6
The ferry docked just after noon, the hull groaning softly as it kissed the wooden pier.
Noah slung his bag over his shoulder and climbed onto the wharf, breathing in the sharp salt air that always smelled like home.
His parents’ house sat just beyond the dunes.
It was a modern cedar-and-glass cottage perched above the beach, wide windows catching the pale southern sun, solar panels gleaming on the roof. It wasn’t flashy, but it was solid.
Built with intention by him and his father almost a decade ago, despite having enough money to hire someone to build it for them. Something about humility and grounding himself, he recalled.
The front door barely had time to open before his mother wrapped him in a tight hug.
“Look at you,” she said, pulling back to cup his face. “Still too thin.”
“I’m literally paid to be large, Mum.” Noah deadpanned.
His dad stood behind her, arms crossed, a familiar half-smile tugging at his mouth, the same expression that once stared down international opponents in his own black kit, and the same expression that Noah inherited.
“I’m bringing back the piupiu,” he said, handing his mother the bags.
Inside, the house buzzed with movement. His older sister, Mara, leaned against the kitchen counter scrolling on her phone, while his younger sister, Isla, sprawled dramatically across the couch.
“What are you doing here?” Mara asked.
“What are you doing here, Mara?” Noah responded. “Don’t you have a job or something?”
“Don’t you have a job or something?” Mara mocked.
Noah practically skipped into the kitchen, being lured by the smell of supper. “Real mature,” he said dryly while flipping her the bird.
Dinner barely made it onto the table before his dad cleared his throat.
“So,” he said, eyes sharp with pride he tried not to show. “International season. Big jump. You think the boys are ready?”
Noah shrugged, reaching for the bread. “We’ll do well. We’re better than people think. Strong pack. Good leadership.”
His father nodded once with approval.
Noah’s mother, a short Māori woman, wore her dark hair threaded with silver in a loose braid most days, practical yet gentle.
Years of raising three children and supporting a professional athlete husband had given her quiet strength: capable hands, calm patience, and an instinct to nurture without smothering.
“I just don’t know why you have to be so far away,” she whined to Noah.
He tries to reassure her. “I’m just on the North Island, Mama.”
“All our babies are leaving us, Tahu,” she said to her husband, reaching out her hand to him. He grabbed her outstretched hand and gave it a squeeze before looking at his three children. “No. Go. Please go. Spread your wings. Fly.”
Noah was smiling with amusement and kept eating the food piled high on his plate.
His mum, however, frowned slightly. “Just don’t hurt yourself,” she said softly. “There’s no one close by to fix you.”
“There is now,” Noah replied casually.
“A new team doctor?” Mara asked. “What, some old dag with a clipboard?”
“Better than no one…” his mother chimed in under her breath.
“No,” Noah said, a small smile betraying him. “She’s a woman.”
The room went very quiet. Both sisters looked up at once.
“Is she young?” Isla asked.
“Around my age,” Noah responded.
“What’s her name?” Mara asked.
Noah didn’t answer. He didn’t like where the line of questioning seemed to be going.
Then Isla lunged for her phone. “Name. Now.”
Noah hesitated. “Why?” He asked suspiciously.
Both girls just stared at him as if he was ridiculous for asking such a stupid question. They look at each other then back at Noah. “To look her up…” Isla responded.
“Duh,” said Mara.
“Dr. Claire Ashford.”
Two sets of fingers flew across screens.
“Where is she from?” Isla asked looking back up at Noah.
“From London, I think…”
She tapped the phone. “What was her last job?” Isla asked.
Noah looked at them with disbelief. “I don’t fucking know! How can I possibly know that informat— “
“Language,” said their father.
“Is that her?” Asked Isla, turning the phone to face Noah.
Claire was on the screen.
“Yes…”
There was silence from the two girls. More tapping. Isla showed Mara whatever was on the phone screen.
“Oh my —” Mara’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s stunning.”
“And smart,” Isla added, scrolling. “Sports medicine. Wow.”
There was silence while the girls stalked the internet for the new doctor.
“The answer is Los Angeles, by the way” Isla said to Noah. “She worked for the Los Angeles Harriers.”
“I don’t know what this is…” Noah admitted.
“American football…” Mara responded as everybody knows this. “Jeez, so you really only breathe rugby, huh?”
Then Isla’s face shifted. “Wait… oh no.”
Mara leaned over. “What?”
“Her fiancé cheated on her. Ibiza. Model. Public disaster.”
“Is her fiancé famous?” Mara asked.
“Ex-fiancé, and he’s… oh my God,” she gasped.
“Who is it?” Mara asked again.
“It’s Jason Markey,” Isla said to the group.
An audible gasp came from Mara’s mouth. She quickly covered it with both her hands. “No. Way,” she said in disbelief.
“I don’t know who that is,” Noah was confused now, and a little irritated at the lack of information he was getting from his sisters.
Isla tapped her phone and pushed it in front of Noah’s face. On the screen was a professional sports shot of a blonde, white man with a short blonde beard. There was nothing remarkable about him in Noah’s opinion.
“A guy like that can pull a model?” His dad asked.
“A guy like that? A guy like that?” Isla asked her dad.
She tapped the phone furiously and brought up a new picture of this Jason person.
It was him shirtless in what seemed to be a center spread of a sports magazine.
She swiped. A new picture of him in a suit.
She swiped. On a beach in a bathing suit stippling abs exposed.
“A guy like that can pull anyone, papa,” Mara said.
Their mother’s expression softened instantly. “Oh, that poor girl,” she murmured. “Imagine trusting someone with your whole future and having it shattered like that. A civilian too. Not even in the spotlight.”
Isla scrolled another picture and it was of Claire and Jason together at a cafe, then Claire dressed in formal wear for what was assumed to be the American football drafts, then Claire walking with crying eyes through an airport.
Noah didn’t say anything. He stared at the pictures Isla was showing him. He didn’t know how he felt about it. Seeing a woman, like Claire, so vulnerable. She couldn’t have suspected her life going this way. She looked so… sad.
Isla grinned slowly. “Why do you keep staring like that?”
“I’m not—” Noah started.
“Do you like her or something?” Isla said teasing. “Ooh! Maybe you can marry her.”
Mara laughed. “Mum would approve. She has always wanted a doctor in the family. I swear she’s sick of athletes.”
“She needs a proper intellectual,” Isla agreed.
“We wouldn’t want poor Dr. Ashford to be mixed up with another emotionally unavailable athlete though.” Mara said, referencing her brother.
“It wouldn’t make us very good ‘girls-girl’s’, ya know?”
“Agreed.”
Their mother smiled knowingly. “I just want someone kind for you.” She kissed Noah on the forehead.
Noah finally looked up smiling at his mum, trying not to let his thoughts wander from his family. “Don’t worry mama, a doctor – especially that doctor, will never be interested in a guy like me.”
But the faint heat creeping into his ears told them everything.