Taste of Commitment (Whisky and Risky #2)

Prologue

KNOX

The roar of two-and-a-half million fans echoes through the tunnel and down to our team’s locker room.

“This is it. Eighty minutes. Right here. Right now.” Coach Henderson stands in the middle of the room, his hands resting on his hips as he addresses our team for one last time this season. “Eighty minutes to give it everything you’ve got. Right now. Not yesterday, not tomorrow, not next week. Right fucking now.”

The rest of my teammates mirror my expression of narrowed brows, clenched teeth, and hungry eyes.

“This isn’t just a game. It’s not just a championship game, either. Rugby has never been just a sport. It’s who you all are at your very core. You live and breathe this every day. You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for this moment.”

“When you come off that pitch tonight, you come off knowing that you gave it everything you had and that you had absolutely nothing left to give. That’s how you’re going to win this World Championship. That’s how you’re going to make yourselves proud. That’s what’s going to make all those sacrifices your friends and family, your wives and girlfriends, and your coaches have made all worth it.”

I look around the room at my teammates. Lewis, our flanker and my best mate on the team, nods his head intently. I know his wife and kids are out in the stands cheering for him and for the long hours he’s spent working for this exact moment.

“Make no mistake about it, it’s going to fucking hurt. You’re going to break through your comfort zone, and then you’re going to be dragged through it. But it’s a place you’ve all been and come back from before. You’re prepared for how brutal it will be.”

“You’ve got the best captain in the league right now.” He gestures to me. “Follow him out there, and as a team, bring this trophy home.”

“Whatever it takes,” I say.

Coach nods once, and the room erupts in response. “Whatever it takes!”

The tunnel out to the pitch feels a million miles long while also feeling like it’s close enough that I could reach out and touch it.

“Amelia, the kids, and I are going out to celebrate tonight. You know you’re always welcome to join us,” Lewis says.

“I appreciate that, mate,” I respond without taking my eyes off the tunnel opening. “My parents got in last night, and I haven’t seen them yet, but maybe we’ll meet up with you later.”

“After we win this trophy.”

“After we win this trophy,” I echo.

Sheer determination and power erupt around me as my teammates chant, jump, shout, and bark. I feel the pressure of bodies moving around me, but the sounds fade to a soft drone as I hone in on my one goal. I have a one-track mind and the only thing I see is my hands holding the Rugby League World Champion Cup above my head in eighty minutes' time.

The world around me moves in slow motion. My heartbeat thrums in my ears with every step I take. Not only have I blown through my comfort zone, but I’ve been dragged to hell and back. With five minutes left on the clock, it’s the first time in my life that I wished rugby was a sport with timeouts. Sweat covers every inch of my body but for the next five minutes, I welcome the pain and allow myself to be dragged into the furthest depths of this hell. After years of playing together, I don’t even need to look to know that Lewis is right behind me, ready to mark the ball. My right foot touches the twenty-two meter line, and I toss the ball back to him with a twist. Before my left foot can hit the ground, the weight of a freight train slams into my left side. I’ve not braced for impact as the onslaught of a late hit barrels into me, and all the air is sucked from my lungs as I go tumbling to the ground. Everything happens so fast, but I’m able to count the milliseconds in time.

A violent ring blares between my ears as I try and fail to peel my eyelids open. I feel my body moving and awake just in time to vomit everywhere and crash back down to the ground, eating a mouthful of neon green grass.

Wake up. Open your eyes. Hold on, KB. I can’t tell if I’m talking to myself or if someone else is speaking to me, but I hold on to the words like a vice. I vaguely register the light swaying back and forth motion of my body, and with the force of a thousand suns, I open my eyes—blurry bodies with no faces coat my vision until the bright light above pulls me into the dark once again.

Almost there, KB. Just hold on.