Kaiden - Standing A Bit To Close.

I was so caught up with work at The Old Mill that I read Freya’s messages later than planned. Two families who had offered to carpool cancelled, leaving us short on rides for the kids.

I texted Freya to let her know I could drive and take three children. I couldn’t help but regret that driving alone or just with Freya was no longer an option—I’d been looking forward to time with her, and now I felt a bit unsettled by the change.

Thankfully, my job doesn’t require me to be physically present; I can log in from anywhere. That means I can leave early and plan to make up any lost hours tonight.

After changing into casual clothes at home, I arrive at the club to find the team already gathered in the parking lot. Freya is busy pulling the twins apart from a squabble.

She’s in blue shorts and an oversized Eldermoor hoodie, pulling the twins apart like she’s done it a hundred times—quick, efficient, already two steps ahead of them.

I catch myself watching longer than I mean to.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to smooth it to the side, my legs suddenly heavy as I approach. When she sees me, her smile is instant, her nose turning up the way it always does.

“Everyone ready to kick some ass?” I ask, trying to set a high-energy tone. The twins, Charlie and Clayton, shout, “Yes! Just like the ball—I’m going to kick it so much.” Clayton’s nasal, lisping voice makes him stand out. The rest of the kids join in, and by the time we’re heading to the cars, the excitement is contagious.

Clayton quickly claims the passenger seat. Freya just shrugs and says, “Eldermoor rules,” taking the back seat behind Clayton. Her familiar scent fills the car. Outsmarted by an eleven-year-old, I can only laugh as we set off.

Clayton talks nonstop the entire ride—about last year’s World Cup teams and players, rattling off stats and opinions. We end up in a heated debate, neither of us willing to budge. Every so often, I catch her in the rearview mirror—laughing, relaxed—like none of this is complicated at all.

When Clayton ends another passionate rundown with his signature, “Fact!” Freya chimes in with him, both of them grinning.

I can’t help but smile, catching glimpses of her when she’s not looking.

“Here it is,” Charlie announces from the back, tapping on the window.

The club is situated at the edge of town, adjacent to a stretch of new construction. The sound of heavy machinery grows louder as we park across the street.

Freya grabs her bag from the back, dropping it on my car’s hood, and starts digging through it. I have to resist flinching, worried the dangling keychains might scratch the rental.

“Here for you,” she says, pulling out an Eldermoor hoodie nearly identical to hers and handing it to me. “Now we match.”

I turn it over, seeing the same embroidery and the word Trainer stitched across the back. For a moment, I just look at it. Something about being handed one so casually—like I already belong here—lands heavier than I expect.

“Try it on!”

I pull it over my shoulders, adjusting the sleeves and testing the fit. The fabric is warm, well-worn in the way club gear only gets after years of use.

Freya steps closer without hesitation, standing on her toes to pull the zipper up properly after I miss the track the first time. Her hands smooth the fabric flat against my shoulders, focused entirely on fixing the hoodie rather than on how close we are.

“There,” she says, stepping back to inspect her work. “Now you look official.” I glance down at the crest stitched over my chest. Eldermoor.

Not temporary. Not visiting. Part of it.

Before I can respond, Noah shouts from behind us, “Coach Kaiden! Let’s go or we’ll be late!”

Mia sidles over immediately, grinning as she looks between Freya and me. “Yeah, you two can make googly eyes after the game,” she teases, making the others burst into laughter.

I snort quietly, shaking my head as Freya ducks down to straighten her bag, pretending the comment didn’t happen.

But the joke lingers longer than it should. Not because of her. Because Nathaniel would hate hearing it. The thought arrives instantly, sharp enough to surprise me.

I remember the way his arm rested around her after training, familiar and effortless, the way the entire club already seems to place them together without question. Whatever this is between them, everyone else has accepted it long before either of them managed to define it.

I fall into step behind the kids as we head toward the pitch, pulling the sleeves down over my wrists.

We guide the children inside, the team buzzing with excitement, and meet up with the opposing coach and the referee. Freya hands over the paperwork, the list of who’s playing today, and starts chatting with the other trainers.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Freya,” says the brown-haired trainer, laying his hand on Freya’s arm so casually it makes my jaw clench and my stomach twist. He leans back, eyes flicking down her back with an approving grin. He has to be at least ten years older than us; the faded mark of a wedding ring still lingers on his finger.

I want to step in, but Freya shrugs his arm off herself before I can move. “Have you met my co-trainer?” she says, turning with an inviting gesture in my direction. She doesn’t look fazed by him at all, at least outwardly.

I step up, raising my hand. “Kaiden.” As our hands meet, I seize the moment and squeeze, hard enough to make him clench his jaw and press his tongue to his teeth. “Pleasure.”

He shifts on his feet, clearly trying to get the upper hand, but I increase the pressure, watching his eyes widen and his knuckles almost go white.

“Let’s get started then,” Freya says briskly, breaking the tension.

I wait until he folds and his hand goes limp in mine before letting go, granting him a polite, charming smile. “Let’s have a fair game.”

As Freya and I leave the clubhouse, I catch the other trainer massaging his hand, trying to get the blood flowing again. I can’t help but smile.

We’re nearly to the pitch when I spot the other trainer—brown-haired, cocky, already joking with his team. The memory of his smug handshake flashes through my mind, and something twists inside me. Just this once, I want to wipe that smirk off his face.

Noah and Clayton jog up, their eyes shining with a mix of excitement and nerves. I gather the rest of the kids, forming a circle around Freya and me. I crouch down to their level, and Freya does the same, dropping my voice low as if we’re letting them in on a secret.

“Listen up, everyone. We’ve trained our butts off for this. I want you to give it your all and show them what Eldermoor is made of,” I say, nodding toward the other team.

“Play with heart. Play for each other. Make them remember our names,” Freya adds, her voice matching my determination.

I grin. “Do that—win or lose—and ice cream’s on me after. Deal?”

“Deal!” the kids shout in unison. I catch Freya smiling at me. “Nice touch. Nothing motivates like ice cream.”

“If you do your best coaching, maybe I’ll even add sprinkles,” I joke.

She laughs, “Wow, sprinkles on top. Now that’s something to look forward to.”

The whistle blows, and as the kids sprint onto the field, I catch the other trainer’s eye. He grins, all confidence.

Fine. Let him smile now.

Because today, I’m not backing down.

❤️ Maliyka ❤️