whatever’s being said.

Something about the way they move together—measured, quiet and steady—sticks in my chest. It’s different from how the coaches are with the others. This seems so much less tactical, and much more…personal.

And for once, Jax doesn’t flinch, doesn’t brush it off or shut down. No, he walks beside him, calm and quiet while the rest of the team disappears down the tunnel in a chorus of chatter and muddy footsteps.

There are so many layers to that man. So many things I still don’t know. Who taught him to stay so still? And why does he always watch first, move second? What is it that he carves in his spare time, and why does Coach treat him like someone worth speaking to in whispers?

I can’t even think of how many times he’s saved me a seat without saying a word, and I can’t help it—

I wonder what it would feel like to have all of that silence turned inward—towardme.

I swallow hard and zip my bag up all the way, trying not to dwell on it. After all, there’s plenty of time to learn.

This was an away match, which meant team bus, energy drinks, and a whole lot of sweat trapped in polyester. The club had rented out a handful of rooms at a local hotel—nothingfancy, just cheap and cheerful with questionable carpets and surprisingly decent pillows.

The players were doubling up at two to a room, which they’d grumbled about for all of ten seconds before descending into roommate-style bickering over who snored and who took forever in the shower.

Meanwhile, I had a room to myself—one of the very few perks of being one of the only women in a male-dominated environment. Harper couldn’t make the trip this weekend, and Evie had—allegedly—booked her own suite elsewhere. According to the guys, she refuses to sleep anywhere under five stars, and honestly? That tracks. I’d believe it if they also said she keeps spare eye masks in a velvet-lined safe.

So,technically, I have my own room. A little hotel-issued solitude. Peace. Privacy. My own bed.

But if I happen to wake up with Finn curled up next to me, warm and solid and smug as hell—if his arm slides around my waist and stays there, and if I fall asleep with the scent of him seeping into my sheets, and something new and quiet andpotentiallybond-shaped beginning to hum under my skin…

Well. That’s nobody else’s business.

Not even the winger with the broken nose.

*

It’s been four days since the match, three since the buzz of gossip from the article started to die down, two since I stopped obsessively refreshing the comments, and one very satisfying day since Evie told me Alderbridge RFC’s engagement stats are up 400%.

Which is wild, considering most of our content involves Theo shirtless, Rory glaring, Finn grinning, and Jax pretending the camera doesn’t exist.

Life in Alderbridge has officially calmed down.

Well.Almost.

Because tonight, we’re having a game night.

Theo suggested it, Finn made snacks, Rory threatened to take everyone’s phone if we didn’t behave, and Jax walked in with a bottle of whiskey and zero explanation.

“If we’re going to be a real pack, then we need to properly bond,” Theo declared, laying out a stack of cards on the living room coffee table with full alpha ceremony.

I didn’t point out that they’ve already been bonded for years and probably don’t need a team-building exercise to figure each other out. But sure.Bonding.

“Team building. Emotional vulnerability,” The explained. “Also… I want to win.”

The game starts simple. A few rounds of Never Have I Ever, which quickly derails when Jax raises his glass after “Never have I ever been tackled so hard I forgot my own name,” and Theo hisses, “You didn’t forget, you just pretended your name was Knife.”

Then it escalates.

We move on to “Who’s Most Likely To,” which includes questions like:

Who’s most likely to cry at a rom-com? (Finn.Duh.)

Who’s most likely to start a bar fight? (Jax. No hesitation.)

Who’s most likely to fake a faint to avoid confrontation? (Me. And yes, Theo brings it up. Loudly.)

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