The interview went better than she had expected. Horace, the manager, had a calm, practical kindness about him. He called later that day to ask what hours suited her best.
When she ended the call, Sage realised she was smiling. She bounded up the stairs two at a time, something she hadn't done in months, eager to tell David the news.
Towards the evening, Ronin found her in the kitchen. He lingered in the doorway, almost tentatively.
"There's a football match," he said. "We should go."
Sage looked up, startled, to see David trailing behind him with his boots in hand.
She hesitated as they both held their breath and then slowly nodded.
It had always been her—the one shouting herself hoarse at the sidelines, waving water bottles, clapping until her palms ached. But this time, they went together.
On the touchline, Ronin stood beside her, hands jammed deep into his pockets. At first, he was stiff, awkward, as if unsure where to put himself. Then David made a run, and Sage's voice cracked across the pitch, full of fire.
"Come on, ref, open your eyes!"
"That was a foul! Are you blind?"
"David! Don't you dare let him pass you!"
She was an aggressive football mum, fists pumping, eyes bright with battle. All the other parents seemed to give her a wide berth. Gene stood nearby, sipping her coffee and watching the show. She had given Ronin the cold shoulder when Sage begrudgingly introduced them.
Ronin's lips parted in astonishment before amusement softened his face. His eyes lit with something almost boyish. "You're terrifying," he murmured with a grin.
She shot him a sideways look, flushed from yelling. He only shrugged, shoulders loose, as though the sight of her like this was a revelation. She didn't bother to answer. There were many things about her that Ronin never bothered to find out.
Later, in the kitchen, Sage found herself saying, begrudgingly, "Stay for dinner if you want."
He agreed far too quickly, relief flickering across his face.
She made beef burritos, the kitchen filling with the smell of spiced mince and warm tortillas. David sat at the island, loading his plate and cracking jokes about how burritos would ruin the air later.
"Honestly, Mum, you're going to regret feeding me this. I'll be banned from polite society. My farts are legendry."
Sage grunted, laughing despite herself. "Yes, I know. I have to replace your underpants when it starts to look like Swiss cheese. Anyway, I'm eating. Stop."
The laughter fluttered between them. Then she caught Ronin watching her with a look so tender, so full of quiet awe, that her stomach tightened.
Two years ago, that look would have meant everything.
But now, she turned away, her chest aching something fierce. That look meant nothing at all now.
The letter came in the post. Her name was written neatly across the front, a Scottish return address in the corner. Sage turned it over in her hands while her pulse drummed with excitement, then tore it open at the kitchen counter.
Inside, his handwriting curved across the page, bold and masculine. She sank into a chair and began to read.
My dear little ray of sunshine,
I miss you more than I should admit on paper, perhaps, but it's the truth. The smallest things bring you back to me. Skipping stones on the river the other day, I could almost hear your laugh, could almost see the way you tilt your head when you're pleased with yourself. Even food tastes different without you. I find myself thinking about how you fussed over seasoning, as if you could pour comfort straight into a pan.
They say it's your first love you remember most, but I don't believe that. I think it's your first true love that is both the easiest to remember and the hardest to forget. No matter how hard you try—and I know you've been trying—you can't keep me out of your mind, can you?
Do you remember the train? You were actually in your own seat. I was an arse because I wanted you to look at me...maybe give me your attention like little boys who pull the pigtails of girls they like. I saw you from a distance, and something in me knew I had to speak to you. That day, I thought, she is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. If I'd had the courage, I'd have asked you to marry me before you left. Not that I thought I stood a chance, but I wish I had said it.
I tried to go on with my life as if nothing's changed, but I know the truth. I think about you when I'm sad, wondering if things would be different if I were there. I think about you in the rare moments I'm happy, wondering if that fleeting moment could ever compare to what we feel when we're together.
Our connection is undeniable—at least to me, it is. We are meant to be together, or maybe this is just wistful thinking from my end. Call it destiny, call it fate...whatever it is, we are it. No distance is long enough to stop me from coming to you, and no amount of time can erase what we are and can be.
