Games, Sweat, and Breakthroughs

Thank fuck, I thought. The guys were finally beginning to become a team.

The players, the coaches, and I started cleaning up the games. The turf still smelled faintly of turf spray and sweat, the air cooling as evening crept in. The board games and cards were scattered across the low tables, and the sound of laughter mixed with the rustle of pieces being boxed up. I bent down to stack a few of the heavier boards into a crate while Jason Ryan folded a table nearby.

“Careful with that,” I said, nodding toward a wobbling tower of game boxes in his arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, grinning. “Wouldn’t want to be the guy who drops ‘Guess Who.’”

“That’d be a tragic legacy,” I said dryly.

The players were quieter than usual, more focused. A few of them were still joking, but the kind of joking that carried the ease of people who’d finally gotten comfortable with each other. Charlie appeared from the tunnel, hands shoved in his pockets, watching us with an expression halfway between amusement and pride.

“You’ve got them cleaning now?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Teamwork comes in all forms,” I said, dragging a garbage bin closer. “Besides, I wasn’t about to do this alone.”

He smirked. “Efficient and ruthless. You haven’t changed.”

“Someone has to keep order,” I said, tossing in a handful of paper cups.

Jason Holland gave me a crooked grin as he rolled a bin toward the back doors. “He’s gonna let us play these again, isn’t he?”

“If you earn it,” I said, grinning back.

“Figures,” Jason Ryan said, chuckling as he shoved the bin toward the dumpsters outside.

We worked for another twenty minutes, hauling garbage, stacking chairs, and clearing the last of the tables. The sound of wheels clattering on concrete echoed through the hall as several of the guys dragged the massive garbage cans toward the back exit. I followed with Charlie beside me, both of us pushing the heaviest one together.

“Remind me to never underestimate your ability to command an army,” he said.

“Noted,” I said. “And they’re not an army. They’re just learning how to act like one.”

Charlie chuckled. “Semantics.”

Once the last bin lid slammed shut behind the building, the players clapped each other on the back and drifted toward the showers, leaving the turf spotless. The coaches lingered a bit longer, making sure the storage closet was locked.

I leaned against the railing and looked down over the turf. “You know,” I said to Charlie, “I think we actually made progress today.”

He followed my gaze. “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”

The players and coaches filtered away toward the locker rooms, laughter echoing faintly off the concrete walls. When the last of them disappeared, Charlie stayed back with me.

“I’ve got the condo keys,” he said, pulling an envelope from his jacket. “Everything’s sorted except moving your things over.”

I checked my watch. 5:15 p.m. “Fridge running?” I asked. “Cold?”

“Running and stocked,” he said. “Put in some fruit, water, and a few meals. Thought you’d appreciate not having to grocery shop tonight.”

I smiled faintly. “You always did think ahead.”

“Couldn’t help myself,” he said.

I adjusted the strap on my tote bag. “Would Cathal be around to help with my bags?”

“He’s done for the day,” Charlie said. “But I’ve got my SUV out front. Your luggage is in the security office. I’ll help you carry the food down.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “You really didn’t have to.”

He gave a small shrug. “I wanted to.”

We headed up to the office, where a rolling cart waited beside the desk. Charlie loaded the trays of food onto it while I grabbed a cold water bottle from the fridge.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, passing him an extra water. “You’ll need this.”

The elevator ride down was quiet. The hum of the cables and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights filled the space. When the doors opened, Margeaux was waiting by the loading dock, leaning against a cart.

“Evening,” she said. “You two heading out?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Mind if we borrow this until morning?”

She smiled. “Go ahead. Bring it back whenever you’re in tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Margeaux,” I said, shaking her hand.

Charlie and I loaded the trays carefully into the SUV. My tote went up in the passenger seat with me. Margeaux gave a short wave as Charlie started the engine. The drive was short, the kind of easy silence that comes from years of knowing when not to talk.

When we reached the condo, he parked and turned off the ignition. “Let’s get this over with before you crash,” he said.

We carried the food in first, then went back for the luggage. After three trips, everything was inside. I leaned against the counter, breathing out slowly. The condo smelled faintly of cleaning solution and new paint.

Charlie stood nearby, watching me. “Does anyone know about our past?”

