7. Chapter 7
Seren
The fact that this team wanted me was wild.
Not only had I not trained officially for over two years, but I also had to delay my morning training sessions because of dropping Cai at daycare.
They didn’t open until seven-thirty, which meant I’d miss most of gym time every day.
I would stay after everyone else went home to catch up.
But I can’t deny, I worried it would affect my bonding with the team.
“Most people run for the door the second we’re done.” A voice startled me as I racked the bar, breaths a little heavier as I turned around.
Lola stood a few feet away, a water bottle in one hand, the other resting on her hip. Her gaze flicked briefly to the bar, then back to me.
“I can’t make morning gym,” I said, wiping my hands on my shorts. “Daycare drop-off.”
She nodded once, like that told her everything she needed to know.
“Cai, right?”
The way she said his name—like she’d made a point to remember it—mattered to me. I had no idea how she knew his name, nor did I realize how important it was for someone here to know it.
“Yeah.”
“He settle in at daycare okay?”
I huffed out a tired exhale. “Eventually. Takes about ten goodbye hugs, but they keep sending me pictures of him playing on the app.” I left out the part where he’s so exhausted from all this new playing that when I collect him later, he’ll fall asleep in my arms. That despite how tired or sore my arms are, it’s one of my favorite moments of the day.
But also that I feel guilty I can’t spend more time with him now because I’m here.
Wow, motherhood was a rollercoaster ride of emotions that snuck up on me every time.
“I bet this last week has been a lot for you,” she said, perching on the bench near me with two dumbbells. “New town, new job, training, being a mom.”
It was a lot, and as much as I tried to just keep on, I was dead on my feet most evenings. As soon as Cai fell into bed, so did I. “Yeah,” I began, “but I’m also incredibly grateful to be here, and I want to make this work.”
Lola chuckled under her breath. “You don’t need to play that shit with me. I’m not going to report you to management. You can be real.”
I almost laughed at that. Being real was rough sometimes; being real meant showing the flaws that scared me, that I couldn’t say out loud.
What if I was honest and told her that this was the hardest phase of my life?
That balancing less alone time, guilt, the fear of failing, or not being good enough keeps me awake at night more than my toddler does.
Real had turned into responsible. Into keeping things together, always running on fumes. And this was only week one.
“Do you have any kids?” I asked, wishing I knew that ahead of the question.
“No,” she forced out with a push up of the weights.
She lowered them again, breath steadying before she continued. “If me and my girlfriend ever decide we want kids, I guess we’ll cross that bridge when it comes.”
I nodded, filing that away.
“I will say, neither of us are ready to give up sleep”—she smirked—“so, it probably won’t be for a while.”
I laughed, trying to remember what a full night’s sleep felt like.
“It’s the most rewarding and incredible thing becoming a mother.
But…honestly, it’s also an identity thief.
” God, even as the words fell out of my mouth, my throat closed up.
I loved my son, and I loved being a mother, too. “Forget I said that.”
Her mouth twitched, like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or take that seriously.
“An identity thief?” she echoed, lowering the weights with control. I wasn’t sure why she was here after training had finished. I knew why I was, but I guessed she had goals to reach. “Tell me more; I’d like to listen.”
My grip adjusted on the bar. The look she gave me was gentle, and it eased something inside me enough to say, “One day, you’re just you.
You know what you like, what you’re good at, how you move through the world.
And then suddenly, everything is filtered through this tiny human who depends on you for literally everything.
You don’t stop being yourself,” I went on, glancing at her, “but you kind of have to figure out who that is again. In a completely different version of your life.”
Lola sat up, resting her forearms on her thighs, head tilted to the side as if really digesting what I said.
“That sounds…intense.”
“It is,” I admitted. “It’s like—” I paused, searching for the right way to say it without dressing it up too much. “Like parts of you go into hiding for a while, kind of waiting until you have the space to find them again.”
“And this?” she asked, gesturing lightly around the gym, the weights, the empty space. “This is you finding it again?”
I followed her gaze, then looked down at my hands, at the chalk smudged across my palms, the faint tremor still lingering in my muscles.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Trying to.”
