I looked up from my glass, indignant. “For the record, this is a one-off. I don’t usually drip all over the furniture.”
Mom arched a brow. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” I said, gesturing vaguely at the cushions. “Most of the time, I’m perfectly civilized post-training. Today was just exceptional circumstances.”
Olivia tilted her head, lips twitching like she was enjoying herself far too much. It was the first time she’d met my eyes since last night, and my stupid heart decided to skip like it had just seen a match point.
“Exceptional circumstances?” Olivia said, voice all casual challenge.
I kept my expression neutral, even as that little jolt worked its way through my chest. I met her gaze evenly. “Ten kilometers run, pre-breakfast. I think I earned my spot.”
She leaned back, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. Still sounds like a towel situation to me.”
“You’re welcome to file a formal complaint.”
“Oh, I will,” she said, smirking now. “Might even get Amelia to co-sign it.”
I set my glass down deliberately. “You’re both welcome to try.”
From the corner, I caught Mom watching us with a subtle smile, pretending to be engrossed in her tea but clearly amused by the exchange. She said nothing, wisely choosing to let us have our fun.
Mom looked over at me. “What time are you heading to the academy?”
I leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know, what time are you getting there?”
“We’re heading in early,” she said. “Olivia’s joining the kids’ training block this morning.”
I gave a small nod, eyes flicking to Olivia for a beat. She didn’t say anything, just sipped her drink, gaze focused on something in the garden.
“Right, maybe I’ll get there earlier than one,” I said, dragging myself up from the chair. “I’ll go check on Dad now. I'll let you guys finish your breakfast. Text me if the schedule changes.”
Mom nodded. “Will do. And eat something real before you go. Not just coffee.”
I waved a hand behind me as I slipped back into the house. Olivia’s presence stayed with me longer than I expected.
Out in the garage, I found Dad crouched beside our bikes, wiping down the frames with a rag. He looked up and smiled. “Just giving these a quick clean before the next ride.”
I leaned against the doorway. “Didn’t expect you to be this meticulous.”
He chuckled. “Old habits. Plus, a well-kept bike rides better. You know that.”
I nodded, stepping closer. “Thought I’d see if you needed a hand.”
“Sure thing,” he said, handing me a rag. “Careful with the chain, it gets greasy.”
As I wiped the frame, the longing grew heavier inside me. I wondered if Dad could see it, the flicker of something I wasn’t ready to admit aloud.
He paused and looked at me with gentle eyes. “I can tell you miss it, Alex.”
I swallowed, nodding slowly. “I do. The feeling of pushing myself. It’s different from tennis, but it’s a part of me.”
He set the rag down and studied me thoughtfully. “What made you pick up the racquet when you were thirteen? You never really told me.”
I hesitated, a swirl of thoughts fighting inside me. Should I say it? Honestly, it sounded a bit funny, like blaming Olivia for my sudden tennis obsession. As if I just woke up one day and thought,'You know what? I’ll chase a tiny ball around a court because of her.'Yeah, right.
Dad smiled softly, his eyes kind. “Whatever the reason, it was yours, and that’s enough. Missing something doesn’t mean you’ve lost it, Alex. I’ll always back you, no matter what you choose.”
My chest loosened at his words. I managed a faint smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
