House of Cards
Part 26
One wedding topples it all. And apparently Alexia’s house is made of cards and nothing more. A harmless party game meant to entertain guests at the reception implodes her relationship in a way no rational person could see coming. The Euros. A late-night call turned inquisition. An unfollow without remorse. The world watches with baited breath as it all comes tumbling down. And a single Alexia finds herself standing across from Jenni for the first time since they ended. History is the past up until it gets dragged into the present, and then it starts influencing the future.
Wordcount: 7.4k
Warnings: 18+
Masterlist
Part 25 -> Part 26 -> Part 27
Barcelona, Spain — November 2025
"How was camp?" Isla asks as Alexia sits down on the couch she's become rather comfortable with after four months of therapy.
"It was…" Alexia trails off, searching for the right word. "Loaded."
"That is not the word I expected. Care to explain?"
The footballer pauses, unsure exactly where to start. "The football was typical. The federation and all that."
"Jenni was called up this time, no? After a year of not being called?"
The catalana nods.
"How was that?"
"It was electric to hear the stadium chant her name when she came on in the first match. I had goosebumps."
"I can only imagine how she felt," Isla states softly. "How were things between you two? Especially since this was probably a pretty emotional moment for her."
"Good. And then not good. And now better."
Isla laughs. "Happy to hear you ended on better. Can you give me some insight into the rollercoaster there?"
"Things were good. It felt like before—just falling into step with each other. But she overheard me answering a question about what I wanted for the future. I kind of just regurgitated something from the past because honestly I haven't really let myself sit and envision what a future looks like now with her. I didn't want to get my hopes up."
"Okay, so your words hurt her. You didn't mean for her to necessarily overhear your answer, but it hurt nonetheless. How did you move past that?"
"Well, I spent a lot of time thinking over my answer that night, because I knew that the words that came out of my mouth felt off to me. So I sat with myself and unwound why—"
"Good, Alexia! Good. I love hearing that. What came out of it?"
"I don't want that future of Jenni slotting back into life with me in Barcelona from before."
"No? What do you want?" the therapist prods.
"I want better. For her and me. I don't want to slip back into how things were at the end."
"Did you talk with Jenni about that?"
Alexia nods. "She pulled back, chose a different training partner, sat with people between us. I was so confused. And hurt."
"Understandable. Another miscommunication. I assume silence wasn't on the table this time," Isla says with a wry smile. "How did you address it?"
"I asked her to talk. Eventually. I asked what I did wrong. And she didn't hide from me. She answered. She shared the hurt. And I was able to acknowledge it, apologize, and talk her through why that answer plagued me afterwards. I was able to share where my head, and heart, are at now."
"You've made a lot of progress, Alexia," Isla offers softly. "You should be very proud of that. I love that you took this moment of hurt and instead of waiting for Jenni to initiate or spiraling on how she pulled back, you took control to open the floodgates of communication. That's massive. Five months ago, would you have asked her to talk like this? Or would you have pushed down the feeling of rejection and confusion and stayed silent because it felt safer?"
"I wouldn't have made that first move," Alexia admits softly. "It would have killed me, but I would have given her that space and let it become an ocean again."
"Yet here you are, no ocean in sight, right?"
The catalana smiles softly. "It wasn't an easy conversation. But I did it. My heart was in my throat the whole time. I thought she was going to say she realized once we were together in person that I wasn't what she wanted, who she wanted, anymore."
"I'm happy that wasn't the case," Isla states with a smile. "So, you did the hard thing, you had that big conversation you've been dreading. Now what? She's back in Mexico?"
Alexia nods.
"So where did you leave things off?"
"I told her the future I want includes her. And she told me the same."
Isla smiles softly.
"I told her if she wants Mexico or Spain or some other league, I'll make it work. Because who I call home is more important than where."
"Dare I say you've turned into a romantic," the therapist teases.
Alexia blushes, head ducking. "She told me she can't stand my house."
Isla's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Why?"
"I get it," the footballer soothes. "I built that house without her. I didn't realize it at the time, but it's the one we dreamed up together. And then the woman I started dating right after her is who lived there with me. Not Jenni. It's wrapped up in hurtful memories of our ending and me hiding my struggle. Jenni only saw me moving on, going out clubbing with my new girlfriend. I understand it. Really."
"When you add that layer of detail, I can see the reasoning," the therapist concedes. "So what's your plan there?"
