Nathaniel - Rules In Physical Form.

I line the coasters up first.

Five of them. Even spacing. No overlaps.

Poker night is supposed to be relaxed. After that, I measure the snacks: cut vegetables, low-carb crackers, high-protein, low-sugar dips.

Balanced. Sensible. Guaranteed success.

The MoneyJar goes in the middle of the table. Perfectly centred. Rules in physical form. Everyone equal. No arguments later.

I still have twenty minutes before they arrive, which I use productively—wiping the surfaces again, then vacuuming when I notice crumbs on the tiled floor I somehow missed the first time.

When everything is finally as it should be, I sit down for a moment and scan the room. Freya once told me I should buy scented candles. Cosy vibes, she called it.

The image of hot wax dripping onto my furniture makes my jaw tighten. A wave of nausea follows.

I stand up immediately and erase the thought.

The doorbell rings. I check the clock. Five minutes late. Unacceptable.

I open the door. Markus steps in first.

I hold out my hand and point to the doormat. “Wipe your feet first. Then place your shoes there.” I gesture towards the storage bench. “Your jacket goes above your shoes.”

“What a great start to a fun night,” Markus mutters, aggressively wiping his boots before lining them up and hanging his coat.

One by one, the others file in. When they’ve all entered the living room, I straighten the jackets and adjust the shoes—one clean line, top to bottom. Only then do I follow them.

They’ve already seated themselves.

“Drinks?” I ask, stopping beside the table.

Leo leans back in his chair. “A beer would be nice.” Jay grins. “Chilled Coke for me.”

“If you have it,” Leo adds, “coffee.” I stare at them.

“It’s a weekday,” I say. “No beer. No soda. And it’s after eight, so no coffee.” They burst out laughing.

Jerks.

“What do you have?” Kaiden asks, already unpacking the deck of cards like this is his house.

“Water,” I say. “Chilled or room temperature.”

“Oh, Nate,” Kaiden says, not even looking at me. “You really know how to entertain. Water and healthy snacks. Living the dream.”

“We’re always excited to come here,” Markus adds, reaching for a carrot— Our eyes lock. He retracts his hand.

I go to the kitchen, grab a bottle, and pour water into five glasses. I return and sit between Jay and Leo.

Leo twists the lid off the MoneyJar and sets it down with a deliberate clink. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s get started.”

Leo plays as the House. He always does.

“Texas Hold ’em,” Leo says, sliding two cards face down in front of each of us. I flip mine.

Queen of Spades. Nine of Diamonds. …Mediocre.

The community cards hit the table. No help.

I exhale through my nose. “I fold.” I push my cards forward. Leo taps the glass jar in the centre of the table.

“Yeah, yeah.” I pull a twenty from my wallet and drop it in.

The jar clinks, already half-full. End-of-year fund. Club upgrades. Something useful.

“What’s that?” Kaiden asks, eyes still on his cards, expression unreadable.

“First to fold pays,” Jay says smugly. He thinks he’s holding something good.

“All goes back to the club,” Leo adds. “Last year it paid for the refill water stations. Best decision we’ve made.”

“Still think Prague would’ve been better,” Jay mutters.

“This is a long-term investment,” I say. “Clearly superior.”

Jay rolls his eyes. Markus picks up the King of Clubs. Jay takes a Ten of Diamonds. The round moves fast. Kaiden wins with a straight. He lays the cards down without comment, though the faint smirk gives him away.

Leo deals again. Nine of Hearts. Ten of Hearts. Better.

Markus glances from his hand to Kaiden. “Heard you co-trained with Freya yesterday.” I stiffen—just slightly.

“Yeah,” Kaiden says. “She’s great. The kids adore her.”

“They always do,” Leo says. “She makes it fun.”

“She enjoys it,” Kaiden adds. “You can tell. Same energy as the kids.”

Jay leans back, sipping his water. “Nate, you remember co-training, right?”

I catch the grin he tries—and fails—to hide.

Kaiden looks up. “You co-trained?” There’s surprise there. Real surprise. But also something else. A quick recalculation.

“Yes,” I say.

I draw. Eight of Hearts.

“He got benched,” Leo says casually. I shoot him a warning look.

“And by benched,” Leo continues, unfazed, “I mean the parents’ board asked him to step away.”

“They overreacted,” I say.

“They didn’t,” Markus cuts in. “You added extra drills, post-training assignments, and handed parents personalised nutrition plans.”

Jay snorts. “Miss Lawrence’s face when you told her gravy was banned? Legendary.” I still don’t understand why that was controversial.

