Page 16 of Dirty Ruck (Ruck Boys #5)

Chapter Sixteen

Jay

"Would you believe this is my first time in Fiji?" Chelsea pushed the strap of her laptop bag up her shoulder and stepped down off the plane beside me.

I glanced over to her and managed a slight smile. "I've lost count." We travel to so many places sometimes they all blurred together.

"I will too, soon enough," she said. "All of this flying around everywhere, do you get over it sometimes?"

"Are you asking as my doctor or my…" I glanced around to see who was listening. "Girlfriend?"

"Both," she said, after doing the same check.

"Yeah, sometimes." I adjusted my tie, certain this time it was going to strangle me.

Who invented these things anyway? And who decided we had to wear them?

I would have been happier getting off the plane in jeans, a T-shirt and bare feet.

Instead, we had to wear suits, like we were heading to the office.

"You know what I get over?" Frost asked from directly behind us. "The amount of times I've asked if we could go and lie on the beach and drink cocktails. They keep saying no."

"Poor baby," Storm said with no sympathy. "It's not like they pay us to play football or anything."

"They don't pay you to look pretty," Atlas told him.

"I'd give you the finger, but people are watching," Storm told him. "Pretend I'm doing it."

"No thanks," Atlas said. "I'll think about the other kind of fingering."

Storm snorted. "Not gonna happen."

Atlas shot him a look, mouth open, tongue out in mild, playful disgust. "Not from you."

"You're both spoilsports," Frost complained. "Right, Jay?"

"I guess so," I said, only half paying attention to them. How had we gone from Chelsea checking in on me to fingering in two minutes or less?

Okay, that was becoming the new normal pretty fast. If I was honest, I liked it. If nothing else, it deflected attention from me. The only thing I wanted to be in the middle of, was a bed, surrounded by naked lovers. Not the centre of attention at the airport.

"So they never gave you time off to drink cocktails?" Chelsea asked, reining in the conversation somewhat.

"They herd us back on the plane as soon as we finish playing and get changed," Frost said. "Sometimes I feel like a performing sheep."

"Is that even a thing?" Storm asked. "Performing sheep."

"It used to be," Frost deadpanned. "But then they used to fleece everyone."

Storm groaned and smacked his hand to his forehead. "I should have known that bullshit was coming. No wonder a guy drinks."

"Do you go to the baa for that?" Atlas grinned.

"Fuck off," Storm said. "Don't you start with the stupid puns."

"Buck off," Atlas replied. "I don't answer to ewe. In case you missed it, that's spelled E… W…"

"Yeah, I get it, dickhead," Storm snapped.

"Shear up," Frost said. "The puns aren't that baaad."

Storm rolled his eyes. "I'm starting to reconsider this relationsheep. I mean, relationship." He was struggling to hold back the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"You know you love me." Frost gave him a side on hug as they kept walking. "If we were at home we could go for a drive in your Lamb-orghini and spend some time together."

Storm stared at him. "I don't have a — fuck. All right, no more stupid sheep puns."

"Sheep live in pens," I said, trying to keep my expression as deadpan as Frost had.

"What Jay said," Atlas said. "Without them, they'd be running wild. That might be what Storm wants."

"You guys are out of your minds," Storm said.

"Which is exactly why you love us so much," Frost said. "We keep you entertained."

"That's one word for it," Storm grumbled. "If you're not careful, they won't let you through customs." He raised a finger and pointed at Frost. "Whatever sheep jokes you have, save it."

Frost raised his hands to either side in surrender. "I was out of sheep jokes. If you're going to be in a moood, then —"

"Don't start with cow puns," Storm warned. He pulled out his passport as we entered the terminal, ready to show the local customs officers as we filed past.

"They keep things interesting, don't they?" Chelsea said to me softly as she stepped behind me in the line.

I grunted. "That's one way to put it. I guess they kinda make things easier. Lighten the mood and stuff, y'know?"

"It's true what they say about laughter being good for you," she said. "It relieves stress and makes people live longer. Even if they're only sheep puns."

"I'm surprised they didn't get to goat puns." I glanced over my shoulder at Ramsey.

He grimaced. "Don't remind them."

I smiled. I didn't think Frost needed too much reminding, but he wouldn't hear it from me.

I pulled out my own passport and opened it so it could be inspected and scanned. The team handled any other travel documentation we needed, so I knew everything would be in order. As expected, the officer handed back my passport and waved me through.

"They probably know all of you on sight," Chelsea said, pushing her own passport into her skirt pocket.

"It wouldn't surprise me," I said. "They even seem to know who I am."

"Of course they do," she said, walking beside me again. "You're just as important as any other player on the team."

"I guess, but I don't talk to the press much," I said.

Knowing they might be waiting once we left the airport put me on edge.

