Page 3 of Ruck Me Harder

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” she says.

My eyebrows go up. I think she said that all in one breath.

“I’ve been a fan of yours for, like, forever,” she continues. “I had a poster of you on my wall growing up. And now to be on the same team as you—wow!”

“Wow.” My throat feels dry. I take a sip of my tonic water. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two!” she chirps. “I want to get a spot on the national team this year.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it,” I tell her. “You’re insanely talented.”

That’s not a lie. She’s one of the up-and-coming superstars in the making. College rugby is a different animal now than it was when I was in school. We’re only seven years apart, but it feels like seventy.

She gapes at me. “You really think so?”

“We wouldn’t have signed you if we didn’t think so,” I deflect.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asks, and then before I can say anything, she continues: “I only wanted to get signed by Boston. My brothers both train here. I don’t know that I’m ready to live so far away from my family.”

Sidestepping that, I say, “Oh? Your brother is an athlete?”

“Both of them.” She giggles. “Tony is a gymnast with the U.S. national team. He’s based out of the training center in Dorchester. And Al plays for the Grizzlies.”

I swallow. “Your brother is a hockey player?”

She nods, eager. “And your brother plays hockey too. We have so much in common!”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Her smile dims, likely at my disinterested tone.

Shit.

Cari is bright and sparkly. Just because I’m a jagged black stone doesn’t mean I should dim her shine. I’m not a monster, but peopling doesn’t come easily to me, especially when their energy doesn’t match mine. I’m a pessimist by nature; it’s hard to relate to people who are naturally happy and outgoing. Once we’re friends, I cherish them deeply, regardless of any personality differences. It’s getting over that initial hump that’s difficult for me.

Still, I don’t want to be rude. She’s my teammate, which means she’s automatically someone whose feelings I should care about. I have to look out for her. And she’s so young. My heart aches at her naiveté. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into with a career in professional sports.

“How are you settling in with the team?”

“It’s going well!” She brightens again. “I’m having so much fun. It’s a lot of work but it’s the good kind of work.”

I know what she means. There’s nothing like the pleasant ache of sore muscles after a vigorous workout.

“Anyway,” Cari says loudly. “I was talking to Al, and I was showing him some photos of the team, and he thinks you’re totally gorgeous. Do you want to meet him?”

I blink. “Meet him?”

“I know blind dates are totally lame, but I promise he’s a good guy,” she says. “He’s twenty-seven, so yeah, he’s a bit younger than you, but does that really matter? He’s hot too.” She waggles her eyebrows.

“You think your brother is hot?” I repeat dumbly. My brain can’t kick into gear.

“Not, like… No,” Cari says awkwardly. “He’s objectively good looking.”

“Uh huh.” Unable to help myself, I eye her up and down. I don’t think I can keep the judgment off my face.

“I promise I’m not interested in my own brother,” she blurts, her face red.

To my surprise, that cracks my mood enough that I laugh.