Page 17 of Summer Breakdown (Training Seasons #2)

Jasmine finds a bench in the sun, pulls her blanket out, and sits down. Frankie didn’t tell her what they needed for accounting. She stared at her for a minute and then told her to go outside.

It’s whatever. Jasmine brought a book with her, but she’ll probably watch the kids train. Marcel is adorable with his headband and his shorts. Jasmine’s not convinced Lani wants to play, but she wants to match with Marcel any chance she can get.

Ezra shows Marcel some footwork and tries to get the ball to rest in Lani’s palm. Neither of them goes well.

Jasmine wonders if she should offer to help with the accounting anyway.

The team isn’t just Frankie. She likes Ezra and Mali.

She’d be sad if they lost their jobs because Frankie went to jail.

If they figured it out, she could do it at her house and she wouldn’t have to see Frankie.

They only talk online, and if Jasmine asks her something specific, Frankie might look up at her.

Now, Frankie’s avoiding the quiz because Jasmine’s there.

Jasmine is desperate for friends. It’s a little sad.

And she likes them, but they’re not hers.

It wouldn’t be fair. Perhaps she could keep Mali and Ezra without going to the quiz?

Jasmine went to yoga with Mali, and Frankie wasn’t there.

Ezra wants to play badminton with her and the kids, and Frankie ignored the group message, so she won’t be there.

Frankie can keep Cam. She’s lovely, but they haven’t met up due to schedules, and she is Frankie’s best friend. Jasmine’s not a monster.

But it wouldn’t fix it. Jasmine wants Frankie to like her. She wants to know what she did wrong that means she won’t even entertain exploring if they could be friends.

Jasmine wants Frankie to like her, and she doesn’t.

Then Frankie walks onto the pitch. Jasmine swiftly pulls her book out of her bag.

Ezra recommended it to her, and so far, it’s pretty good.

He wants to know what she thinks once she’s read chapter twenty-three.

The writing is stunning, but Jasmine rereads it numerous times because she can’t focus.

Frankie is still walking towards her, and Jasmine’s focus is drawn to her.

The tension in her thighs. The way her forearms flex when she tenses.

It’s not even her fault. Frankie demands attention when she’s around.

She walks past the kids, her hands clenched, and Jasmine tenses her jaw.

The top Frankie is wearing is tight, and Jasmine can so clearly see the abs she ran her fingers over.

It’s rude how attractive Frankie is. Jasmine’s not ready for her to talk, even though she’s been anticipating it ever since she walked past the children.

“Hi,” Frankie says, when she’s about a metre away. She doesn’t get any closer. Her hands aren’t clenched anymore—she’s crossing her fingers. Jasmine’s seen her do it before. Not even just now when Kai came in. Sometime before, but she can’t place when.

“Hello.”

“Uh, do you have a website?”

Jasmine frowns. “What for?”

“For your business. Accounting, right? Or was Marcel lying to make me feel better?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jasmine replies. She riffles through her bag for a business card. She pulls out tampons, Lani’s camera, lip balm, a pack of playing cards, Lani’s socks, lipliner, Marcel’s headphones, gloss, some hoops, and finally, a business card. She hands it to Frankie .

“You can just tell me, though.”

Frankie looks nervous, like maybe she’s only asking for her website so she doesn’t have to talk to her directly.

If Frankie doesn’t want to talk to her, she should stop looking at her.

It’s rude, and not at all subtle. Jasmine wants Frankie to like her.

She wants Frankie to think she’s interesting, even if Jasmine has no intention of doing anything about it.

“I don’t really know what to ask for.”

“Okay,” Jasmine replies. “Well, I have services on there, but if you tell me what it is you need help with, I can tell you what you need to ask for.”

“I don’t want to waste your time,” Frankie replies. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and Jasmine might actively hate her. Truly and to her core might despise the fact that she’s just here, living her life without thinking about Jasmine the entire time.

“I’m offering.”

“I know,” she replies, “but I don’t know if we can afford you yet, and I was hoping your website had prices on it, but what if you’re one of those that’s enquire within? That just means I’m too poor to afford it.”

Jasmine snorts. She does have an enquire within, because she changes her fee based on who’s asking and if they’re rude. Large corporations get charged through the nose, and they pay it. Jasmine works with charities too. She doesn’t charge them as much.

“Frankie,” Jasmine says. She kind of enjoys Frank’s spirals, though. “I’m offering to help. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you if I can do it.”

“I don’t want to take advantage.”

“You know you have an ex-premiership player running around after hours to teach my terrible-at-rugby kids rugby, right?”

Frankie smiles. “Marcel is getting it. I think Lani might want to pick daisies, but she’s not saying that. ”

“She probably doesn’t want to wheel all the way over here.”

Frankie laughs. She bends down and grabs a few daisies between her fingers. It’s sweet that she wants Lani to have them, but if Jasmine has to watch her walk all the way over there, she might die. Frankie tears a stem between her fingers, twisting until there’s a small bunch of daisies in her hand.

She hands them to her.

“For me?” Jasmine asks.

Frankie hums, then sits next to her with some numbers scribbled on a page. Her hands shake a little, and Jasmine remembers the only way she can get Frankie to reply to her.

“Tell me something.”

“I’m a very anxious person,” Frankie says, and Jasmine almost flinches at the change of topic. “We grew up stupid poor, so I don’t like going into things without knowing how much it will cost in case for some reason we can’t afford it and then I have to choose something else to not pay.”

