She kissed the top of Sienna's head and held her. The morning was salt-scented and theirs.
17
SIENNA
Mara's office smelled of dog and coffee and the faint, institutional scent of arena carpet. Goldie lay in her usual spot beside the desk, her golden muzzle resting on her crossed paws, her tail giving a slow, thumping beat against the floor as Sienna sat down. The coffee Mara had poured was strong enough to strip paint, served in a chipped Valkyries mug, and Sienna wrapped both hands around it and let the heat seep into her palms.
"She's ready," Sienna said. "Full range of motion, strength testing passed, no instability. I've cleared her for contact."
Mara nodded. She was leaning back in her chair with her own coffee, her greying blonde hair pulled back, her blue eyes sharp and assessing as they always were before a game. The team sheet was pinned to the corkboard behind her, handwritten in Mara's looping script, and the changes were there. Lex's name in the starting lineup at centre. Elise's name below, on the bench. Sub.
"She'll come on in the second period," Mara said. "Give Lex the first, rotate them through the middle, let Elise find her feet. I don't want to throw her into a sixty-minute game after eight weeks off."
"That's sensible."
Mara's mouth twitched. She took a sip of coffee and set the mug down and regarded Sienna with an expression that Sienna couldn't quite read. Part professional assessment. Part affection.
"I want to say something," Mara said. "And I want you to hear it as a friend, not as your boss."
Sienna's stomach tightened. She kept her face neutral, the professional mask she'd perfected over years, but her fingers gripped the mug harder.
"I'm grateful to you," Mara said. "For getting Elise back. Not just physically. She's been different these last few weeks. Lighter. More present. The team can see it. I can see it." She paused. "And I know why."
Goldie's tail thumped against the carpet, slow and steady, indifferent to the enormity of the moment.
"Mara..."
"I don't need details. I don't want details. But I want you to know that I know what's going on between you and Elise, and it's not a problem. Not from me. Not from the club."
Sienna's breath left her in a rush she hadn't known she was holding. The relief was physical, a loosening across her chest and shoulders, the release of a tension she'd been carrying for weeks. She'd prepared arguments. She'd rehearsed justifications. She'd imagined this conversation going badly in a dozen different ways, and Mara was sitting across from her with warm blue eyes and a chipped mug and telling her it was fine.
"I was worried about the professional boundary," Sienna said. Her voice was steadier than she expected.
"I know you were. And I respect that you take it seriously. But Sienna, I'm dating a player. I am the absolute last person who is going to judge you for falling for someone on this team." Mara's eyes crinkled. "We're a mess, the lot of us. Beautiful, winning mess."
Sienna laughed. It came out shaky and relieved and she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. Goldie's tail thumped harder.
"Thank you, Mara. I mean that."
"Don't thank me. Just keep her healthy and happy. That's all I ask." Mara drained her coffee and set the mug on the desk with a firm clunk. "Now. We have a game to win. Let's go to work."
The medical room smelled of antiseptic and adhesive tape. Sienna's kit was laid out on the treatment bench: rolls of strapping tape, scissors, skin prep, foam padding. The ritual of it calmed her. She'd done this hundreds of times, for dozens of athletes, the muscle memory of her hands working independently of the noise in her head.
Elise walked in and the noise got louder.
She was already in her base layer, the compression top and shorts that had first scrambled Sienna's concentration in this exact room eight weeks ago. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, her jaw set, her eyes bright with the intensity she always got before a game. The number seventeen jersey hung over her arm.
"Hi, Doc."
The old nickname, the one she used when the medical room was a professional space. Sienna smiled.
"Sit down. Let's get you taped."
Elise sat on the treatment bed and extended her left arm. Sienna pulled her stool closer and began applying the skin prep, the cool liquid drying quickly on Elise's shoulder. Elise's pulse beat beneath her fingertips, fast and steady, and the skin beneath her hands was familiar.
"How are you feeling?" Sienna asked.
"Terrified." Elise said it flatly, without drama, as she said most things.
