"That's what scares me," Elise said, quieter now. "Not that Lex is good. She's great. But I gave five years to this team. I moved across the country for it. I don't have a plan B. Hockey is all I know."
Sienna sipped her coffee and ate a forkful of cake, tart lemon cutting through the sweet icing, the crunch of poppy seeds on her tongue. The café was filling up around them, the gentle clatter of cups and murmur of conversation creating a privacy that felt more intimate than a quiet room.
"I used to be a tennis player," she said.
Elise set her coffee cup down on the saucer. "You mentioned that. Where?"
"San Diego. I was ranked in the junior circuit by the time I was sixteen. My parents were convinced I was going to be the next Michael Chang." She smiled at the memory, which was both fond and painful. "I wasn't. I was good, but I wasn't transcendent. I made it to the professional tour, played a few qualifying rounds at the US Open, and then I destroyed my ankle at nineteen."
Elise set her coffee cup down. "What happened?"
"Stress fracture that I'd been ignoring for months because my parents had sacrificed everything for my career and I couldn't face telling them my body was failing. It collapsed during a match in Brisbane. A second-round qualifier against a player ranked below me. I heard the bone go." She traced the rim of her coffee cup. The memory was old but still had edges, still caught her in the ribs when she turned toward it too quickly. "I spent six months in a boot and another year in rehab, and by the time I could play again, I'd lost my ranking and my sponsorsand most of my confidence. That's when I decided to study medicine."
"So your injury led you here."
"In a roundabout way, yes." Sienna met Elise's eyes across the table. "The worst thing that happened to me became the best thing. I don't say that to minimise what you're going through. I know how it feels to sit on the outside and watch other people live the life you wanted. But sometimes the path changes and you end up somewhere better."
Elise studied her. The café sounds faded. The sun had moved across the table and was touching the edge of Sienna's hand, warm on her knuckles.
"Tell me more," Elise said. "About you. Not the doctor. You."
The question caught Sienna off guard. People didn't ask her about herself. They asked about their injuries, their rehab timelines, their pain levels. They asked her for professional opinions and medical clearances. They didn't lean across café tables with genuine curiosity and ask her to talk about herself as if she were someone worth knowing.
"What do you want to know?"
"Anything. Everything. Where did you grow up? Do you have siblings? What do you do when you're not fixing athletes?"
Sienna laughed. The sound surprised her, light and unguarded in a way she rarely was. "I grew up in San Diego. My father is a cardiologist and my mother was also a doctor and a part time concert pianist. No siblings. I read medical journals for fun, which I know is pathetic. I swim in the ocean three mornings a week because it's the only thing that makes my brain quiet. And I make very good scrambled eggs, as you know."
Elise grinned. A real grin, wide and open, and the heat in Sienna's chest spiked.
"Concert pianist," Elise said. "That explains a lot."
"What does it explain?"
"The attention to detail. The focus. You fold your napkin into perfect squares." Elise nodded at Sienna's hands, where she had, in fact, been folding her napkin into neat quarters without realising it.
Sienna looked down at her hands. The napkin was perfectly squared. She unfolded it with what she hoped was casual grace and set it on the table.
"My mother would be thrilled to know her legacy is napkin folding."
“And you have nice hands and long fingers.”
There was a pause and their eyes met and Sienna felt herself blushing.
"Wait. When you were sixteen on the junior tennis circuit, I was five." Elise's eyebrows rose. "You were competing at the US Open while I was learning to tie my shoes."
"Thank you for that maths. I feel ancient now."
"Not ancient. Seasoned." Elise's mouth twitched. "Distinguished."
"You're making it worse."
"Experienced. Mature. Chronologically blessed."
"I will pour this coffee on your sling."
Elise laughed, and the sound went through Sienna like sunlight through glass, warm and direct and illuminating everything it touched. She was so beautiful when she laughed. Her whole face changed, the worry lines smoothing out, her eyes crinkling, her mouth wide and generous. Her dark hair was drying in loose waves around her face and the sling made her look younger somehow, less armoured, as if the injury had stripped away the composed exterior she usually wore on the ice.