Frankie chews on her lip. “Will you tell me how long you think it’ll take and what you charge an hour?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” Frankie says, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“This is what we made last year, and this is what we paid out. So, is this what we have to pay in tax?” Jasmine frowns.

They’re both wrong. She doesn’t even know the extent of the business, but she knows from looking at them that they’re both wrong.

“No,” she replies, and Frankie flinches slightly. Jasmine doesn’t like it. “But it’s okay. We can figure it out.”

“How did I not get the maths right? I had a calculator.”

Jasmine laughs as she writes down a few things for Frankie to get for her.

“Accounting is hard. You’re doing great.”

“I am?” Frankie asks, and Jasmine screws up her nose. She wasn’t supposed to say it out loud .

“Yeah. I mean, the team are doing well, and you’re building a legacy.

It’s cool,” she replies. It is cool—she’s not lying.

Nothing that Frankie has accomplished with the Titans can be undersold by the fact she doesn’t like Jasmine very much.

“It’s also new. You don’t have to have everything figured out right away.

Haven’t you only been coach for, like, two and a half years? ”

Frankie raises her eyebrow, and Jasmine regrets speaking. “Did you look me up?”

She blushes. “No.”

Frankie smiles at the ground.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Frankie replies.

Jasmine groans. “I’m not helping you if you’re mean to me. It was like one Google search! I had to check you weren’t murderers before I let my kids come.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Frankie, so help me, I will leave you to pay your fifty-seven percent tax.”

Frankie laughs, and Jasmine likes the way her cheek curves. “Is that what it was?”

Jasmine smiles as she puts her notebook away, but her phone flashes up with a text from Mike. He wants to know when the kids want to go to his over summer, but only so he can make excuses as to why he’s not around.

“Are you alright?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah,” Jasmine replies. Mike popping up reminds her of how much she hates not knowing if she’s wanted somewhere.

She spent so long questioning how he felt for her, whether they were incompatible because of something she was doing.

Jasmine barely knew who she was when she was with him, always changing small things about herself in case it meant he wanted to spend the evening with her.

Frankie doesn’t want her here. She’s made it clear.

Still, Frankie asks, “What’s wrong?”

Jasmine blinks. “Nothing. ”

“Please,” Frankie whispers. “Tell me something.”

Jasmine huffs out a laugh. She has such a nerve.

“Are you not going to the quiz because of me?” Jasmine asks.

Frankie breathes out, her hands trembling just a little.

Jasmine probably wouldn’t be able to notice if it weren’t for the paper she was holding.

Jasmine knows touch is supposed to help, but it’s probably only if the person who needs help wants the other person around.

“Yeah,” Frankie replies, and Jasmine feels like she’s been hit. At least she was honest.

“Oh.”

“You can go, obviously,” Frankie says. “It’s not your fault. I want you to go.”

“Do you want me to take the kids out of the club?” Jasmine asks. Lani would be sad because she’s obsessed with Ezra, but she’d forgive Jasmine eventually. Marcel might not, but Jasmine could entertain letting him go alone. He is fourteen.

“What?” Frankie asks.

“If I hurt you,” Jasmine whispers, her eyes closed lightly.

She’s trying to get over it, but maybe she needs to acknowledge it first. “I’m sorry.

I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She looks up at her, and Frankie’s jaw is dropped slightly.

“I swear I didn’t mean to, but if I did—if I held you down when you wanted to go, then—”

“You didn’t,” Frankie says, reaching for her hand. “Jasmine.”

“If I did, you shouldn’t have to see me. This is your world, not mine.”

“Jasmine,” she begs, but Jasmine can’t look at her anymore. “Please. I don’t want you to do that. You didn’t do anything.”

“I would have stopped,” Jasmine says. She can feel the back of her eyes burn.

Jasmine cries a reasonable amount, but the idea that Frankie was scared and had to run makes her gut turn.

“I would have stopped. I would have done anything you asked me to,” she whispers, looking over at her again.

“If I had known, if I had seen that you didn’t want—”

“I’m sorry,” Frankie says, her brows furrowed. Her grip on Jasmine’s hand tightens. “I promise you didn’t do anything.”

Jasmine sighs, and she waits for Frankie to speak, but they’re propelled into an awkward silence that she can’t get out of unless she moves a seat over.

Thankfully, Lani—the light of her life—saves her by wheeling over, her hair in cute bunches on top of her head.

She’s puffed, that much is clear. Hopefully, Frankie will leave her alone.

“Mama,” Lani says, with an overdramatic wheeze. She’s entirely Jasmine’s favourite thing under fourteen.

Jasmine smiles, trying to move away from Frankie. “Hey, baby.”

“I’m so tired,” she replies, resting her head over the back of her wheelchair. “I can’t do any more training. What if I croak?”

Frankie laughs, but her feet tap against the floor.

“You’ve been outside for twenty minutes,” Jasmine replies.

Lani pouts. “Can I play on the grass?”

Jasmine smiles. “Sure.”

Lani shuffles out of her chair and rolls to the ground like she does when being dramatic vocally isn’t enough.

Frankie tenses next to her, her arms up like she could have caught her.

Frankie knows she can walk. She hasn’t seen it before, but Jasmine guesses it’s a little scary to see Lani fall to the floor for the first time, even if it’s not real.

Frankie’s entire body is tensed, even when Lani moves around.

Then, Lani’s upright again with a smile.

“Frankie?”

“Yes, babe?”

“Should I make you a daisy chain?”