Page 10 of Try Hard

Eve

I grinned widely at Terrance when I entered the kitchen, my hair still damp from the shower.

The clock on the wall, with its decorative, wobbly wooden edge, said it was only a quarter to seven.

I’d somehow managed to race through my morning run and shower.

Most likely, I was still being spurred on by the fact that Ophelia had texted last night.

Sure, I’d waited hours for her, but part of me had expected no message at all.

I’d hoped, of course, and it had paid off.

Not only had she messaged me for over an hour, she’d asked me to use her whole name, like it was a secret just for the two of us.

And, sure, she wasn’t exactly warm and cuddly over text, but I knew how to see the positives, and her messages had been full of them.

“Egg mayo?” Terrance asked, waving his half eaten sandwich in the air.

I laughed lightly. “I’m good, thanks. Is that what you have every morning?”

“Nah.” He shook his head as he chewed a bite, signaling that he was planning to continue speaking. “I like to mix it up. Have a collection of three or four faves I run through—and, of course, if I’m eating with your mum, it’s lady’s choice.”

I grinned, pulling my mum’s toastie maker from one of the cupboards. “So… porridge?”

“Usually,” he allowed, laughing. “Pancakes if it’s a special occasion.”

A warm feeling took root in my stomach. My mum’s dad had always made her pancakes for her birthday.

Every year, without fail, until he was too old.

But, even then, he’d somehow coordinate with the staff at his nursing home so that, one way or another, my mum got pancakes on her birthday—even if he had to buy them pre-made.

It had been something sacred for her. Something the two of them did together.

Something she’d passed down to us. Special occasions meant pancakes, even if she was a little more liberal with her definition of special occasions than my grandad had been.

Terrance watched me assembling my breakfast as I clocked the rest of his egg mayonnaise in the fridge—preassembled sandwich filling just waiting for…

lunch? Tomorrow’s breakfast? I couldn’t imagine him eating the same thing for two meals running, but I also hadn’t imagined him as someone who ate egg mayo butties for breakfast.

“Is this your usual breakfast?” he asked when I pressed the lid of the sandwich maker down.

“Ha. No. This is my first full day of vacation breakfast.” I saw the way his brow quirked at the Americanism but he didn’t call it out. “Cheese and bean toasties, yoghurt with berries, and I had a smoothie before my run.”

“You know, most people on holiday would go for like… a full English or pancakes stacked with chocolate and ice cream.”

“True. But I’ve been craving these toasties for a week now.”

He frowned. “You’re telling me Eve Archer is so hard done by now she’s retired that she can’t afford a twenty quid sandwich maker?”

I laughed. I enjoyed Terrance. He wasn’t afraid to tease me like some people were.

It worked well for us. And, honestly, was probably one of the reasons he was such a good fit with Mum.

He’d never been thrown by the fame or the connections.

Even at my middling level of celebrity, people still sometimes lost themselves to it.

Terrance sipped his coffee before flashing me a grin. “Do I need to tell your mother you’re in dire need of an early birthday gift?”

I shook my head, pulling a punnet of strawberries from the fridge.

“Not at all. I don’t actually know why I’ve never bought one.

It just… feels like home. Something Mum or Dad used to feed us.

And then, this kind isn’t particularly common in the US, so it was a treat every time I came home.

Even now I’m back permanently, it’s just… something that means coming home.”

He nodded slowly, like he totally understood.

He probably did. Food was big in Terrance’s family—a connection to their history, just like it was for most immigrants in my experience.

And, sure, a cheese and bean toastie didn’t feel quite the same as something like the ital stew he’d made last night, didn’t have the same history behind it, but it was undeniably British, and it was my food from home.

Terrance drained his coffee cup. “Okay. No toastie machine for Christmas.”

I laughed. “Much appreciated.”

“So, still keeping up the workout regime even though you’re on holiday?”

I hummed. “I just can’t seem to do without it. Start feeling antsy if I’m not moving, you know?”

“I suppose if my every day had been filled with nothing but sports for my entire adult life, I’d probably feel the same way.” He shot me a look. “As it is, my every day is filled with construction and I… could use a break.”

Terrance loved his job, but he had been doing it a long time.

