Page 12 of Anatomy of Us

“Yeah. I’m human.” Her jaw tightens. “But you’re still not clearing me to train with the team yet, right?”

I only shake my head, and I don’t know if it hurts me more than it hurts her.

**

Three sessions turn into six. Six turn into twelve. The weeks blur into a routine of drills and reassessments, a brutal, steady rebuild—muscle by muscle—until her body starts to look like her own again.

Little by little, we start to talk. Not about the past. Not about what happens between us. We both dodge that like it’s live fire. But she starts asking questions. She wants to know why we pick one exercise and not another. The distrust still lives somewhere inside her. In her head. In her heart. But things shift. They improve.

“Today we’re working on lumbopelvic dissociation,” I say. “You need to relearn how to move your pelvis independent of your lower back. It’s key for core stability after pregnancy.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Stand here and set your feet about hip-width apart,” I tell her.

She does, and I step behind her. Too close.

“I need to feel the movement directly,” I explain, keeping my voice as professional as I can when I see her body lock up. “You’ll move between my hands. I’m placing one hand on your pubic bone and the other just above your glutes. Is that okay?” I ask before I touch her.

She exhales. I put my hands where I say I will. A faint blush climbs her cheeks, and heat rises up my own neck like a flare.

I press in behind her, my chest against her back, my body bracketing hers, too aware that my right hand sits inches from her sex.

For a few seconds, neither of us moves.

“I’m going to guide the motion, okay?” I whisper near her ear. “You let yourself go. Tip your pelvis forward, press into my hand, then tilt back into the other.”

“Ugh,” she breathes the moment we start.

“Ugh?”

“This movement…”

“Relax. You’re tense,” I murmur.

“How am I not supposed to be tense?” She gives a short, broken laugh. “Jesus. You’re one harness away from it being like before you left. We’re done for today.” She steps away fast.

I try to apologize, but she doesn’t look mad. Just… I don’t know. Startled. Because I’m startled too. This isstandard postpartum work for an athlete. I do it with other women. I’ve never felt what I just felt with Zoe.

She’s right. It’s too familiar. Too close.

Too… hot.

At least she rolls her eyes and laughs.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. I just need to prep myself before we do stuff like that, okay? Sorry.” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

Then doubt flickers across her face.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You know you can,” I say, and I take her hands without thinking, holding them between mine.

“What if I never come back?” Her voice drops. “Not to my level. Not to anything that matters. Soccer is my life. It’s all I know. It’s what defines me. I don’t even know what’s there when it ends. I never thought about it and now…”

“You want to know what I see?”