“The Jasons do,” I said. “They know we fucked constantly years ago. That’s it. They don’t know about the miscarriages.”

He nodded once. “I’ll talk to them anyway. Just to remind them about confidentiality.”

“Don’t,” I said. “If you bring it up, they’ll realize you know that they know. I’ll handle it tomorrow.”

He considered that, then nodded again. “All right. Your call.”

He handed me the condo key. “Barb has the spare. Everything’s squared away.”

“Thanks, Charlie. For all of it.”

He gave a faint smile. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve done more for this team than anyone else.”

He took a small step closer, hesitated for half a second, and then kissed me softly. It wasn’t long — just enough to stir old memories.

“Charlie,” I said quietly. “That has to be the last time.”

He nodded. “I know. It just felt right to say goodnight.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “But no more.”

He nodded again, his eyes steady on mine. “Take care of yourself, Deppgrl.”

“You too,” I said.

He left without another word, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

I stood for a moment in the silence, then went straight to the shower. The water was hot enough to sting, washing away the sweat, the dirt, and the long but fun day. My thoughts drifted — Vic, Charlie, the players, Scott, and then inevitably, Ronan.

Charlie and I had burned bright but brief. What we had before was fun, maybe even needed, but it was never built to last. I thought about texting him, telling him I’d be heading home soon now that things were stabilizing, but that wasn’t true. Scott wasn’t cleared yet, and I wasn’t walking away until he was.

And then there was Ronan. Dinner tonight would be… complicated. I liked him, cared about him, but it wasn’t love — not yet. He wasn’t Vic. No one was Vic. No one will replace Vic….or his dick.

I turned off the water, dried off, and reached for my favorite floral perfume, then my unscented body cream. I dressed, swapped my contacts for glasses, and loosely French-braided my hair. I grabbed my phones, passports, and a toothbrush — just in case I fell asleep. It was early evening, the sun fading into a cool blue twilight outside.

Locking the door behind me, I walked the short distance to Ronan’s. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and wet concrete. It took me three minutes, door to door.

I knocked once. The door opened almost immediately. Ronan stood there, sleeves rolled up, a kitchen towel over one shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, smiling.

“Hey,” I said back.

As soon as the door closed, he stepped forward, his hands framing my face. He kissed me — deep, sure, and full of all the words he hadn’t said. For a moment, I let myself sink into it. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since you left the hospital yesterday,” he said softly.

I exhaled slowly. “You probably shouldn’t have.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I don’t regret it.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “Neither do I.”

He stepped back and gestured toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, so I made two dinners.”

I followed him in, the warmth of his place washing over me — the faint scent of rosemary and garlic and the sounds of classical music softly playing in the background.

“You didn’t have to go all out, Ronan.”

“I wanted to,” he said, smiling.

The table was set for two, candles flickering low.

“You look exhausted,” he said as I sat.

“Long day,” I said. “But the players are finally acting like a team.”

He smiled. “So, a win.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Feels like it.”

He uncovered the plates — salmon and roasted vegetables, pasta in marinara sauce, both a sweet and hot sausage and a meatball and bread for both of us.

“I remember you said you liked simple food done right.”

I smiled faintly. “You remember too much.”

He sat across from me. “Can’t help it.”

Ronan, knowing me, offered the pasta. We ate quietly for a while, the conversation easy. When the plates were nearly empty, he leaned back.

“You’ve changed,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Good or bad?”

“Good,” he said without hesitation. “Stronger. Calmer.”

“I’ve had to be.”

He studied me for a long moment. “You know, every time I start to think I’m over you, you show up again.”

I looked down at my plate. “Ronan…”

He shook his head. “I’m not asking for anything. I just needed to say it.”

“I know,” I said softly. “And I respect that. But I need to heal first. You know that.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Silence settled again, not heavy — just full. The kind of quiet that meant too much to fill.

Finally, he said, “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. Just be here with me.”

I nodded. “That, I can do.”

He smiled, refilled my glass, and raised his own.

“To progress — on the field and off.”

I smiled faintly. “I’ll drink to that.”

Our glasses clinked softly, and for the first time that day, I felt something like peace settle in. Whatever tomorrow brought — with the team, with Scott, with Ronan — could wait.