“Get in!” the men roared back.
They ran back onto the field, renewed and determined.
Nick glanced toward the tunnel entrance and saw Anna jumping up and down, an England flag in one hand and a Stars and Stripes in the other. Probably the only Stars and Stripes in the whole stadium.
Energy flooded through him and his eyes narrowed as he focussed on the game.
He grabbed the ball and accelerated down the field, moving with the speed and precision of a panther as he dodged the huge Samoan players. It was stunning, watching him weave through the wall of defenders, passing the ball, plucking it from the air as it was thrown back to him, charging hard, running for the line! He’d scored a try!
Slowly, England began to recover the ground they’d lost, pushing forward with their attack, getting the ball and keeping the ball, playing harder, playing faster, being tougher.
The fans were screaming themselves hoarse and drums were being pounded around the stadium. No one was sitting, not even in the Royal Box. Princes William and Harry were on their feet and even the Duchess of Cambridge was yelling her encouragement, her eyes bright and excited.
Nick was soaked with sweat, his England shirt clinging to his body as the match reached the closing minutes. England were still trailing Samoa by four points. It was going to the wire, it could go either way, and everyone knew it.
The cheers and shouts grew louder until no one standing in the Twickenham stadium could hear themselves above the tidal wave of sound. Nick felt like he was underwater, hearing only the waves crashing overhead.
He had to dig deep inside himself. He had to find the reserves of energy, to find out if he had what it took to be a winner.
He thought of all the people who’d believed in him, the people who loved him. And he thought of Anna.
He glanced around, taking in the tired faces of his teammates, knowing that they were on their last legs, they didn’t have much left to give, wondering if there was anything in the reserve tank. But the huge Samoans weren’t looking much better, the strain showing everywhere.
In the stands, the crowd were jumping up and down, urging the team on, yelling their hearts out, desperation in the shrill noise, the excitement of the World Cup Final. They believed in the team. They believed they could still win.
Nick’s head came up and even though there were just seconds left to play, he felt that belief flood through him.
The ball went wide and Nick sprinted into position as Owen passed to Jason, and then to Andy.
And he saw his opportunity.
Ignoring a desperate Eddie Jones, ignoring the game plan, he raced down the wing, catching the ball at full speed and tucking it under his arm, a man on a mission. His eyes narrowed, all his energy focussed on that distant white stripe. His legs pumped furiously and his heart thundered as the world shrunk around him.
Fetuao thundered down behind him with Lani, the two of them coming in for a pincer movement, refusing to let the game go without a fight.
Eddie Jones had his head in his hands, almost unable to watch, knowing that his reputation and career were on the line with the young team he’d chosen, with the choices that he’d made.
He opened his eyes as Nick rocketed past, beating Lomu. Paul Dawson came up behind him, and now it was two England players and two Samoans racing for the line, Lani and Fetu storming up the field.
The referee glanced at his watch and the crowd’s roars grew even louder with just seconds left to play.
Eng-er-land! Eng-er-LAND!
Seeing Fetu and Lani converging on him, Nick passed to Paul, who side-stepped the massive Samoan and threw the ball back to Nick.
He snatched it from the air, adrenaline shooting through him as he put his head down, running hard down the left wing, racing for the line!
The ball was tucked tightly under his left arm, his right arm thrust out to fight off any tackle.
The crowd were screaming, Fetu was right behind him, the referee was lifting his whistle, could he do it, could he do it?
Nick launched himself into the air, the ball tucked beneath his arm as the line appeared in front of him. He felt Fetu’s hand against his back, trying to grab his shirt, but it was too late.
The ground raced up to meet him, a bone-jarring, teeth-rattling jolt as he crashed and skidded across the green turf, crossing the line as the referee blew the final whistle and the crowd went wild.
Stuart:
Oh yes, across the line! Nick Renshaw has scored for England! Get in there! The ref’s blown the whistle! England win the World Cup! See you later, Samoa!
Jonny:
The stadium’s erupted! The fans can’t believe it!
Jimmy:
What an exciting game today and what a thrilling finish! Nick’s had a turbulent build up to this series but he’s come through with flying colours, clinched the winning try. What a finish! What a game! What a day! England win the Rugby World Cup 2016! No one who saw this match will ever forget it! England win!
Nick lay on the ground, his hands over his eyes, feeling the waves of emotion as 82,000 people cheered and yelled, jumping up and down, tears on their faces.
Suddenly, all his teammates were there, joy and euphoria in their voices as they crowded around him, pulling him to his feet, pounding his back and hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe. This meant everything to him, to them, to their country. Everything.
Fetu came up to Nick and the big man had tears in his eyes. There were no words as the two friends embraced.
Nick stood and finally looked around him, taking in the extraordinary scenes as the crowd celebrated, strangers hugging strangers. He allowed himself to feel it all.