"I'm going to sell it," Alexia replies simply.
"Just like that?"
Alexia shrugs. "I'm not sure where we're going to land, but I know even if Barcelona is ultimately where we set down roots, it will never be in that house."
"And you're okay with that?" Isla prods, wanting confirmation Alexia isn't trading off her wants to appease Jenni's.
"I am," Alexia replies with a smile. "It's a nice house. But it's never been home. My mami's house was home for many years. And then my apartment with Jenni. I'm realizing the people make it feel like that, not the address."
Isla smiles. "Good. That's really good, Alexia. Now that Jenni is back in Mexico, how has your communication been? I know you have struggled with the superficial level of conversation you've both been circling."
"It's good," the footballer replies softly. "During our talk Jenni shared some of her boundaries she needs this time around. And I got to add a few of my own."
The therapist leans forward. "Boundaries? Are you willing to share?"
"No breakup without couples therapy for three months first. We both strongly agree on that."
The therapist nods. Very reasonable considering the past history.
"Decisions are a two-person discussion. I don't get to forge ahead but neither does Jenni get to drag her feet and leave me in limbo."
Very perceptive of their downfall last time.
"We communicate to each other, not third parties. We each agreed on a trusted friend to act as a second-sounding board if needed, but if we use them, we have to circle back to each other and talk."
"These all sound like great pillars in setting up a relationship that will survive the headwinds you faced last time," Isla states with a nod.
Alexia returns the gesture. "I think so too. I added in that we don't hide fears from each other. If we feel we can't voice them, then we write them down and share them that way. But they can't be buried anymore."
"Love it," the therapist whispers.
"Another one of mine is that we each share one deep thing a day so we can rebuild back to communicating about more than surface-level stuff. Maybe it's a thought I had and didn't say. Maybe it's something about the future. Maybe it's something about the past. But it's intentional connection about something nobody else got to know about me that day."
"Sounds like I might be out of a job here soon," Isla states with a grin. "You've really jumped into therapy with a tenacity that is unmatched, Alexia. It's highly unusual, you know."
"I don't know how to do things half way," the catalana replies quietly. "My dad instilled that in me. And don't worry—Jenni and I agree that each of us continuing therapy is necessary."
"I'm glad to hear that," the therapist states. "And not just because of the job security," she throws in with a wink.
Alexia frowns lightly. "Jenni has fear around losing herself in our relationship. She said it almost destroyed her last time because we were so enmeshed that she didn't know how to be happy by herself anymore."
"I can understand why that's a fear for her."
"Me too," Alexia admits softly. "I hate that she feels that way, but I can see why. I can see why our engagement ending the way it did and how I handled it and the unfairness of my day-to-day appearing basically unchanged even if I was drowning inside at losing her painted this much different experience for her compared to what I lived through. My suffering was largely internal. Hers was both internal and external. So I understand where the fear is coming from. I'm just unsure how to alleviate it."
"Maybe you're not meant to," Isla replies.
"No?" the footballer asks.
"Maybe you're just meant to listen and understand and create space for her to voice that fear and navigate through it herself. You don't try to smooth out the edges, but you bear witness to her path. You acknowledge what she has lived and battled through by being the person who helps her avoid falling into that trap again."
"Okay," Alexia says slowly. "And I do that how?"
"You hold her accountable to owning her happiness. You push her to surround herself and your relationship with connections or hobbies or moments that are entirely for her. You give her that space and understanding that her doing something alone or without you is not creating distance or pulling away from you but embracing herself first so her best version can show up in your relationship," the therapist states.
Alexia listens silently, eyes wide as she takes in the first bit of real advice on how she can show up for Jenni in a way she never did before.
"She will likely feel guilty trying to balance the two. You meet that guilt with reassurance that it is okay for her to meet her needs too within this relationship," Isla says. "You reassure her that your relationship is strong enough to support you both being independent people who can spend time away from each other when it's needed. You show her that by also living it yourself. Your relationship cannot be the only stress relief from what is a high stakes career, Alexia. Jenni can't be the sole one responsible for keeping you level. You need to find things that make you happy that are not dependent on her. And vice versa."
The footballer nods, head reeling as she processes everything Isla is saying. "I can do that," she states quietly. "I will do that."
---------------------------
Monterrey, Mexico — November 2025
Jenni sighs lightly as she settles onto her couch, recovery boots in place and a post-training smoothie in her hand. It's going to be a chill night at home today. Tigres' playoff bid has meant endless training sessions and matches in quick succession. And her body is feeling it in ways it never did in her early-20s.
