Page 70 of The Last Five Yards

“I need to tell you something,” Reese says quietly.

Maren turns toward her, hands folding together in her lap.

Reese looks down at her wine, turning the glass slowly by the stem. “I have been carrying this feeling for a long time. Longer than I ever admitted to myself.”

Maren waits. She has no idea which way this is going to go, but the heaviness in Reese’s voice is something she recognizes and feels in her core.

Reese sets the glass down and presses her palms flat on the table. “I owe you an apology.”

Maren’s freezes, not with fear but confusion. “Reese, you don’t owe me anything.”

“I do,” Reese says. “Just not for the reasons you think.”

Maren gives her the space to continue.

Reese looks up, eyes searching hers, and for the first time tonight she looks a little unsteady. “You were the first person I ever really loved. I think you know that. And when everything fell apart for me, when I was trying to find something that looked like a life I could trust, I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough. Or like I left because of something you did.”

Maren’s chest aches a little at the tenderness of that. “I know, and I never ever thought that.”

Reese nods, but her voice stays soft. “I fell in love again. With Rowan’s mom. And for a long time, I felt guilty about that. I kept thinking I should have told you sooner, or explained it better, or done something different so it didn’t feel like I disappeared from your life without giving you the full truth.”

“You were allowed to love someone else. We didn’t have expectations,” Maren says gently.

Reese swallows. “I know. But it felt like I was betraying the girl who sat with me on the pool deck after practice talking about the future, like we had any idea what we were doing.”

Maren lets out a soft laugh. “Reese, we were kids.”

“Kids who didn’t know how to let go,” Reese goes on. “And I keep thinking that if I had handled things better, maybe I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.”

Maren looks at her hands for a moment. She can admit it now, at least to herself. Yes, she was hurt. Yes, it had taken years to stop feeling the sting of losing someone she loved without understanding why. But the hurt is not what rises in her now. Something far gentler has taken its place.

She lifts her gaze. “Reese, if things had happened differently, Rowan wouldn’t be here.”

Reese catches herself in that moment. Maren watches the realization move through her.

“I love that kid,” Maren continues. “More than I expected to. More than I even know how to explain. I see myself in her, all the time. All her little quirks. It is like meeting a younger me. So, no. I don’t want an apology for anything that led us to right here, right now.”

The yard seems to fall even quieter after that. Reese blinks slowly, like she is absorbing each word carefully.

“I never wanted you to think I chose a life away from you because you weren’t worth staying for,” Reese says.

“And I never thought that,” Maren replies. “Life isn’t a straight line. You found love. You built a family. You made a kid who is… honestly one of my favorite humans. I wouldn’t change anything that brought her into the world.”

Reese’s eyes shine a little, but she does not look away. “She adores you, you know.”

Maren smiles. “I adore her too. And I was upgraded from coach to friend. Who wouldn’t love that.”

Reese sits back in her chair, exhaling like she has been holding that breath for years instead of minutes. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear you say that.”

“You didn’t have to carry it alone,” Maren says. “I have always been right here.”

Reese nods slowly. “I think part of me kept my distance because I thought I had to pay for what happened. Like I had to stay out of the way so we could heal.”

Maren shakes her head. “If you had stayed, or even if you had come back earlier, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now. We wouldn’t have Rowan’s sign leaving glitter all over my hands.” She lifts her hands and wiggles her fingers, sparkling in the porch light. “We wouldn’t be able to talk like this.”

Reese’s lips curve into a small, honest smile. “She really did shove us into this, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Maren says. “Without even realizing what she was doing.”