I gnawed at my lip, suddenly worried I’d shared too much, or not the right things. I had so much to prove being here; I didn’t want to make excuses for myself.
“Is it just you two?” she asked, and my lungs seized a little. “Sorry, that’s my nosey ass asking too many questions.”
“No, it’s fine. His dad is in the picture, but he travels a lot for work, so we see him sporadically. It’s tough, but we manage.”
I left out the rest of my life story and single motherhood. How the reason we weren’t together was very multi-faceted. Jobs, locations, priorities, the fact that we were never really together to begin with.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’ve smashed your first week.”
I blinked at her, caught off guard. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said simply.
“Thanks,” I managed, the honesty from her making my throat swell.
She gave a small nod, already tidying her weights away, stepping back toward the exit. “Don’t stay too long. You’ll feel it tomorrow.”
It wasn’t lost on me that she’d only lifted a few times and stayed less than twenty minutes.
The entire purpose of her being here maybe wasn’t to work out, it was to talk, check in, make me feel less alone in all of this.
It had worked. I was settling into some sort of routine and finding my place in a team again.
“And hey, we usually do beach days with teams, so you and Cai should come along.”
The invite was genuine, and I couldn’t remember the last time I got invited to anything, let alone with Cai.
“I’d like that.”
I was smiling to myself as she left, moving on to finish my set, pushing through a quick-fire circuit, barely giving myself time to think between movements.
By the end of it, my muscles were shaking, my lungs burning, sweat dripping down into my eyes as I dropped flat onto the gym floor, sprawled out on the mats when my brother walked in and stood above me with his usual frown.
This was the first time in a few days I’d seen him, both of us busy with training and me with Cai.
“Leave me. Save yourself; I’m too far gone,” I puffed out, flinging my arm over my eyes.
He looked around the empty gym, then back down at me. “You’re still here?”
“Obviously,” I said, gesturing vaguely at my current state of collapse and a little put out that he didn’t respond to my dramatics.
“Nobody else is.”
“Also obvious.”
Nate’s jaw tightened slightly, that familiar line of concern settling in. “You don’t have to do extra.”
I huffed out a breath. “I kind of do.”
“You don’t,” he said, firmer this time.
I turned my head to look at him properly. “I’ve missed two years, Nate.”
“And you had a baby,” he shot back immediately, like that alone should end the conversation.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, glaring at him.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to decide how hard to push this.
“Seren—”
“I’m not giving up,” I cut in, sitting up properly now, even if my body very much disagreed with the decision.
“I know, that’s not you. That’s not what I’m saying.” His deep frown morphed into something softer. “I just want to make sure you aren’t overdoing it.”
“I’m good, I promise.” It was mostly the truth.
I was so damn tired, I dropped into my bed as soon as Cai did at night, but I expected that.
I knew the stronger I got, the better I’d feel and my energy would return.
I also needed to remember to eat more regularly now that I was burning this many calories.
At some point, I’d be able to have a social life.
“Can I ask you something that isn’t rugby related?”
“Sure.”
“It’s about Jake.”
He blinked a few times. “Jake? Why?”
I wasn’t good at talking about guys with Nate since he loved to pull the protective brother card.
He did it with Derek, Cai’s dad, the first time they met, so this was a little out there for me.
“I met him at a coffee shop before I started here, and he was really sweet. He bought me coffee, and I don’t know, I guess I just wondered if he was—”
“What the hell? He didn’t tell me.”
My eyes narrowed on his interruption. “Is he supposed to keep you informed of everything he does?”
He rushed his hand across his bun, tugging it a little. “No, but—” He huffed, cutting himself off. “Did he know who you were?”
“He does now. I saw him in the hallway yesterday, too.”
He cursed under his breath. “I don’t want to talk about you and Jake because it won’t be happening.”
This guy. This freaking guy. My head reared back. “Excuse me?”
I shot him a fiery look. “What’s your problem? Is it Jake, or is it because I’m asking about him? Which, by the way, I haven’t even asked a damn question yet.”
“He doesn’t do relationships.” Nate shook his head. “Definitely not the kind that involves kids.”