The madrileña has barely sat down when her phone rings loudly in the otherwise quiet apartment.
Looking at the name, she frowns.
Why is Rafa calling her at two in the morning Madrid time?
Something isn't right.
Jenni leans forward, grabbing the phone and answering the FaceTime call before the screen goes black.
"Rafa? What's wrong?"
Her brother's grainy image meets her before the feed sharpens.
Instead of the usual retort or joke, she's met with a serious face she's only seen a handful of times before—when delivering bad news.
Jenni's heart leaps into her throat.
Oh no.
"Rafa?" she asks, voice much smaller and reminiscent of a six year old Jenni calling out to her much older brother to come check for monsters under the bed in the middle of the night. "Who is it?"
"Mama," the older Hermoso exhales.
"What about Mama?" Jenni demands, voice trembling. "Rafa! What about Mama?"
"She's in the hospital," he sighs heavily. "Something is going on with her heart."
"What happened?"
"She was complaining about pains in her chest. We thought it was just stress. You know, long week on her feet and all. But when it didn't get better after forcing her to rest, I took her to the hospital."
"Wh-what are they saying?" Jenni asks, voice trembling.
"They took her back immediately. They're still running tests."
"Fuck," the madrileña breathes out, heart thumping madly as cold dread settles into her veins. She can't lose her mom. She can't. Her family means everything to her, and her mother is the center of it all.
"I just thought you needed to know," her brother cuts in. "There isn't much more to share now."
"No, thank you Rafa. I'll get a leave of absence from the team. I'll be there as soon as I—"
"No," a soft voice cuts in.
Her mama.
"No, Jenni," Soledad states, exhaustion present in her voice.
"Mama!" the footballer exclaims as Rafa hands the phone over until her mother is in frame. "Mama—"
"Jennifer, I haven't heard you as excited about this championship push since that first win with Rayo all those years ago. You stay, mi hija. You win that trophy. I'm fine."
"Chest pains do not mean fine," the striker argues, eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Chest pains are very serious. That means something is wrong with your heart, no?"
Soledad waves her hand nonchalantly. "I'm feeling better. You know doctors. Bunch of worriers they are."
"Rafa" Jenni exclaims, "please, tell her this is serious."
"It's serious, Mama," a voice chimes in dryly from off screen.
The footballer groans. "Make it more believable that you're worried too, Rafa. Come on now."
As the siblings start to squawk at each other across thousands of miles and one phone connection, their mother smiles and rolls her eyes.
These two never change. They are best buddies until they get on each other's nerves and then the bickering starts nonstop.
Soledad shifts in the bed and groans lightly.
"Shut up Rafa!" Jenni demands, attention turning back to her mom. "Mama? What is it? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, my girl!" the older woman replies. "This bed is so uncomfortable. I can't wait to go home. I'll be here when you win your championship and come back to Spain in three weeks. Don't you dare come a second before, Jennifer. I know how much winning this title in Mexico means for you and the past couple years. Go win it for me, mi sol."
Jenni swallows thickly, eyes wet, as she nods in assent.
"Good girl," her mother mutters. "Now, it's night here, mi amorcito. I love you. I'm fine. But I need some sleep, even if it is on the world's lumpiest mattress."
The madrileña blows out a breath, a chuckle escaping as she does so.
If her mother is joking, things can't be too bad, right?
Right before Jenni is about to hang up the call, she hears a third voice enter the room.
Rafa's phone sits in his hand forgotten, camera pointed up at the hospital tiled ceiling as his focus gets pulled to the doctor who has entered the space.
Jenni stays silent, listening to the conversation from an ocean away.
"Hello. I'm Dr. López. I'm one of the resident cardiologists on staff tonight. I took a look at the test results. You have a blockage noted in one artery of about 40%. This is likely what is causing the chest pain as the blockage is narrowing the artery and restricting the flow of oxygen-rich blood. I have a request in to have one of the cardiothoracic surgeons touch base with you tomorrow on next steps."
"That sounds bad, no?" Rafa asks immediately.
"Yes and no," the doctor replies. "A blockage is obviously not ideal state. But the percentage of blockage, stability of the plaque causing the blockage, and location is all a factor in determining how quickly to act and if surgery is needed. The surgeon tomorrow will be able to provide a much better estimate on risk. But I'll just say that tonight alone, I've seen five other patients with much higher blockage percentages than your mother's here."
