"Jaimie?" Kelley questions as I pale. This will have to be cut out of the episode. "Everything okay?" I nod, though I doubt it convinces her. She continues anyway. "You just seem like you'd like that kind of player. Wait – you actually used to play, didn't you?"

Oh.

"I played before Fleur did."

I panicked for no reason. Because why would anyone suspect Leah and I to be... what Leah and I are? I am used to the dating rumours surrounding my personal life because it comes with playing sports and being a woman, but I have been more or less off my phone of late. Discreetly, while Kelley asks a few more questions that require mindless answers, I scroll through the usual gossip columns that my name appears in, sighing in relief as I see the names of a few Lakers players I could possibly have been visiting when I stopped over in LA before the WTA Finals. I had expected to be spotted. It was pure luck to not have been photographed with Leah.

Kelley finishes up and I pack away my set-up in preparation for the move to my gate. I will be home soon, and then I can sit down with Mumma and piece my life back together as though I had not temporarily escaped to Austria with a woman whose place in my life is unclear. They must have thought I was doing some sort of intense detox before the start of the season – something Juan has made me endure one or twice after particularly interesting breaks. This was pre-therapy.

The wild panic I felt earlier stays with me as I board the plane, engulfing my cabin with a haze of worry that prohibits me from enjoying the film I have selected to pass some time on the flight. They serve breakfast, and I find it troublesome to swallow with a rock of guilt lodge at the back of my throat. Juan and I call to discuss my return, arranging hitting partners and coaching sessions, along with amending the usual jet-lag programme to fit New Year's. While it is too close to the beginning of the season for me to drink until I am paralytic, I have a duty to my family to do a shot or two (or five) and entertain the younger members of the family. Children love me and I love them.

Removed from the bliss of our secret trip to Austria, I have time to process what happened. Scarlett, who was an extra little sister, is now dead, and my sister has been comforted by everyone but me. Why? Because I was distracted? I was preoccupied? I had my hands full? I should never be too busy for Fleur, though the thoughts concerning her were dust in my mind the minute Leah had entered with an equal weight of grief pushing her into the ground.

I am a bad sister.

I am also going against everything I have sacrificed for this life. If not for the lonely nights and tears and 'we have to talk's, I would not be sitting in such luxury, basking in such success. There would be no 'tennis star, Jaimie de Voss'. Relationships are not very compatible with my life. Leah should not want to waste her time with me. (But she does.)

Glancing out the window as we steadily glide above the clouds, I see the reflection of a smile. A rarity. Obviously, I smile, but not often with blushing cheeks and a shine in my eye that glistens with a sickening look of love. Fucking hell.

I think we have done the steps backwards, because everything but a date has been checked off the list. And she is not my girlfriend. How that has happened is a mystery, because we have exchanged 'I love you's, but alas. Some things in life are just complicated.

Mumma picks me up from the airport with a grin and a long hug. She misses me when I go away. Fleur and her did not necessarily fall out, but they are far from close, and so she effectively only has one daughter (as the other resides in the other half of the world and rarely expresses a desire to visit or be visited).

"You look happier," she comments once I have uploaded a photo of the sunset to my story to announce my return to my followers. It is an important part of building the hype for the start of the season, and, more importantly, the first Grand Slam of the year. "You were heartbroken when you left, but now you seem more at peace. Are you over her or with her?"

She picked up the directness from living in Amsterdam all those years, for sure. "We went on holiday together to Gerlos. You know, where we go skiing." Mumma nods, patiently waiting for more details. "I told her I loved her, and she said it back. Nothing is official."

"She's one of Scarlett's friends, isn't she?" I hum in answer. "You're lucky Fleur hasn't noticed. Your dad said she's been off her phone and cradled in Lize's arms for the last week." That reminds me that it has only been a week since Scarlett died. Things change very quickly.

I fidget in my seat, feeling sticky in the conversation. "Am I being selfish?"

"Is it selfish to care for the ones you love?"

The route is familiar but Mumma has Google Maps up to inform her of the traffic. It will be another twenty minutes until I am home, and then I will climb into my own bed and sleep until Juan bangs on my door tomorrow afternoon. Focusing on the blue line that directs us to my house does nothing to convince Mumma that I have not heard her point.

"Jai, they were both connected to Scarlett, and they were both grieving. You chose to deal with Leah because you know your dad and I could handle your sister. You trusted your family, and I'm honestly glad you didn't take it upon yourself to comfort Fleur all on your own." Sometimes I forget there is more to my family than my sister and me. Perhaps we are too close. She can start to feel like my daughter after a particularly rough patch in her life.

"I feel guilty."

She shrugs. "Don't."

"Fleur might think I am ignoring her."

"She hasn't noticed. Her mind is swirling like a tornado – you know how she gets." I get the sense that Mumma has actually spoken to her, which feels a little odd. I am not sure if it does anything to take away from what I am feeling. "She's packing for Barça anyway. She's busy."

"Do you think it will be good for her?" My voice cracks with the meekness of a child. I feel as though I have shrunk back ten years, and am helplessly asking my mother what I am supposed to do if she is living in Australia and I am stuck in Amsterdam.

