I hesitated, fingers tightening around the cup. “It’s not that simple, Cass. I… I don’t want to distract her. She’s focused, building her career, giving everything to tennis.”
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Alex… you leave triathlon for her.” Her voice had that quiet edge, the kind that cuts without shouting. “And for what? At least make it mean something. Don’t just… leave us behind without anything real to show for it.”
There was disappointment there, but also something harder like resentment, maybe even fear.
My eyes flicked toward Olivia’s team, huddled together in a quiet meeting, their heads bent over charts and schedules, completely absorbed in the moment.
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “I’m just… careful. She’s focused, and I don’t want to mess that up.”
I let myself breathe, remembering the bond me and Cassandra once had, and the courage it had always given me. The memories were sharp, bittersweet, but they also reminded me of what I was capable of.
Cassandra’s voice cut gently through my reverie. “Your Dad… he mentioned something about you going back?” She leaned forward, curiosity softening the edge of her tone.
“Yeah… I’ve been thinking about it. I need points, ranking… everything to qualify for the Olympics. It’s insane, starting over, but I want to see if I can still do it.”
She smiled faintly, almost knowingly. “You were always too stubborn to let anything stop you. If anyone can jump back in and make it work, it’s you.”
I let a small laugh escape, the tension easing just a little. “It’s going to be my first ever Olympics qualification. If I’m lucky… maybe we’ll be competing again, but this time on the Olympic stage.”
“Then make it happen, Alex. You’ve dreamed of this for years. Don’t let anything hold you back.”
“You know me, I won't hold back this time.”
She gave a wry shrug, a hint of her old teasing in her tone. “I can’t guarantee anything. But… if you want, we can train together again. Just like the old times. Catch up on lost ground, push each other.”
A mixture of surprise and relief washing over me. “You’d… train with me again?”
She smirked. “Why wouldn’t I? Just don’t expect me to go easy on you. Old times or not, I still want to win.”
I laughed softly, the tension in my chest loosening for the first time in hours. “Fair enough. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
We exchanged numbers, and after a brief teasing scowl, she even unblocked me on Instagram. A small, silly thing, but it felt like a bridge back to everything we’d lost over the years.
Sitting there, I realized how much I’d missed this: the shared history, the sense that someone truly understood me. We weren’t just planning training sessions or chasing points; we were reconnecting as friends, as partners, as the team we used to be.
CHAPTER 16
OLIVIA
Stepping onto the Arthur Ashe Stadium, the roar of the crowd washed over me in waves. This wasn’t just another match. This washer. Alex. And for the first time, we were on opposite sides of the net in a real tournament.
Across the net, she was already moving lightly on her toes, her eyes scanning the court, settling for a brief moment on me. And for an instant, the rest of the stadium disappeared. My chest fluttered, my stomach knotted, and I had to consciously exhale to keep from crashing.
Focus, Liv. Focus.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, taking in the familiar smells of hardcourt and sunscreen, the tension of a stadium packed with tens of thousands.
I jogged to the center, taking my first real look at her up close. Alex’s hands were on her hips, and her usual calm composure seemed slightly off. There was a flicker of tension in her shoulders, a subtle tightening of her jaw. She’s nervous too, I realized, and the thought both grounded me and added a new weight of responsibility.
The umpire held up the coin. “Call it.”
“Heads,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. The coin spun, caught by the umpire, and landed. “Heads it is. Smythe, you’ll serve or receive?”
“I'll Serve.”
The umpire asked Alex if she was okay to receive and she nodded. I also nodded suppressing a small surge of adrenaline, and jogged back to the baseline. Ball in hand, racquet poised, I tried to settle into the rhythm I knew so well. Across the net, Alex bounced lightly on her toes, eyes locked on me.
We started with the usual warm-up, easy rallies back and forth, just enough to loosen shoulders and find rhythm. The sound of the ball skimming the court fell into its own steady beat, a quiet prelude before things sharpened.