Jenni blows out a breath.
"Thank you doctor," her mother states calmly. "We'll wait for the surgeon tomorrow. Rafa, send a text to Silvia and my sister. And we'll call Jenni in the morning. I know she'd just worry all night if you told her right now."
"Mama, I know you're thinking of her. But in her shoes, I'd want to know now. Ah, actually, looks like I never hung up. Jenni, did you hear all that?"
"Yes," the striker replies. "You call me tomorrow when the surgeon comes into the room, okay?"
"The time difference—" her mother starts.
"No, Mama. I haven't called my coach to request the time off at your insistence. You let me be insistent here. I'm sleeping with my volume all the way up. You call me when that surgeon comes to talk to you," the firm edge of her tone is not one to dismiss.
"Okay, Jenni. Okay. Rafa will call you."
"Thank you, Mama," Jenni replies softly. "It's so hard being so far away from you."
"I know, my girl," the matriarch agrees. "I know. Stay strong. We'll chat tomorrow, okay? Love you."
"Love you, Mama," the younger woman whispers.
"What am I? Chopped liver? Where's my lov—"
The phone call cuts off, Jenni's mother ending the call mid-rant by Rafa at not getting the same affectionate affirmation.
The striker laughs despite the weight on her chest. Rafa is such a drama king.
In the silent aftermath, Jenni is left with only her spiking anxiety as the reality of the situation sinks in.
Her mother is in the hospital.
She has a blocked artery.
That must mean surgery, no?
Heart surgery.
And that is a massive deal.
Breath coming faster as her anxiety starts turning into panic, the madrileña's fingers act without her conscious thought. The FaceTime call button is pushed before she even registers the name.
Alexia.
Alexia who lives in Barcelona, bound by the same time zone as her home Madrid.
Looking at the clock Jenni calculates the time difference. It's just a touch over 3am now.
The striker pulls the phone away to end the call, guilt seeping in as she realizes Alexia is likely sleeping like the vast majority of the country.
"Jenni?" A sleep-tinged voice asks from the other end of the phone, image dark. "What's wrong?" The catalana questions, alertness growing as the seconds tick by.
A lamp clicks on, revealing a squinting Alexia, hair mussed and an old t-shirt Jenni recognizes as one she got years back in Sweden. The midfielder had claimed it long ago as hers.
Jenni tries to suck down the sob in her throat, but it escapes, lip wobbling.
"Jenni," Alexia gently replies at hearing the broken sound. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Fuck, I wish I was there. Talk to me, Jenni. Please. The silence is scaring me."
The midfielder so openly sharing how she's feeling somehow makes it easier to do so herself for the striker.
"Mama. Ale…" is all she can get out at first.
A sharp inhale by the catalana precedes her shaky response. "What about Mama, Jenni?"
"She's in the hospital."
"The hospital," Alexia replies faintly.
Jenni knows just the mention of a parent in the hospital sends panic through the younger woman's chest, mind flooding with memories of those last weeks with her father in a hospital bed with bright white linen and the antiseptic smell of the building replacing his usual comforting scent.
"Her heart," the madrileña states, voice cracking as the dam breaks and she starts crying in earnest. "It's her heart, Alex."
"No," the catalana replies in a horrified whisper. "No!"
"They said she has a blocked artery. 40% I think it was? The heart surgeon is going to talk to her tomorrow I guess. We'll know then what we're looking at."
"What hospital is she in?"
"I didn't ask," Jenni replies. "I assume the closest one to home. But I'll ask Rafa. He's with her."
"Okay," Alexia mutters, hands reaching for her laptop on the nearby dresser. Settling back on the bed, she props her phone up against the screen and opens up flights from Barcelona to Madrid. "There's a 8am flight. Shit it's sold out. Oh, oh! Okay there's a first class seat open—"
"Ale, what are you doing?" Jenni asks bewildered.
"Booking a flight to Madrid."
"You have a match in two days!"
"So?" the catalana replies. "I'm an hour and a half flight away, Jenni. We play Deportivo this week. It is a match I can easily miss. The youngsters could all play, and we'd still win easily. I just texted Pere to let him know I have a family emergency and will be out for a few days."
"Ale, no, you don't have to—"
The midfielder pauses, looking up slowly. "Soledad is my family" she says quietly, cutting off the striker. "I know she's your Mama, Jenni. But I love her too. I want to be there."
