21. Alex Sebring
Chapter 21
Alex Sebring
The restaurant looms ahead, a cozy spot tucked between towering high-rises, its warm lighting spilling onto the street. As I walk through the entrance, a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension coils in my chest because I haven’t seen Kye in months.
Kye Bennelong. My former agent, my friend—one of the few people who knows me beyond the headlines and statistics. We are more than client and rep; we are mates. He was the first to see the fire in me, the one who fought like hell to make sure my career became more than potential. And I owe him for that.
As I weave through the path around the tables in the restaurant, I realize how much I’ve missed him. The easy camaraderie, the way Kye grounds me with a simple look, a joke, a well-timed kick in the ass when I needed it. Rugby gave me more than a career; it gave me an extended family. And Kye? He was a big part of that.
Maybe it’s because we share a unique understanding—me with my Samoan roots, and him with his Aboriginal heritage. I often feel like an outsider in certain circles, caught between cultures, never quite fitting into the mold the world has laid out for me. Kye understands that without me ever having to explain it. He understands what it’s like to walk into a room and feel you have something to prove—like you have to be twice as good to be considered equal.
I spot him before he sees me, sitting at a corner table, his head bent as he talks into his phone, his deep voice carrying over the soft hum of conversation. He’s always been larger than life, a towering presence in any room, an easy smile and a laugh that could shake the walls.
He hasn’t changed––broad-shouldered, sporting the same signature short fade hairstyle, dressed in a killer tailored suit.
Kye looks up, spotting me. His face splits into a grin, wide and welcoming, like no time has passed at all.
His phone is pressed to his ear, and he signals, the way he always has, to give him a minute.
“No, babe. I swear, I’m leaving as soon as Alex and I are done. Just keep everything… ready for me.”
Pause.
“Yes, I’ll bring your favorite sushi.”
Pause.
“I know salmon is full of omega-whatevers. Babe, I’m on it, all right?”
His jaw tics and he wears the strained look of a man clinging to his last thread of patience.
“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s the right time. The test said so.”
Kye’s gaze snaps to mine, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I’ll be there soon, all right? Just… light a candle or something.”
Pause.
A slow grin spreads across his face.
“Lucky me.”
I shake my head, smirking as I slide into the seat across from him. He hangs up and tosses his phone onto the table. “Marriage, mate. It’s a beautiful thing.”
I arch a brow, settling back in my chair. “Didn’t realize marriage came with sushi orders and omega-whatevers.”
Kye groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “It does when you’re trying to have a baby. Apparently, there’s a perfect time for everything, and my wife’s got it down to a science. Peeing on sticks, tracking charts, monitoring temps—you name it, she’s on it. And if I screw up the sushi order, I might as well not bother going home.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Never thought I’d see the day—Kye Bennelong, tied down and trading in late nights for early-morning feedings and nappies.”
“Oh, it’s happening, mate. Full speed ahead. My missus has me on a game plan tighter than pre-season training. But hey, at least the drills are fun.”
“The legendary Kye Bennelong––reduced to ovulation sticks and sushi deliveries. You are living the dream.”
Kye laughs, the deep sound filling the space between us. “Yeah well, I’m almost forty. It was a good run while it lasted.”
“A great run.”
His expression turns softer, more sincere. “Truth is I love it. Being a husband is great. Wouldn’t trade it for anything. Can’t wait to be a dad.”
Kye—one of the wildest blokes I’ve ever known—has slipped into marriage and family life like it’s the role he was born to play.
And me? My life has gone in the complete opposite direction.
I force a smile, reaching for the menu and flipping it open, hoping he doesn’t see the shadow that passes over my face. “If the agent thing doesn’t work out, at least you’ve got a promising future as an expert in fertility tracking.”
Kye chuckles. “That’s me, mate. A man of many talents.”
I nod, but my mind is elsewhere—drifting to everything that’s slipped away from me. But Kye has it figured out––a wife, a family in the making, a solid future.
And here I am, more lost than ever.
He flags down a server, ordering a round of old-fashioneds. Doesn’t ask what I want. He just remembers.
Some things never change.
“So, what’ve you been up to? Last I heard, you were taking the fancy hotel business by storm and living the good life.”
I shrug, offering a half-smile. “Living the good life––that’s debatable. It’s been fine, I guess. Keeping busy.”
He takes a drink of water while we wait on the good stuff. “You were always shit at lying, Sebring. Anything exciting going on in your life? Or is it all work and no play?”
“Does trying every old-fashioned in Sydney count as play?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Sounds thrilling.”
His eyes soften, and I see concern beneath his usual swagger. “You miss it?”
I know what he’s referring to, but I play dumb. “Miss what?”
He gives me a pointed look. “Come on, Sebring. The field. The game. The rush.”
“I miss it every damn day.”
Kye nods like he already knows the answer. “Figured as much.”
The old-fashioneds arrive, and Kye wastes no time diving into rugby talk. “Have you been keeping up with the boys? Seen how things are going without you?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I hear bits and pieces here and there, mostly from Nate.”
“I’m going to fill you in, but you got to keep this on the down-low.”
“Sure.”
“Your replacement isn’t working out.”
That’s unexpected. “I was under the impression that David was satisfied with him.”
He shakes his head. “Nah. Kid’s got talent, sure, but he’s no Alex Sebring.”
A strange mix of pride and regret tugs at me. “So what’s the plan? They looking to trade him?”
Kye nods. “That’s the word.”
My stomach knots. I shouldn’t care, shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it. “Please don’t say they’re looking at Tyson McRae.”
I brace myself for the answer.
Kye chuckles. “You’d rather set yourself on fire than see McRae in your jersey.”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t take that shit.”