However, Mum had told me the man got bored as hell if he took time off and didn’t have activities planned.

Apparently, he’d tried to take a week off just to rest and do nothing, and she’d come home to him building a new patio in the backyard after only the second day.

But, I let him have this one without arguing.

Everyone needed breaks, even if they found themselves drawn back to their activities in the end.

“Rest days are important,” I said, repeating the advice I’d heard from every coach I’d ever had.

He shot me a grin that said Mum had told him just how much I’d always hated enforced rest days. Even as a kid, I’d been so desperate to get back out there immediately.

There was a clattering coming down the stairs, breaking the quiet moment, and Hercules rounded the corner, bounding for the kitchen. Apparently, eggs didn’t speak to him enough to lure him from sleep but the scent of melting, gooey cheese had done it.

Terrance ran a hand through Hercules’ fur. “Nothing but rest days for this guy.”

“Oh, that’s not true, is it Herc?” I asked in a slightly pouty voice. “He’s a true athlete.”

Terrance laughed heartily. “Sorry, but this one takes after Sophie more than you—has his moments for running around, but given a choice, he’d pick the indoors and a cosy couch every day of the week.”

He wasn’t wrong there, and there was no point arguing otherwise.

If it rained, Hercules tried to refuse his daily walks, even when you put him in his stylish yellow raincoat.

Soph was the same. She’d go outside, of course, but she’d complain non-stop about the bad weather, pouting from inside her hooded coat.

Not me. I ran come rain or shine. Sometimes, I liked the rain better.

There was something so vital about it. Sure, the conditions weren’t ideal, but I seldom felt more alive than when the rain pounded against my skin and flared up around my feet with every step.

Terrance poured himself another cup of coffee and sat quietly at the breakfast bar until I took a seat beside him with my food. Herc gave me the biggest puppy dog eyes, desperate for a taste.

“You good?” I asked, eyeing Terrance questioningly.

He nodded in that wise way dads seemed to. “Sophie mentioned you’d run into someone from school yesterday.”

I fought to keep my expression neutral as I sipped my tea. There had been about five minutes where Soph had been alone with Mum and Terrance before leaving. I should have known Ophelia would be the topic of conversation, but it, somehow, hadn’t occurred to me.

I nodded. “Yeah, Ophelia. She’s Soph’s old peer mentor.”

“Pretty name.” His tone was light but I realised I knew him well enough to understand there was something loaded in the undercurrent. “Sophie calls her Fia?”

“Most people do,” I said, concentrating on my breakfast. The butterflies in my stomach were not conducive to eating, but I’d just made a whole speech about being desperate for cheese and bean toasties.

“Not you, though.”

“I guess.” Maybe I should just call her Fia around everyone else. After yesterday, I’d understood why she’d said to do so in front of her parents, but it hadn’t occurred to me that I needed to around my parents too. It should have.

He hummed and nodded thoughtfully, sipping his second mug of coffee. “Sophie seems quite… taken with her.”

My insides felt like spaghetti—no form, no sense, just… squiggles. “Yeah, she really helped Soph when school was… not her favourite place in the world, shall we say?”

“Hm. Right. And you?”

“Me?” I laughed, the sound only a little abnormal. “I didn’t have a peer mentor. And Oph—Fia and I were in the same year. I know it was called peer mentoring, but it tended to be someone from an older year.”

He fought against the wide grin threatening to spill out from his eyes to his lips. “Not that. I’m just wondering whether she’s the reason you’re charging around the place all wired today?”

“Aren’t I always like this?”

“Kind of, but something seems a little different today.”

“Is that right?” Had I smiled too much? Did he somehow know I usually ran a little slower?

How could he? We didn’t spend so many mornings together that he knew my schedule.

And it was my first morning back here in a minute.

My run might have been faster because I was excited to be back on a trail I’d run so frequently as a kid…

Terrance finished off his coffee and stood up. “I don’t need to be genetically related to you to know you.”

I felt myself blushing awkwardly. That was unusual for me. I was generally confident enough in myself not to blush under other people’s accusations, but… here we were. Ophelia seemed tied to my ability to blush. “I know that,” I said quietly.