Monday morning dawned crisp and clear, the kind of cold that woke every nerve. The Old Mill stood by the river as if it had been waiting for me—its stone walls softened by ivy, timber beams worn with time, window boxes overflowing with color. I crossed the small bridge and stepped inside, my pulse doing a strange, uneven kick.

The lobby was exactly as I remembered, just… fuller somehow. Vintage furnishings. Dark wood paneling. The soft crackle of the stone fireplace warming the edges of the room. Ambient light glowed through the space, catching the polished surfaces. The smell—fresh flowers, old paper, warm wood—settled into my chest with an ache I hadn’t expected.

“Kaiden, welcome back!”

I turned just in time to see Mrs. Whitaker standing by the reception desk—petite, silver-streaked hair in a perfect bun, eyes bright with a kindness that always felt a little disarming. And sharpness. She had that too.

“It’s good to have you here,” she said, voice warm enough to pull something loose in my ribs. “We’ve missed having you around.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Thank you. It’s… good to be back.”
I hadn’t expected anyone to say they missed me. Not here. Not after all the years I spent pretending Eldermoor was just a stopover in my life rather than a place that had actually shaped me.

Two familiar faces popped out from behind the counter. Emma and Lucas. They’d been working here even when we were all technically too young to be serving anyone anything stronger than hot chocolate. Eldermoor was that kind of place—rules bending like old tree branches, the memories sweeter because of it.

“Kaiden! Is that really you?” Emma’s freckles caught the light as she beamed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Lucas grinned wide. “Man, it’s good to see you back. Eldermoor hasn’t been the same without you.”

A flush crept up my neck—pride, disbelief, maybe even gratitude. They remembered me. After everything. After the years I spent trying to blend into cities that never felt like mine. Their recognition hit harder than I thought it would.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Feels like I never really left.”

Mrs. Whitaker clapped her hands with her usual soft authority. “Let’s get you started. We’re counting on you to bring some fresh energy in here.”

As the morning steadied into its routine, she led me into a small sunlit office tucked behind the lobby. Shelves lined the space—ledgers, files, decades of stories bound in dust jackets and leather. My tasks were simple: paperwork, updating contracts, familiarizing myself with everything I’d once known like the back of my hand.

My phone buzzed on the desk.
A text from Nathaniel: “Practice Wednesday.”

Typical. No location. No context. Just Nathaniel.

Parking in Eldermoor was a disaster I had conveniently forgotten about. After circling twice, I finally squeezed into a spot and jogged toward the fields, tightening my laces mid-stride. It wasn’t until I hit the rows of players—clusters of them spread over new turf, the club buzzing after renovations—that I realized Nathaniel hadn’t bothered to tell me where practice actually was.

Then I saw her.

She stood at the edge of the field, sunlight catching strands of her blond hair, posture relaxed but gaze razor sharp. She spotted me instantly and walked over like she already owned the space.

“Saving your energy for the field, huh?” she teased, smirk tugging at her mouth.

I blinked, thrown off balance. “Uh… yeah. Something like that.”

A flicker of amusement crossed her eyes as she stepped in closer—close enough that a piece of her hair brushed my shoulder. Jasmine and wild orange drifted past me, sharp enough to drag up memories of Italy I’d tried to bury.

“You new around here?” she asked.

“More like returning,” I said, scanning the grounds as if they could steady me. “Feels like… maybe I belong here.”

“Well, welcome back.” She bumped her elbow lightly against mine—easy, natural. “If you want your epic comeback, start by winning your first game.”

I studied her, trying to place her confidence, her sharpness, the way she took up space without forcing it. “Just the first?” I said. “I’m planning to win them all. Might even take on The Golden Boy.”

She laughed—an actual snort, quick and unfiltered. “Don’t go breaking the ceiling too fast. Eldermoor keeps even the best humble.”

And then she jogged off, leaving me with a pull in my chest I didn’t have a name for. She had to be Nathaniel’s girl. Still… somewhere in me, a stupid part hoped she wasn’t.

I barely noticed the ball until it smacked into the back of my head.

“Oi! Stop creeping on the women, you city pervert!” Markus shouted. He’d grown, but not enough to intimidate me.

Nathaniel doubled over laughing, clearly thrilled to witness my humiliation. Of course they’d been watching. Waiting for me to slip.

I rubbed the back of my head. “Funny coming from you, Mr. Alpha Male.”

They all circled me—Markus, Leo, a few others—grins wide and relentless.

“Saw you pull up with that slick rental,” Markus said. “Thought you’d have learned to drive by now.”

Leo folded his arms. “Maybe it’s not the parking. Maybe you’re just too busy losing city girls to keep your hands on the wheel.”

I smirked. “At least I’m putting some miles on it.”

Their laughter rolled through the field—teasing, familiar, weirdly grounding. They were sizing me up, sure, but there was something welcoming under it. Like the spot I’d left behind was still mine.

Coach finally stepped in, whistle around his neck. “Alright, new guy. Real test is on the field, not behind the wheel. And trust me—no one here is impressed by shiny cars.”

“Good,” I said, the old fire lighting up. “I’m not here to sit on the sidelines.”

The drills hit fast—sprints, passes, rapid-fire footwork. My lungs burned, muscles screaming, but every movement settled something inside me. Soccer wasn’t a hobby; it was oxygen. The rhythm of it quieted the noise in my head.

After practice, the locker room felt unfamiliar—too polished, too renovated, like time had moved on without warning. The wood gleamed under bright lights, reminding me how much had changed while I was busy pretending I didn’t miss this place.

After the showers, Markus, Leo, and Jay lingered as the others filtered out. Leo hooked his fingers through my bag straps.

“Good to have you back,” he said, grin warm and real. “After the game—drinks on Saturday. Don’t bail.”

“It’s a date,” I replied, clapping their shoulders before heading out.

I made my way toward the clubhouse to check transfer papers and catch up on everything I’d missed—everything I’d tried not to care about until coming home made me realize I did.