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“Sorry, buddy. You know what I mean. You’ve done great, but it’s not a long-term solution.”
Lauren risked a glance at Carly, but her expression gave nothing away. No judgement, no reassurance. Just that same steady attention.
Eventually, Carly said, “My sister will do it.”
Paige and Lauren exchanged a look.
“She didn’t seem keen,” Paige replied.
“No, she’s not. Outwardly. But she’ll do it. Trust me, I know her.”
Jax looked impressed. “And can we hire you as our new centre-back too?”
Carly shrugged off the compliment, her smile warm rather than indulgent. “We’ll see.”
“Good enough for me. I’m counting that as a maybe, which is basically a yes around here.” Jax stood, taking her can with her. “Tell your sister to get in touch?”
Before anyone could reply, she’d disappeared back into the crowd.
Nobody spoke. Then the noise of the bar rushed back in around them—cutlery clattering, someone shouting for ketchup, laughter from the other side of the room.
Paige smiled. “Well. That escalated.”
“You just volunteered your sister for a job she doesn’t want,” Lauren said, still watching the space where Jax had disappeared.
“She will want it,” Carly replied simply, as if that was the end of it.
And maybe it was.
Lauren leaned back in her chair. Just like that, Carly had stepped into a gap, made a decision, and been taken seriously. No one softening it, or making sure everyone knew she was only filling in until someone better came along.
Lauren picked at the corner of a crisp packet, suddenly aware of how tightly she’d been holding herself together.
Temporarily.
She glanced sideways. Carly had already moved on, attention back on Paige as she asked something about the baby names again, like none of it had been a big deal.
Carly made being trusted look easy.
And for once, Lauren didn’t try to compete with that.
She just sat with it.
18
Carly
Polystyrene ceiling tiles only did so much to dampen the clang of steel overhead. Carly leaned on one elbow and pressed her palm to her ear, trying to concentrate on the spreadsheet in front of her: projected attendance, costs, break-even points, forecasted trials and discounts.
Beth’s work on the relaunch was solid, but it didn’t settle anything. They could plan down to the last protein bar, and they still couldn’t make anyone show up. They couldn’t make people care, or choose this place over the four other gyms within a ten-minute drive.
That part had always been her dad’s gift. He made things feel easy, like you wanted to be part of whatever he was building. Carly ran things. She didn’t draw people to them. She never had.
An hour later, she’d drafted and redrafted the graphics for the relaunch campaign at least seven times. They had sixty-eight Instagram followers. Six more than a month ago. Every post she’d made that week had rolled across the internet like virtual tumbleweed.
Just as she hit post on the latest attempt, her phone buzzed.
Samantha. Again.
