Page 29 of Star Rucked Lovers

“Sit, mate,” Tommy said, patting the empty patch of blanket next to him. “I can see the gears turning in that big head of yours.”

“Yeah, come on,” Elisa added warmly, offering George a water bottle. “You’ve been brooding all morning. Let us help you unpack whatever’s weighing you down.”

“Brooding,” George muttered, taking the bottle but not sitting just yet. “Not sure that’s the word I’d use.”

“Would you prefer sulking?” Tommy teased, earning a playful swat from Elisa.

“Alright, alright.” George chuckled despite himself and sank onto the blanket. He stretched his legs out in front of him, his long frame sprawling awkwardly compared to Tommy’s compact, casual ease. For a moment, he just watched the twins, one climbing the monkey bars, the other chasing a pigeon with wild abandon.

“How do you do it?” George asked suddenly, his voice quieter now. “All of this. Balancing it, I mean. Your career, your family…”

Tommy exchanged a glance with Elisa before responding. “It’s not easy, mate. Never is. You think we haven’t had our fair share of arguments about priorities? About time? Hell, there were weeks—months—when I was playing that Elisa barely saw me except to hand me the laundry bag.”

“True story,” Elisa chimed in with a light laugh. “But we worked through it because we both wanted it to work. That’s the thing, George, you’ve got to want it enough to fight for it. Both of you.”

“Both of us,” George echoed under his breath, twisting the cap off the water bottle. His thoughts drifted unbidden to Myst; her determined expression when she talked about her music, the way her laugh lit up a room, how she always smelled faintly of jasmine, even after hours under stage lights. He wondered what she was doing right now. If she was thinking about him too.

“Look, I get it,” Tommy continued, leaning back on his elbows. “Being with someone like Myst, someone who lives her life in the spotlight… It’s not the same as being with Elisa here, who’s happy to stay out of the headlines. But that girl clearly means something to you, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here asking these questions.”

“She does,” George admitted, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. “But sometimes it feels… impossible. Like we’re speaking different languages half the time.”

“That’s normal,” Elisa said gently. “Relationships are messy, George. They’re not supposed to be easy. But they’re worth it if you’re willing to put in the effort. The question is…” she paused, looking at him pointedly, “is she worth it to you?”

George didn’t answer right away. He tipped his head back, staring up at the crisscrossing branches overhead and the clear blue winter sky, almost the same shade as Myst’s eyes. Somewhere in the distance, a child squealed with laughter. He thought of the way Myst’s eyes softened when she looked at him, and then of the argument; the anger, the hurt, the door slamming behind her. His chest tightened.

“Come on, Dad!” one of the twins shouted, waving enthusiastically from the swings. “Push us!”

“On my way!” Tommy called back, rising with practiced ease. He gave George a pat on the shoulder as he passed. “Think about it, mate. And don’t take too long. Life doesn’t wait.”

Elisa studied George for a moment, her expression curious. “How’s the deep thinking going?” she asked after a moment.

He laughed without humour. “Exhausting,” he admitted. “Trying to figure out if I’m cut out for this. For being with someone like Myst.”

“Someone like Myst?” Elisa repeated, arching a brow. “You mean someone amazing, talented, and completely smitten with you?”

“Someone whose life is chaos,” George clarified, though her description made his chest ache in a different way. “Someone who’s constantly on the move, surrounded by people, always in the spotlight...”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Elisa said pointedly, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “You’re not exactly living a quiet life yourself, George.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” he argued weakly. “Rugby’s... structured. Predictable, in its own way. Myst’s world…” He shook his head, struggling to find the words. “It’s like trying to hold onto smoke.”

Elisa was quiet for a moment, watching her husband and children. “You know,” she said softly at last, “when Tommy took this job in France, I wasn’t sure how we’d make it work. I worried about the distance, the changes, schooling the kids, being away from our families, the language, so many uncertainties... but at the end of the day, I realized something. It’s not about having all the answers. It’s about choosing each other, every single day. Even when it’s hard.Especiallywhen it’s hard.”

George stared ahead, watching the twins shriek with joy as Tommy pushed them higher on the swings. The simplicity of their joy felt like a world away from the complications he and Myst faced.

“Do you think...” He hesitated, his voice quieter now. “Do you think Myst and I could ever have this? A family, a normal life?”

“Normality’s overrated,” Elisa replied with a smile. “But if you’re asking if you two could have a future together? That’s up to you. Just remember, love doesn’t have to fit into a box to be real. Sometimes it’s messy and chaotic and nothing like you imagined. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

Her words settled over him like a blanket, warm and heavy with truth.

“The thing is,” Elisa continued, “Love isn’t enough on its own. You’ve got to meet her halfway.”

“Halfway,” George repeated softly, almost to himself. As Elisa got up and went to join Tommy and the boys, George stayed rooted to the blanket, his gaze fixed on the idyllic scene in front of him. He couldn’t help but wonder, could this ever be his life with Myst? Or would the demands of her world always keep them apart?

He sighed, picking up the rugby ball again. It felt solid in his grip, dependable. Unlike the mess of uncertainty swirling in his head.

Chapter Ten

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