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Carly stayed where she was, by the stereo.

Two rooms off the high street. The exact thing Lauren had described with her hands on Carly’s back a month ago. It’s a pipe dream. Obviously. The thing Carly had asked about and offered to go through with her.

It was happening. Lauren had done the numbers. And she’d told Jenna, and Abi, and the barista, and probably half the room.

She hadn’t told Carly.

That shouldn’t have stung. Carly was her landlord, about to lose a tenant. Of course Lauren wouldn’t lead with it.

It stung anyway.

Jenna spotted her across the room and waved her over with her whole arm. Carly made herself walk.

“Did you hear?” Jenna demanded. “Did you hear about the clinic?”

“I heard.” Carly looked at Lauren. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Lauren met her eyes for exactly as long as politeness required, then looked at her drink again. “It’s early days. Might not happen.”

“It sounds like it’s happening.”

“Maybe.”

The pause went on a beat too long. Abi, who had excellent instincts, suddenly needed a sausage roll from the other end of the table.

“How’s Berkeley?” Carly asked.

“Fine.” Friendly, and entirely flat. “Ate his tea. Did his business. Walked round the field twice. He was asleep on the rug when I left, and I put the radio on for him so it’s not too quiet. He stole a sock this morning, but he gave it back.”

It was a perfectly good report. Just what Carly would have asked an instructor for.

There was nothing in it at all.

“Good,” Carly said. “Thanks.”

She should have left it there. She didn’t.

“Lauren. About the weights room—”

“Honestly, don’t.” Lauren was already shaking her head, the smile fixed in place. “It’s fine. It’s forgotten.”

Forgotten.

“Right,” Carly said.

“No worries, mate.”

There it was again.

Lauren turned back to Jenna, and the studio floor tilted very slightly under Carly’s feet.

She knew this feeling. She’d known it for fifteen years. The back seat of someone’s car after an away game, when she was eighteen. A box of chicken nuggets. And the Wednesday after, in the clubhouse car park, when Lauren had walked straight past her to the others and Carly had heard her laugh.

Lauren had got close. Then she’d remembered who Carly was.

Same story, better lighting. A dog walk, a massage, a kitchen full of steam and chicken, a kiss in a weights room. And then, once Lauren had seen the mess, the shaking hands and the dad Carly couldn’t visit, she’d stepped back and put mate up like barrier tape.

“Lloydy.” Jenna’s voice cut through. “You’re coming Wednesday, aren’t you? You’ve missed two weeks. Jax is talking about playing me at centre-back, and nobody wants that.”