"Okay," Jenni relents, voice soft. "Thank you, Alex."
"There's nothing to thank. You would do the same for my Mami."
"I would," the madrileña agrees, letting the last bit of fight drain out of her tone because Alexia is right. If Jenni was in spitting distance and Eli ended up in the hospital, very little could deter her from making her way to Barcelona. And if she'd accept that kind of commitment from herself without thought, she has to allow Alexia the same and trust she's prioritizing what matters most to her.
Love blooms within the cracks of inconvenience. And Alexia's in particular is flowering.
“I told Mama I was going to ask for a leave of absence and she just about chewed me out."
The midfielder laughs lightly. "Your championship push has been all she's been talking about."
That makes Jenni freeze. "You and my Mama have been talking?"
The younger woman blushes, eyes diverting off to the side. "She called me a while back. And it just turned into Wednesday calls to catch up, I guess."
Jenni's chest aches. Alexia and her Mama having their own connection outside of her hurts, but in the best way. She never could have put into words to the catalana that one of the ways to mend the ache from their ending she still carries with her would be by integrating back into her family without Jenni being the trigger.
Alexia has a weekly phone call with her Mama because she wants to, not because of obligation or for praise. This is the first the striker has heard anything about it, and clearly the midfielder is embarrassed she let it slip in the first place. The action isn't for performance, it's just Alexia loving her people. And Jenni's Mama is part of that circle.
And that adds some color to the younger woman's instant response to check on the next flight to Madrid. Because when Alexia loves someone, she's fiercely protective and immensely soft.
It clicks for Jenni then.
Alexia is scared. Another parental figure in the hospital with a heart issue? She's lived that before. And it didn't end well. She knows that pain and doesn't want to live it again. More importantly, she doesn't want Jenni to ever have to live that pain.
The catalana is protecting the best she knows how. By going to see Soledad with her own eyes and assess the situation where Jenni can't. A FaceTime call can only do so much, especially when the camera can't read the room they way a person can.
"Thank you," Jenni murmurs softly.
"You don't—"
"No. Thank you for loving her like you do," the striker interrupts. "Thank you for loving my family like your own. Thank you for getting on the next flight just to go make sure she's okay. It means more than you know."
Alexia nods. "My love for you came first, but I love your family too, Jenni. Just like I know you love mine."
"We really intertwined them all years ago didn't we?" the madrileña asks with a small smile.
"I'm pretty sure Alba and Rafa have a bet that's still ongoing about us."
Jenni snorts. "That wouldn't surprise me at all."
Alexia smiles and shakes her head, hair still chaotic.
"I should let you get a least another hour or two of sleep," the dark-haired woman states softly. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I didn't even think when Rafa ended our call, I just immediately dialed you because I was panicking."
"I want you to wake me up every time," the catalana replies instantly.
"You want my pretty face to wake you up every morning at 3am?" Jenni teases just to watch the pink bloom across the younger woman's cheeks.
She doesn't disappoint.
"Well, maybe not 3am everyday. But yes, I would like to wake up to your face," Alexia replies before her voice takes on a more serious tone. "I want you to wake me up when you're panicking or sad or lonely. I want to be the first person you reach for when you need someone."
The truth is said quietly, a whispered wish put out to the stars to carry.
"You already are, Ale."
With one sentence, Jenni puts to bed the worry still silently lurking in the back corners for Alexia. Something she knows is there but hasn't wanted to voice: her fear that Jenni will never be able to allow herself to rely on the catalana as her safe place again.
They may still be working their way back slowly to the equilibrium of them in a relationship, but the trust is building back day by day.
As they say soft goodbyes with a promise to talk later once Alexia is in Madrid, Jenni leans back against her couch and exhales slowly.
Tonight has not gone the way she envisioned when she sat down on the couch after a long day of training.
But Alexia made the fear soften.
She made the worry lighten.
She left Jenni grounded.
And the striker can't help but compare tonight to that time when her Mama's health scare had her spiraling and her fiancée, even if they were on a break, wasn't quite there in the way she needed.
Jenni now knows why Alexia acted the way she did.
But seeing the woman show up so effortlessly tonight leaves Jenni's heart aching for the her of the past who navigated the fear alone before.
Alexia's support so easily soothed her panic this time around, when things appear much more serious for her mother.