Her pensive silence is broken by the click of her indicator as we turn onto my road. I breathe in a sigh of relief, though I can sense her tension beside me. "I think that both of you need to learn to be selfish sometimes."

"Like you," I mutter, half-intending to unravel a tightly-wound problem that we avoid talking about unless a mediator is present.

"Jaimie, let's not do this now." I have forgiven her for it, though Fleur has not. "You're tired and you're miserable and you're looking for an excuse to be angry at yourself. We are not going to rehash the past right here." She grips the steering wheel firmly, flexing her fingers when she hears the protests die in my throat.

It really does feel as if I am younger, even with the thought of Leah at the back of my mind and the general worries of being an adult present. I let go of tension in my jaw, but I meet her steely eyes and see a reflection of myself. We look very similar. An influx of new sentences to say come to mind. "But you were. Selfish, I mean. And you think we should be too."

"There's a balance that you need," she says with a mother's cryptic diplomacy, "that your father did not manage to teach you about. I watch you play all the time. I watch Fleur too. You are dominating on the court — field — but... Jaimie, she's not your daughter. Have something for yourself."

"I have many things for myself," I reply, feeling indignant. As my home appears in view with all its splendour, I am reminded of the fact that I am twenty-six, and am not obliged to absorb everything she says. It is but an offering.

She parks on the street, both my cars slotting into my driveway in a way that leaves no space for more. The motion-sensor lights of my front drive switch on. My house looks untouched. "I think you should really try with Leah." I was planning to. "I know you have these flings here and there, but she seems to improve you. She's good for you."

"Thank you for giving me a lift." Mumma's forced smile at my coldness is satisfying. I would like to deliberate on her suggestion in the comfort of my own bed, preferably with a glass of wine and a book in case thinking begins to bore me.

"Anytime."

I could count on my fingers the amount of calls she has had with Fleur this year, though I am sure the lack of communication is equally the fault of my sister. They are both stubborn. It is not my problem (I have tried to fix it, but I have had to give up).

The hallway has a breeze flowing through it as I drag my suitcase to the middle, just below the stairs. I walk into the study, carrying my laptop, setting it up for tomorrow's meetings so that I can wake up later. Future-me will be thankful.

My phone buzzes with an incoming call. I have not changed Leah's contact name, but it makes me laugh as I accept and her face appears on the screen. She is smiling and in a living room that has the suspicious hum of conversation in the background. Her expression changes as she takes in the bags under my eyes and the unimpressed look that my face must bear. I have had a long day.

"You back?" I nod. It is a good thing that FaceTime exists, because my mouth threatens to not move. "Only took you two years. I can't imagine how you do it."

"Much effort," I mumble, feeling the ability to speak any language slip out of my body and make its way upstairs to return to me in the morning. I follow its path, my suitcase trailing behind me. "Lots of interviews in Singapore. Plane wifi."

"You're so awkward in interviews," she states with an insulting confidence.

"If they ask me awkward questions, then yeah," I reply. After further thought, I realise that Leah has admitted to watching my interviews. Cute. "Have you looked me up?"

She fumbles her way through her defence. I find my attention drifting, my mind swirling with questions that I do not think I can ask Leah now. I want to know what we are, or what we could be. I am not sure.

My lips stay sealed for the waning days of 2022, though I almost break when she phones me while I am babysitting my cousin's children at the beach. The sun feels too good against my aching muscles, and the thought of children is all-consuming. Not in a terrifying way. Just an image of the possible future. I like looking after children – I'm good at it.

New Year's is at Mumma's house this time, with the annual party being on rotation between her and her three brothers, who all live in Melbourne too. We mostly invite family and close friends, but my cousin brings his new boyfriend and I am suddenly hounded about my own love life. Because if he can do it and he works in Kmart, then so can I. Mumma notices how quickly the champagne in my glass drains, and pulls me upstairs (weird idea if I am sort of unable to walk, but alas).

"What's wrong?" Her voice is almost harsh. I blink in surprise.

"I'm fine," I dismiss, attempting to sound impassive. "Everything's fine."

"Well, clearly not. Are you stressed about the start of the season? I know that they've been talking about you being one to watch. That's a lot of pressure."

I shrug. "No. It's fine."

"Is it Leah? Is she okay?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Mumma sucks in a sharp breath and clicks her tongue, grimacing. "I don't know. After what happened to Scarlett–"

"Leah is alive, Mum." I roll my eyes. "In fact, she is great."

"But you're not seeming so great, you know." Her eyes catch mine and give me a contactless hug, which feels unnecessary and...

"I want her to be my girlfriend but she is grieving and I don't want to take advantage of her."

"Whoa, slower Dutch please. It's been a while." I can taste the champagne on my tongue, familiar with it. Hesitantly, I repeat myself. "If you want her to be your girlfriend, just ask her, you nutter. Stop getting yourself worked up over it. She'd be crazy to say anything other than yes." 

notes: 

once again hungover and therefore did not proofread 

allow it pls x

thanks for reading!!!