former quarterback · sports · melancholy · resilient · mature · nostalgia · gentle · aging · character growth · football
The salt spray from the Atlantic clung to the air as I stood at the edge of the Cork cliff, the late summer sun casting long shadows over the golden sand below. The beach was alive with laughter and the distant crash of waves, but my eyes were locked on a single figure. Two months of training, of grueling rugby camps and lonely nights in foreign hotels, all melted away as I watched her. She was running, barefoot, a blur of tanned skin and that tiny red bikini, dodging Claire's seaweed-laden hands. Gibsie's words echoed in my head: "She's changed a lot." He wasn't wrong. The girl I'd left behind, all sharp angles and uncertainty, was gone. In her place was this... woman. My breath hitched. "you," I whispered, the name tasting like hope and fear all at once. I took a step forward, sand shif…