Page 48

Chapter 48

Defense

Robyn

T he sound of my bedroom door cracking open wakes me from a fitful sleep. There’s no way I slept longer than a few hours.

“Birdie?” my mom says quietly before sitting on my bedside and placing a hand on my side. “It’s time to get up. It’s almost ten. I have breakfast waiting, and your dad just arrived. It’s time to start making our plans.”

They’re not your plans, they’re mine. They’re Isaiah’s and Dell’s.

I told her everything about Dell last night. The OnlyFans account. The thirst traps. Him being my personal trainer and Isaiah’s boyfriend, too. I tried to tell her all the good things, like how fun and hardworking he is, how kind and thoughtful… but she couldn’t hear any of it. Dell was just another wrench thrown into my career, a career that she was desperately trying to piece together.

Opening one eye, I focus on her. “I’d like to wait for the guys since this involves them.”

“Just…” she trails off while rubbing a soothing thumb over my shoulder. “Come downstairs and let’s talk.”

“Fine. I’ll be right down.”

With a soft tap, she gets up, and I press my palms into my eyes to rub away sleep when she leaves. When I fling my covers away and sit at the edge of the bed, the overwhelming sense of irrevocable and unwelcome change strangles me. Nothing will be the same once I leave my bedroom, and I’m sorely tempted to stay in here forever.

But then I’d miss rugby. I’d miss out on the bone-deep exhaustion after a hard-fought victory. I’d miss out on the scrapes and bruises shown off like trophies. The smell of sunscreen and body odor all mingling together over a bed of grass.

I’d miss my teammates. I’d miss their smiles and their laughter. The stories from their day-to-day lives told over ankles being taped and submerged into ice baths.

I’d miss out on the career I have worked ruthlessly for. Playing at a professional level has cost me a lot, but given me more than I could have ever dreamed.

I wouldn't know Isaiah if it wasn’t for rugby. I wouldn’t have met Dell that fateful day at the pride parade or become his client. These men were always supposed to be in my life. So how am I going to keep them without losing the sport that gives me everything?

Throwing on a sports bra, T-shirt, and athletic shorts, I head down the stairs to the main floor and immediately spot my dad. I haven’t seen him since Christmas, but he’s still the same towering presence he always was. He no longer maintains his Olympic figure like my mom, but with a small belly and broad shoulders, he still turns heads with just how imposing he is. With short dark brown hair that’s a whole lot whiter than brunette, he looks the same, albeit a little tired from flying here last-minute. His green eyes fix on mine, and the fine lines around his eyes deepen when he smiles.

“Hey, Birdie,” he says, coming to wrap me up in a bear hug. I want to believe he means well by being here, but I can’t find it in me to relax. Stiffly, I hug him back. “We’re gonna figure this out.” He releases me, and he gestures for us to sit at my dining table just off the kitchen. “Your mom and I have been discussing this. You know we only want what’s best for you, right? ”

I stare down at the bowl of green apple slices and two boiled eggs atop a bed of fresh spinach. Yup, my mom definitely made this breakfast. “I believe you think that.”

“What do you mean?” Mom asks.

A wave of rebellion licks at my heels. “I think you want what’s best for me as long as it’s furthering my career.”

“Well of course, Birdie,” she huffs. “You’re carrying on the family legacy and we are your biggest supporters.”

“My biggest supporters? Hm . Okay. So tell me what you two have been discussing. I can’t wait to hear it.” Stabbing two apple slices with a fork, I bite into the sour fruit and wait for them to speak.

Dad goes first. “First of all, we’ve spoken to a lawyer who comes highly recommended from a couple of my former teammates. We have a conference call with him at noon.”

Mom settles her hands in her lap. “And we think it would be best for you to end things with Isaiah and Dell.”

A sudden weakness tramples over my body, and a twinge of pain forms behind my jaw. “See, I knew it. I knew you were going to ask me to cut them out.”

“It’s for the best,” Mom tries to soothe, but it only adds fire to my flames.

“Maybe for my career! But what about my personal life? When is it time for me to love and be loved?”

“We’ve never prevented you from having a relationship,” she says.

“Up until now, no,” I shrug. “But you’ve also never cared one way or the other because you’ve channeled all your love and attention for me into my athletic abilities and image.”

Dad holds up his hand. “You’re getting off topic—”

“I’m really not! My career, my image are directly in the line of fire right now thanks to the men I love and want to be with.”

“And it wouldn’t be if you just ended it with them, Birdie!” my dad booms, all niceties vanished, replaced with a flush of red across his face. A childish urge to shrivel away takes over my body. “Jesus Christ, how dense can you be about this? You obviously can’t date your coach. And you obviously can’t date a pornstar. Nothing is stopping you from dating someone normal! Someone who isn’t going to derail your career!”