“It was clearly outlined,” I say. “On paper.” “That doesn’t sound awful,” Kaiden says slowly.

But his eyes flick—not to me. To the coasters. The perfectly centred jar. The healthy snacks.

“Nate was… intense,” Leo says.

“Repositioning kids mid-drill. Restarting exercises until they got it right. Pointing out mistakes after matches.”

“Constructive feedback,” I say.

“You told a ten-year-old his passes showed low commitment,” Markus says.

“They did,” I snap. “And I didn’t raise my voice.”

“You also didn’t smile,” Jay adds.

I look away. The tightness returns—the one I thought I’d packed away months ago.

I tried. I really did. I wanted them to reach their potential.

The parents wanted them to have fun. I genuinely believed those were the same thing.

“So that’s when they asked you to step back?” Kaiden asks. I sigh.

“You’d think,” Jay says. “But no. That came after the weekend trip.”

Three pairs of eyes turn to me.

I hate them all.

“Nathaniel planned the entire weekend in hour blocks,” Markus says. “No free time.” “Six-thirty recovery walks,” Jay adds. “Scheduled meals. No soda. No candy. No fun.”

“Lights out at eight,” Leo finishes.

“I don’t see the problem,” I say. “They agreed to it.”

Markus snorts. “None of them were going to say no to you, Nathaniel Chase — superstar.”

He tilts his head, not unkind. “They endured.” The word sticks.

Leo leans back, fingers drumming once against the table before he speaks. His voice is quieter now. Steadier.

“Look, Nate… you cared more than anyone.” I don’t look at him.

“You just forgot they were ten.”

The evening stretches on with wins and losses, the jar growing heavier with every clink of folded twenties.

By the time the clock edges towards 22:30, I stand and begin stacking the empty snack bowls, carrying them to the kitchen.

Glasses and bottles follow, one careful trip at a time. “Guess that’s our cue to leave,” Jay says, leaning back as I lift a coaster and wipe the surface beneath it.

“Always so subtle, our captain,” Markus adds, smirking.

They gather their jackets, call their goodbyes, and file out — boots, laughter, cold air rushing in and then gone.

I return to the kitchen.

I rinse each glass and bowl under hot water before placing them in the dishwasher — methodically, precisely.

“Why are you doing double work?” Kaiden asks from behind me. “It’s going to get clean in the machine anyway.”

I freeze for half a second. Why is he still here?

“I don’t want dirty dishes in the dishwasher,” I say, turning one glass in my hands. Why do I need to explain that?

“Right. Sensible,” Kaiden says. I catch the dry edge beneath it. Then, quieter, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with the youth teams.”

I stiffen. I thought we were past this.

“Yeah, well…” I shrug, scrubbing a glass under the tap. “Guess they’ve got someone new now.”

I glance at him. “Never thought you’d be into that kind of commitment anyway.” Kaiden steps closer. His arms uncross, his posture loosening — not defensive, not pushing.

“I want to belong,” he says. “For real this time. And give something back.”

“You already are,” I reply before I can stop myself. “It’s like you never left.”

Kaiden watches me rinse the glass like it personally offended me.

“Nathaniel,” he says, not unkindly, “can I ask you something without you bracing for impact?”

I don’t look at him. “You’re going to anyway.”

“Why are you still playing small?”

That gets me. I turn the tap off. Slowly. “I’m not.”

Kaiden tilts his head. “You are. You just dress it up as responsibility.”

I lean back against the counter, jaw tight. “They need me here.”

“No,” he says gently. “They benefit from you here. That’s not the same thing.” Silence.

“You train like someone who’s waiting for the next level,” Kaiden continues. “You think like someone already there. Eldermoor isn’t sharpening you anymore — it’s containing you.”

I swallow.

“If a big club called tomorrow,” he adds, quieter now, “you wouldn’t hesitate. You’d just be scared of what leaving would cost.”

I laugh once, sharply. “And you’re saying this out of the goodness of your heart?” Kaiden meets my eyes. No deflection. No edge.

“I’m saying it because you’re not meant to peak here,” he says.

A beat.

“And because I don’t want you shrinking yourself for comfort.” Silence stretches between us. Our eyes hold.

“You’re right,” I say finally.

Just enough to give him something. My jaw tightens.

“Don’t do that again.”

A pause.

“I go when I decide to go.” My fingers curl slightly at my side, grounding, steady.

“I’m not… shrinking.”

The word feels wrong in my mouth.

I don’t correct it. Kaiden nods once—no triumph, no pity.

He taps the doorframe lightly with his knuckles, then turns and leaves. The sound lingers longer than it should.

❤️ Maliyka ❤️