"They wouldn't know my face as well as the others’.

They all know Storm, because he always has something to say.

And Frost because he's friendly. And Dallas has his moments.

" I nodded to where he was walking in front of us.

"And they notice Atlas because he's Atlas.

" I was going to say he was smoking hot, but that was obvious.

He was the kind of guy who drew gazes wherever he went.

Even if people didn't know he played football, they stopped to stare.

And me, I was just Jayden Lang, the guy from Western Sydney who happened to be good at rugby.

"They notice you too," she assured me. "Speaking of being noticed…"

We stepped out into the Fijian sunshine, only to see a contingent of Australian press gathered around our bus.

"Storm, what can you tell us about the death of your head coach?" one shouted.

"Was it just an accident?" another yelled.

"Dallas, Frost, what can you tell us about the general manager, Bruce Fergus? Would you say it's a coincidence that he died, then Coach Stanley?"

"Would you say the Smashers are cursed?"

We pushed through them towards the bus, not answering any of the questions. The more they yelled, the higher my anxiety rose. My hands started to tingle and my heart raced.

"Jayden Lang, can you give us some words about Coach Stanley?"

I found a microphone shoved into my face, right in front of my nose. My first instinct was to grab it and throw it to the ground before stepping on it and crunching it into a million pieces.

Instead I muttered, "No comment."

"Come on, you must have something to say," the journalist insisted. "You're sad about it, right? Would you say you miss his leadership?"

With the palm of my hand, I shoved the microphone away and all but ran onto the bus and right down the back. I threw myself down onto a seat and curled up on myself.

"Jay?" Of course it was Atlas who approached me carefully, gesturing for everyone to give me some space. Chelsea wasn't far behind, looking worried, but also keeping a careful distance.

"Hey." Atlas eased the strap of my bag off my shoulder and handed the whole thing to Chelsea, who stashed it in the rack above us.

"It's okay. They shouldn't have been up in your face like that.

" He looked like he might get back off the bus, grab the microphone and shove it down the journalist's throat.

"They just wanted to know how we were feeling," I said, half to myself.

Was that a bad thing? The team released statements, but people always wanted to know how the players felt at times like this.

It wasn't unreasonable, was it? I hated that I felt like I overreacted.

I hated that it got to me like this. They had microphones in everyone's faces and no one else ran off like I did.

"They were pushy and rude," Atlas said. "They should know better. You did nothing wrong."

"I should have kept my cool." Right now, I couldn't remember what my cool felt like. My heart was racing so hard. Taking a deep breath was a struggle. I wanted to curl up in a ball. At the same time, I wanted to scream at the whole world to fuck all the way off.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. No way I was going to cry in front of my team. Fuck, why couldn't this happen at the hotel, or somewhere I could melt down in private?

"I barely kept mine." Atlas took my hands and squeezed them gently. "We're on the bus now. You won't have to deal with them again."

"But when we get to the hotel—" I started.

"They won't come near you," he promised.

Chelsea sat in the seat opposite, facing us. "We'll all make sure they don't." She shook her head, her ponytail flicking back and forth. "Is that normal? I haven't seen the press behave like that since I joined the team."

"It can be," Atlas said. "Especially when something goes down like losing two major people. It's bullshit; how do they expect us to feel? Of course we're going to be grieving. Of course we think it's fucked up. What did they want?"

"What do they ever want?" I asked. "They think if they push, we'll say something juicy." If I was worked up enough, I might. Or I might have punched one of them. That would make a great headline. For them, not for me. I'd be in a shit ton of trouble.

"Then they're out of luck, because we don't have anything juicy to tell them," Chelsea said with a faint smile.

"We have plenty, but we're not telling them.

" Atlas squeezed my hands again. "I'm sorry this happened.

I should have been closer. I should have put myself between you and them.

" He looked frustrated at them and himself.

As if somehow he let me down and not the other way around.

The last thing I wanted was to behave in a way that embarrassed the team.

I couldn't stay there anymore, listening to the barrage of questions. The overwhelm was too much to handle.

"You can't protect me forever," I said quietly. Sooner or later, he'd get sick of doing that, right? He'd start to feel overwhelmed and crowded. By me.

"The hell I can't," he said. "That's what I'm here for. To make sure you're good, no matter what goes down."

Frost popped up from the seat in front of us. He gave me his usual smile with no hint of judgement. If he thought I was some kind of emotional mess, he gave no sign. "He can and so can the rest of us. Right guys?"

"Right," Chelsea said firmly. She nodded at Frost to sit back down, giving me my space.

He flopped back down immediately.

"See, everyone gets it," Atlas said. "We've got you, because we love you." He let my hands go and reached for his seatbelt.

I fastened my own and turned my gaze towards the window to watch the scenery roll by as we made our way toward our hotel.