His moment.
His day.
His life.
His eyes searched for Anna’s in the crowd, and his heart filled with a fierce joy. Today he’d made her proud and made his country proud.
And most of all, he’d made himself proud.
Today, he’d won.
Today, he was undefeated.
Four-and-a-half years later . . .
“WELL, IT’S BEEN quite an astonishing few years for you, hasn’t it?”
Nick smiled brightly at the interviewer.
“By the way, congratulations on your MBE at Buckingham Palace—that’s a great honour. Nick Renshaw MBE! I believe that the Queen is a fan.”
Nick coughed with embarrassment.
“I don’t know about that, but it was an amazing day. I felt really proud. Yeah, it was a real honour.”
Nick relaxed back in his seat, one arm stretched along the top of the sofa. His crow-black hair glinted under the studio lights and his eyes danced with happiness.
“Not quite what you might have expected back in 2014 when you’d been dropped by your club at the time.”
“You could definitely say that, Jasmine.”
“How did it feel, playing in your testimonial match last week?”
“Wow, I’m not even sure how to answer that. Um, pretty amazing and humbling. I wasn’t expecting anything like that.”
He rubbed his beard thoughtfully, the salt-and-pepper colour adding a distinguished air to his appearance.
“Did you know that it was the largest number of fans at a rugby testimonial ever?”
Nick’s eyes widened and a slight flush brightened his cheeks.
“No, um, no. That’s news to me. Wow!”
“I think it’s a measure of just how much the fans love you. Isn’t that right, ladies and gentleman?”
The studio audience cheered and clapped, howling their appreciation.
Nick grinned widely and waved at the people who were there for him.
Jasmine smiled then gave a theatrical sigh.
“So, I have to ask . . . is this the end of Nick Renshaw’s rugby career? No plans to coach? Can you really just walk away from something that’s been your whole life?”
He gave a quiet chuckle.
“I’m retiring from rugby, not movin
g to Mars, Jasmine.”
“But you’re not going to coach?”
He shook his head, his dark hair flopping over his forehead.
“Not immediately, no. But never say never.” He gave a small smile. “I’ve been playing rugby for 24 years of my life, professionally for 16. I think it’s time to do something different now. I know that I’ll miss the banter with my friends and rugby mates. I’ll miss the pranks, team bonding, chatting with all the lads, taking the mickey out of each other.”
He paused.
“I’ve made some really good friendships through rugby, and the laughs I’ve had along the way are priceless, all good memories. Even the injuries I’ve sustained and come back from. It’s shaped me into the man I am today. I’m a strong, grateful, resilient person who is always chasing progress. I know who I am, my tough past shaped me into a better man. I don’t regret any of it. I’m grateful for it all. But, you know, my life is about more than just rugby. I’ve met an amazing woman that I want to share my life with.”
Nick glanced across, catching Anna’s gaze and seeing the love shining in her eyes.
The interviewer smiled coyly and leaned towards him.
“Do I hear wedding bells, Nick?”
He winked at her but didn’t answer. That was private, but it was also true that Anna was wearing a beautiful ring with three flawless diamonds. Each one represented a different stage in their relationship: the past, the present and the future.
After everything that had happened, he’d never thought he could trust another woman, but he trusted Anna with his life, with his soul and with his heart.
It was also true that they’d delayed plans for a wedding twice already, once when Anna’s mother was sick, and once again when they’d both been working crazy hours and Nick was travelling all the time. But now Nick was retired, yes, they had plans.
“I think you’ll be disappointing a lot of your female fans if that’s true.”
Sighing loudly, the reporter smiled at him and batted her eyelashes playfully.
“Nick, you’ve been one of the most successful England Captains ever, leading your team to a second World Cup earlier this year which has never been equalled before. You’re the fifth most capped player ever. Your retirement from professional rugby really is the end of an era. Is there anything you’d like to say to your fans?”
He nodded, his face serious.
“Yeah, there is.”
And he cleared his throat, staring right into the camera.
“Thank you doesn’t seem like enough words. You’ve been there for me through thick and thin. You’ve been there for me when I was down and felt defeated. You were there as I clawed my way back up, with your messages, thoughts and prayers; all the times people told me to fear nothing, to never give in. Maybe you think saying those words is a small thing, but it’s not, because it gave me hope when that was something in very short supply. You believed in me at a time when I didn’t believe in myself. And when I was honoured to play for England, I played those games for all of you with my whole heart. So, to all my fans and supporters, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Applause broke out in the studio and even the cameramen and sound engineers were cheering. Up in the producers’ booth, people were smiling and clapping.
As one, the studio audience rose to their feet, applauding a man who’d been down as far as it was possible for a human being to sink, standing in front of them, a true man, a leader of men.
Nick swallowed back the emotions that washed over him and glanced to the side of the studio where Anna stood.