“Birdie,” my mom says with intensity burning in her eyes. “If you fight this, I want you to really think about how the Valor will respond and how the media will treat you.” When I don’t reply, she continues. “There is a very real chance you could get fired if you stay with him—Isaiah. And let’s say, by some miracle, you do keep your job, there’s no way he is. You’re too big of a player and he’s too new. Now you’re dating some disgraced former rugby coach.”

I roll my eyes but she snaps at me. “No, you listen to me. And what of the other one? Dell. The image you’ve created of being America’s sweetheart, the woman little girls aspire to be like, the athlete brands beg to represent them… now tarnished by dating someone who makes porn!”

“He doesn’t do it anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re going to be dragged through the mud by the media while he’s praised. You’re going to be painted as a whore, and he’s going to be painted as a hero. He’ll probably gain more followers while you lose a huge part of your fan base. Brands won’t associate with someone like you. You know that’s how this works.”

For a moment, I think about all those young people I’ve met over the years, like that blue-haired fan at Pride who wanted nothing more than to start a rugby program at their school. They did. And I held up my bargain and visited them the next year. I’ll never forget how they all lit up when I walked up with my teammates.

I would hate to lose that.

As much as it hurts, I know my mom has a point. What tears me up is the thought of the parents, whose kids look up to me, being disappointed in yet another disgraced role model.

Rugby player.

Role model.

Woman.

Why is it impossible to be all three? Why do I have to love two men who can give me everything my heart desires, but can crush my career without even trying? Why is everything so easy with them and so hard because of it?

Maybe… my parents are right. Maybe, once again, it’s not the right time. The thought dangles in my consciousness because I’m too afraid to let it drop all the way down, too afraid to let it settle into place. I’m a fool one way or the other—if I break up with them, I lose out on the greatest love I’ve ever known, and if I stay with them, I lose out on my career.

Suddenly the sound of the front door being unlocked triggers my full attention. The door swings open and I’m greeted by the greatest love I’ve ever known—in the flesh. Every worry evaporates into thin air, and my feet carry me without another thought into their arms.

“Darlin’,” Dell whispers into the crown of my head, his big arms wrapping around me as Isaiah joins in too. Tears well as their familiar scents fill my head. Dell’s mint and Isaiah’s faint coconut and almond beard oil comfort me.

“We’re here,” Isaiah says, and I suddenly realize how stupid it was to not see them when I got home from the photoshoot. I needed them, and based on the way they’re holding me, they needed me, too.

My mother’s displeased exhale fills the silence of our embrace, and I’m brought back to reality. Or maybe it’s a different reality—because I know it’s real here in their arms. But outside is a reality fraught with opinions from people who can make or break me.

“Can we talk now?” Dell asks as he pulls his head back and wipes tears from my cheek.

My dad clears his throat. “We’ve already made our plans.”

Dell furrows his eyebrows, stepping over to my parents who have made their way from the dining table to the living room. “Hi, Mr. Cassidy,” he says seriously and extends his hand, which Dad does not take. “I—I’m sorry we’re meeting under such poor circumstances.” When my dad does nothing but stare at him, Dell offers a hand to my mom. “Mrs. Cassidy.” She crosses her arms. Dell sighs, “Okay. Guess I have a lot to prove.”

“There’s nothing to prove,” Mom says. “Because you’re not staying in the picture. Neither of you are. All you need to know is that Birdie will be denying any involvement with the two of you. That kiss on the porch was a one time thing.”

Before my parents can say anything else, Dell’s phone buzzes, and he pulls it from his pocket. He scans the screen and looks between me and Zay. “It’s my PR woman. Robyn, is there somewhere we can talk to her privately?”

He hired a PR person? Shouldn’t I be the one to do that?

“If you’re talking to PR, then we need to be involved!” Mom huffs.

“No,” I snap as I step closer and take each man’s hand. “If there’s a chance we can save our relationship, then I want to hear it.”

Dad stares at me. “You know ending it with them is the only way to go. It’s the only way to save what we’ve built.”

“I don’t know that for certain! Let me see what other options there are and I will make that decision. With them! This is my life and my career and while I appreciate your support, I need to learn how to navigate my own life.” Adrenaline courses through my veins when I pull the guys with me and head downstairs to the lower level without another look back.

“You don’t walk away from us like that young lady!” my dad yells. And if there was any doubt that I’m making the right choice, it’s washed away by my own father calling me young lady. Telling me I can’t walk away from them… No professional would say that to their client. But of course, they don’t see me as just their talent. They see me as their child they can mold.

Not anymore.