Kye’s expression shifts into something more serious. “You don’t have to worry about that. They’re looking at you.”
I let out a short laugh, leaning back in my chair. “Good one, mate.”
But Kye doesn’t laugh. “I’m not kidding.”
The humor drains from my face. “I’m going to need you to explain what that means.”
“They want you back. Management’s been talking, and they’re interested.”
I blink, trying to process his words. It makes no sense. “They all know my injury never healed.”
Kye leans forward, his eyes locked onto mine. “But what if it could? What if your days on the field weren’t over?”
The weight of his words settles over me, and something stirs inside me.
Something dangerous––hope.
I look at Kye, searching his face for any hint that he’s having me on. But there’s nothing—just steady, unwavering certainty in his eyes.
A slow exhale leaves my lungs as I shake my head. “The ankle’s done. My playing days are over.”
The words taste bitter, even after all this time. Saying them out loud doesn’t make them any easier to accept.
Kye’s expression is unreadable. Then, that infuriating smirk of his spreads. “But what if those days weren’t over?”
I blink, surprised. “You’ve lost me.”
“Hypothetically speaking… if the injury was a non-issue, would you come back?”
No hesitation. “Of course I’d come back. I never wanted to leave. You know that.”
He nods. “That’s what I thought, but I wasn’t sure if you’d met the love of your life and moved on from it.”
I met the love of my life. And I lost her.
There’s a hollow space inside me that no amount of winning, no amount of moving on, will ever fill. You can’t patch up and forget some things. They carve their mark so deep that pretending you’re whole again just feels like lying.
I shake off the thought before it can drag me under. “Is there a point to this conversation about me returning?”
He grins, leaning back in his chair like he’s been waiting to drop this on me. “There’s a doctor in the States who specializes in sports medicine injuries, and he has a remarkable talent for Achilles repairs.”
“Kye—”
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Hear me out. This guy is a miracle worker. He’s getting athletes back to playing in record time, stronger than before. Your injury might be bad, but it’s not impossible. You just haven’t had the right medical team working on you.”
A war wages inside me.
The last surgery didn’t fix me. The rehab, the endless PT sessions, the hope—none of it was enough. And the risk of going through it all again only to end up back at square one scares the hell out of me.
“David is asking you to do this.”
“David?”
“He wants you back. Bad.”
David isn’t only the team’s owner—he’s the pulse behind it. Ruthless when he has to be, loyal when it counts. He doesn’t throw second chances around like confetti. If David’s asking for me, it’s because he believes I still have something worth fighting for.
“Think about it, Alex. You could have another chance.”
Something twists in my gut. “I have to think about this.”
“Go see the doctor for a consultation. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“The worst? I let myself hope for something that’s never gonna happen.”
Disappointments have dominated my life the last few years. I don’t want to go through another.
The last one almost killed me.
Kye’s gaze softens, and for a moment, he’s not just my agent—he’s my mate. “At least you would walk away knowing you tried everything.”
I nod, my mind already running in a dozen different directions. This could be something… or it could be nothing. But Kye’s words echo in my chest, steady and relentless.
What if there’s still a chance?
Kye turns up the last of his old-fashioned. “Want me to set up an appointment?”
“I guess a consultation wouldn’t hurt.” I play it cool, but it hits me harder than I want to admit.
Kye smirks, seeing straight through my bullshit. “Right. Just an inconsequential consultation. No big deal.”
He takes out his phone. “Any dates we need to work around?”
I shake my head, the answer coming too fast. “No.”
Nothing. No obligations. No one waiting on me.
“Claire. Hey, love. Do me a favor, and call Dr. Tate’s office first thing tomorrow and book a consultation for The Wall.”
He pauses, listening for a moment before adding, “The Achilles specialist in Dallas. Priority booking, whatever it takes to get Alex in with him ASAP.”
Dallas, Texas.
The United States.
The words hit me square in the chest. Texas is in the South. And Charleston…
How far is Dallas from Charleston?
My jaw clenches, annoyed at myself for even wondering it. Months have passed. I should be over this. Past her. But Magnolia’s never left my thoughts. She’s there always, woven into the quiet spaces of my mind.
Kye carries the confidence of a man who’s got life figured out. “Three years… I reckon you’ve got at least that much left in you if you get healthy again. I wouldn’t say that about just anybody. But you… you’re built different.”
Three years.
For the first time in a long while, something flickers inside me.
Three more years on the field. The roar of the crowd, the rush of adrenaline, the bone-deep satisfaction that comes from doing what I love most. It’s a future I hadn’t dared to consider since my injury.
It’s been two years. The road back won’t be easy—hell, it’ll be brutal. I’ll have to fight harder than I ever have, push my body past limits I haven’t tested in a long time. And even then, there’s no guarantee I’ll make it.
The idea gnaws at me, refusing to let go. The possibility that I’m not done yet.
I swirl the last sip of my drink, staring at the amber liquid as if it might offer some kind of answer.
Rugby would give me purpose, something to focus on besides the emptiness Magnolia left behind. If I can’t have her, this might be the next best thing.
“You get this surgery, you put in the work, and you’ll be back on the field. Trust me, when you’re out there again, everything else fades away.”
Everything else.
Magnolia.
The ache that never quite leaves me.
The thoughts that haunt me late at night when I’m alone with nothing but the weight of what could’ve been.
Kye’s unwavering belief in me stirs something in my chest. “It’d be good to play again.”
“Damn right, it would. You’re not done yet, Sebring. I know it. You know it.”
I let his words settle, rolling them over in my mind. He’s right. I’m not done yet.
For now, the thought of stepping back onto the field and getting that rush is enough to get me through another day. Even if it’s temporary, it’s better than nothing. And right now, I’ll take it.