She was wiping tears from her cheeks when he caught her eye. She smiled a watery smile and mouthed three little words: I love you!
And he knew, in that moment, he knew. He’d been a broken man, defeated when he met the love of his life. But now, the future was beautiful and it held no fear.
With his hand over his heart, he said the words she’d taught him so long ago:
When your world crashes down . . .
When they all say you’re out . . .
When your body is broken . . .
I will rise . . .
I will return . . .
And I will be undefeated.
THE END
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Jane & Stu
If you would like to read more about Nick and Anna, look out for the sequel Model Boyfriend when it comes out later on this year. For more news about Stuart and Jane’s books, sign up here—> Jane’s Newsletter Sign up
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JHB
“I have this idea for a book we could write together—a rugby romance! We’ll base it on your experiences of being a professional rugby player and, um, you know, romance!”
“Sounds great. But I’m not a writer.”
“Well, you can tell stories, so you can write.”
“Um . . .”
“What’s the biggest crowd you ever played in front of?”
“Old Trafford, 80,000 people.”
“Blimey!”
“Yeah, it was amazing.”
“Okay, well, write about that. Tell me what it felt like to walk out in front of that many people. What could you hear? What could you see? What was going through your mind?”
“I’ll give it a go.”
[Waits for message box to pop up, drums fingers, a day later . . . oh good, he’s done it. Reads text.]
“Oh wow!”
[Hair stands up on the back of Jane’s neck as she’s swept away by Stuart’s words.]
“Oh my God! That was sooooo good!”
“You think so?”
“YES!!!!”
“Okay.”
“No, not ‘okay’! It was fantastic! Honestly, the hair stood up on the back of my neck! Can you write some more like that?”
“Sure.”
And from that, our book was born.
Stu
I only got into the whole book world through becoming friends with Lynda Throsby years ago. Lynda got me into it, Lynda and Peter helped me set up my online fitness program, helped me really grow what I’m doing, and become organized. Without all of the above, I wouldn’t have met you and there wouldn’t be a book called Undefeated! So thank you Lynda :) you are a star.
Wanting to write, being a writer, it’s a lifelong lesson, and one that we’re still learning. But there are a number of people who have helped guide and sculpt this book. So we’ll start with these women, all amazing in their own rights, all different, all supportive.
From us
To Kirsten Olsen, our wonderful editor.
To Tonya Allen, beta reader and travel buddy.
To MJ Fryer, top gal and proofreader.
To the Reardonites and Stalking Angels for their love and loyalty
To Sheena Lumsden for behind the scenes support.
To Neda Amini of Ardent Prose for coordinating our book launch and so much more.
To Audrey Orielle and Dina Farndon Eidinger—special services to smut.
To all the bloggers who give up their time for their passion of reading and reviewing books—thank you for your support.
To our readers—you rock!
STUART IS A retired England International Rugby League player who’s career spanned 16 years as a professional playing for several top League clubs. He has had several major injuries that nearly ended his career just as in Undefeated, the amazing collaboration with Jane.
Currently he is a Personal trainer living in Cheshire, and has an online fitness program: Fear Nothing Fitness.
And if you’re wondering why the story is set in the world of Rugby Union rather than Rugby League, well, it’s simply that Uni
on is a much better known game, especially outside the UK.
Sorry to all the League fans out there!
Contact Stuart at:
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Sign up for Stuart’s newsletter HERE
I enjoy watching surfers at my local beach, and weaving stories of romance in the modern world, with all its trials and tribulations.
It’s been the best fun working with Stu on this story. More than fun, fascinating and enlightening, too.
I have friends in the military and it’s something very close to my heart. That’s why I support these charities:
www.felixfund.org.uk—the UK Bomb Disposal Charity
www.eodwarrriorfoundation.org—the US Bomb Disposal Charity
www.nowzad.com—helping servicemen and women rescue stray and abandoned animals in former and current warzones
And I really love to hear from readers, so all my contacts are below. Please do drop me a line.
Sign up for JHB’s newsletter here—> newsletter
The Traveling Series
All the fun of the fair . . . and two worlds collide
The Traveling Man (Traveling series #1)
The Traveling Woman (Traveling series #2)
Roustabout (Traveling series #3)
Carnival (Traveling series #4)
The Traveling Series (Boxed Set)
The Education Series
An epic love story spanning the years, through war zones and more . . .
The Education of Sebastian (Education series #1)
The Education of Caroline (Education series #2)
The Education of Sebastian & Caroline (combined edition, books 1 & 2)
Semper Fi: The Education of Caroline (Education series #3)
The Rhythm Series
Blood, sweat, tears and dance
Slave to the Rhythm (Rhythm series #1)
Luka (Rhythm series #2)
The EOD Series
Undefeated Page 32