There was a little arrow that shot into my heart at that because I purposefully hadn’t dated since Cai. I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone with my heart, let alone my son’s, plus time was a limiting factor in my life. It was something I had no idea how to navigate.
“This isn’t—”
“I know you think it’s nothing.” Stepping closer now, his voice dropped. “But you don’t know him like I do. He isn’t a commitment kinda guy.”
“How do you know I want commitment?” I snapped. I didn’t mean to tell my brother that maybe I was looking for some fun, but I guess I’d just done that.
I wasn’t na?ve to think Jake would want serious anyway. Who wanted the baggage of a single mom and her kid when they could literally pick anyone else?
Nate’s gaze held mine, and he was not happy. “Are you saying you want to sleep with my teammate?”
“I think I’m an adult and I can do what I want,” I insisted, the words biting out, something in me bristling. “And even if I didn’t, that’s still my call to make, not yours.”
Nate’s expression hardened. “Seren—”
“No.” Pushing to my feet properly this time, I ignored the wobble as I moved. I hated feeling backed into a corner. “You don’t get to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Dad me, but act like a child,” I shot back, gesturing between us. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me like I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” I pressed, my voice rising in the empty gym.
“Have I not proved to you that I’m capable of handling myself?
I’ve been doing this on my own for over two years, Nate.
Every decision, every bad night, every time Cai gets sick or won’t sleep or I don’t know what the hell I’m doing—I handle it. Me.”
He flinched slightly at that, but I was too far into it now to stop.
“So don’t come in here and start telling me who I can and can’t be around like I’m being reckless,” I added, my chest tight, breaths still uneven from the workout and now from this. “I’m capable of knowing my own limits.”
“I’m trying to protect you,” he said, exhaling. “Since Derek can’t be around much—”
“No,” I fired back, cutting him off. I didn’t want to hear it. “I don’t need protecting.”
The gym door creaked open behind him.
“Oh shit, am I interrupting…” Jake asked, his face sheepish.
Nate closed his eyes briefly, like he’d been personally tested by the universe.
I turned around to face him, heart kicking a little faster, not entirely from the argument.
Jake stood just inside the doorway, gym bag slung over one shoulder, gaze flicking between us, taking in the tension like it was written across both our faces.
“Yes,” Nate said flatly.
“No,” I said at the exact same time.
Jake’s mouth twitched. “Conflicting feedback. Should I leave, or…?”
“No,” I said again, stepping around Nate this time, refusing to let him control the situation. “You can stay.”
“Seren,” Nate warned.
“What?” I challenged, turning back to him. “If you won’t ask questions, I’ll just ask him myself.” I absolutely didn’t have the guts to do that, but Nate didn’t need to know.
Jake slid the backward cap off his head and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “I feel like I’ve missed several key details here.”
“You have,” Nate muttered.
I crossed my arms, lifting my chin slightly. “Apparently, Nate controls my social life now.”
Jake’s head tilted, a slow grin forming. “That so?”
“Because,” Nate grumbled, his tone tight, “Jake, you don’t do relationships. It doesn’t look good on Ser—”
“Whoa,” Jake said, holding up a hand now, glancing between us. “How do you know I don’t do relationships?”
Nate paled. “I just meant that you don’t wanna settle. Am I wrong?”
Jake didn’t answer, but I also didn’t let anyone else say anything. “Nate, if I want to spend time with Jake,” I added, the words coming out before I could second guess them, driven more by stubbornness than anything else, “then I will.”
There was a beat.
Then Jake’s grin returned, those dimples showing off like paid actors. “Well. That works out nicely for me.”
Nate made a noise of disbelief, but now that I’d said it, I wasn’t backing down.
I stepped forward, closing the space between me and Jake, and before my brain could catch up with my mouth, I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his.
His eyebrows lifted slightly, surprised, but his grip tightened immediately.
“Come on,” I said, tugging him toward the door.
“Really—” Nate started, nearly groaning with frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I’ll see you later,” I called over my shoulder, not stopping.
Jake fell into step beside me easily, his hand warm around mine.
“Wow,” he murmured as he glanced down at our hands, then back at me.
“Yeah,” I agreed, adrenaline pumping my legs toward the exit. I just needed to get outside before I collapsed.