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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR-KOA

Game Day, Consequence, NC

The field’s packed.

Stands full.

Noise pulsing like a heartbeat through the turf. This isn’t a friendly. This is it.

The first official match for the Carolina Rovers.

Everything’s polished.

The uniforms.

The branding— special thanks to my woman .

The promo banners with our faces blown up like we’re goddamn superheroes.

Tank keeps calling himself “the franchise” now. Might have to punch him later.

But right now?

Right now, I’ve got one focus.

Her.

Finley’s on the sideline, clipboard in hand, radio in her ear, fidgeting like she might actually vibrate out of her own skin.

Her new assistant is buzzing around her. She’s directing the younger woman like a general.

But I can see it. Her nerves.

Today isn’t just the team’s debut.

It’s hers.

Her first big event idea is a good one.

A Bachelor Auction Gala and the reveal is today.

How she managed to put together an idea for a fundraiser where the players will be “sold” for a one-night-only date, and all to support local kids and rugby programs in just a few days, I have no idea.

It’s amazing. But so is she. And I am one lucky SOB.

It makes me grin. The fellas getting auctioned off like meat in tight polos.

It’s a smart idea. Clever. Eye-catching. So her.

And also?

Thank Christ I’m not in it.

Perks of being the most publicly claimed man in the league, save for our coach.

I’m officially off the menu.

But I know she’s nervous.

Because even though it’s brilliant, she’s afraid the team won’t take it seriously.

That the fans will eat her alive.

That she won’t be seen as a professional woman with a sharp mind. Just some rugby girlfriend tagging along with her famous boyfriend and a camera.

Finley shouldn’t feel that way.

But she does. And I hate it.

So tonight? I’m going to show her— and everyone watching —exactly who she is to me.

Exactly what she means.

Coach gives the nod, and the rest of the team starts lining up behind me.

Every muscle in my body is tight with anticipation— not from nerves, not from the game.

From what I’m about to do.

The crowd’s restless.

Curious.

The anthem ends.

The field goes quiet.

Then I step forward.

And I perform the haka.

Our haka.

My haka.

I breathe deep. In and out. My hand twitching at my side. I increase my stance. My expression changes.

This is part of it. Part of what the haka symbolizes and means.

We perform the haka to challenge our opponents. To express power, strength and unity. And to mark significant occasions.

Like this one.

Every beat of my chest, every stomp of my feet, every guttural cry from my soul is hers.

“Ka mate, ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora!”

This is important. What I do now means everything.

“Ka mate, ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora!”

My voice is loudest.

It’s a war cry.

A declaration.

A promise that I will fight for her, with her, beside her.

The team joins me.

We bellow and beat our chests.

“ā upane, ka upane, whiti te rā!”

We finish and stand panting.

There is a prolonged moment of silence.

Then the stadium loses its mind.

And I’m done, chest heaving, sweat beading down my brow, I don’t return to the line.

I turn, running straight to the sideline.

Then I come to a full stop in front of her.

Finley’s staring at me, tears in her glittering green eyes.

She is looking right at me like I’ve lit up the whole sky.

“W-what are you doing?” she whispers, eyes wide.

I reach into my pocket.

Drop to one knee.

The crowd gasps.

I don’t hear them.

I don’t see them.

I only see her.

“Finley Adamo,” I say, voice rough with everything I feel, “You’ve changed my whole life. Made me believe in more than this game, this body, this season. You’ve made me believe in us.”

Her hands fly to her mouth.

“I love you. Truly. Madly. Completely. And permanently. I want the whole world to know you’re not just my girlfriend. You’re my home.”

I flip open the box.

“Will you marry me, Red?”

She doesn’t speak.

She launches herself at me instead, arms wrapped around my neck, laughing and sobbing and nodding so hard I think she might sprain something.

“Yes!” she shouts. “Yes, you crazy, beautiful man, yes!”

The stadium explodes.

Camera flashes.

Fans screaming.

Her own assistant clicking away with the camera.

Carolina is yelling from beside her.

Tank is howling something from the field about calling Mum and getting to choose the color for his best man’s tux.

Whatever.

All I can hear is her, whispering into my ear.

“I love you, Number Eight.”

And just like that? It no longer matters what happens to my career, even though I suspect it will be a good one.

All those worries and anxieties about my legacy they simply float away like they never existed.

Because at that moment, in the breakdown of it all— I win .

Finley said yes, so fuck yeah, I win.

“Easy champ. Your coach is calling,” Finley says, kissing me once before stepping back.

“Don’t care. I just want you.”

“Oh, you got me alright. Now, get out there and kick some ass. I don’t want to be engaged to a loser,” she snarks.

“God, I love your sassy mouth, Red,” I say, kissing her one more time. “And I plan to fuck it. Right after I win this match.”

For the first time, I render my girl speechless. And yeah, I feel cocky as fuck over that.

And I’m determined it won’t be the last time. After all, now that she’s mine—now that she’s said yes—we have forever.

And I can’t fucking wait.