As Jenni relaxes back onto her couch later that night, dinner now eaten in a contemplative haze and the television turned onto some inconsequential match, she realizes that while she can navigate the world alone, having a person you trust your fears with, your family with, really makes all the difference.
And that person for her has always been Alexia.
---------------------------
Madrid, Spain — February 2019
Alexia blows out a breath of frustration as the referee blows the final whistle.
Barcelona have been kicked out of contention for the Copa de la Reina title.
By Atlético Madrid.
And Jenni.
Her own girlfriend is the biggest cause of her headache at the moment seeing as how the whole match ended up a tit for tat back-and-forth between them.
Jenni is a menace when they aren't on the same team.
She spent most of the match pressed up against Alexia's back, a long leg slotting between hers trying to poke the ball out of her possession. And then the jersey pulls and the holding the ball hostage on free kicks, though Alexia smirks, she herself did that too.
Jenni definitely caught her across the face. Maybe it wasn't as hard as she played it up, but there was contact.
Should she feel bad for the madrileña's yellow card that came from that altercation?
Well, it's hard to feel sorry at the moment as Barcelona lay down in defeat largely at Jenni's hand.
Speak of the devil. The tall striker strides over to her catalana, a grin in place and dimples showing.
Alexia's heart thumps in her chest. It's been a few weeks since they've seen each other in person.
"There's my girl," Jenni murmurs.
The midfielder grunts. She's still a touch salty at the outcome of the match.
The madrileña laughs, an arm slipping over Alexia's shoulder and drawing her body in against her own. "Ale, really? What happened to 'when the match is over, none of it matters'? Hmm?"
"I said that when I thought we were going to win," the young woman replies with a frown.
Jenni laughs softly, lips finding Alexia's ear. "Today was not your day, my love. But tonight? I think you'll be happy."
"Oh?" the catalana asks softly, eyes wide. "What are we doing tonight?"
"Tonight is ours," the striker answers. "I got us a room so we can have a little privacy. And tomorrow is brunch with my family before Barcelona calls you back."
Alexia swallows audibly. "Meet near the locker rooms in an hour?"
Jenni grins. "If you can wait that long," she says with a wink and shoulder squeeze before she heads off to finish signing autographs for some of the younger fans.
The night definitely makes Alexia happy.
Her and Jenni and a bed nowhere near any teammates or family or friends is bound to do that.
The madrileña may still have to shush her a few times, but she really can't be expected to be quiet when it's been three weeks without her girlfriend.
In the afterglow, though, the silence turns still in a way that feels off.
"You okay?" Alexia asks softly, a hand running gently down Jenni's chest to tuck in besides her ribs.
"Yeah," Jenni murmurs.
"No you aren't," the catalana counters, leaning up on an elbow to watch the striker's face. "What's wrong?"
Jenni blows out a heavy sigh. "I just—"
"Tell me. We can solve anything together. You know that."
The madrileña smiles softly. "We can," she admits. "Okay. I'm just thinking about next season."
"Next season?"
"Yeah. I only signed one year with Atleti. Barcelona have indicated they're interested—"
Alexia laughs. "Of course they're interested! You handed us our assess today."
Jenni sighs. "I'm not really worried about the club. I'm more worried about the fans. They're so Barça coded. What if they don't accept me back because I left for PSG?"
"Then they're not fucking fans of the club," the catalana replies with a frown. "We need you. We're better with you. I'm better with you. Everyone can see it."
"It was weird competing against you today," Jenni admits. "I kept wanting to pass you the ball."
"You should have," Alexia jokes. "Maybe we would have won then."
"You really think I'll be welcomed back with open arms?"
The fear seeps into the question, and Alexia softens further, hands reaching up to cup the striker's cheeks.
"I know it," she responds. "You have given so much to the club. And at least you signing back with Barcelona means we will win the Copa de la Reina next year."
Jenni smiles. "I'll make sure you get a goal in the final."
"And I'll get you one too," the catalana replies. "We're better together. Everybody knows that. Culers included."
The striker nods, sighing lightly as the last of her tension eases out. "You're always so good at saying the right thing."
"Hardly," Alexia replies. "I just know how to love you."
"You do," Jenni admits, pulling the midfielder down onto the bed and rolling her body over top halfway, leg slotting in between the catalana's strong thighs as a dark head of hair settles onto the younger woman's shoulder.
The silence is now cloaked in peace and the tired thrum of a day full of physical activity slowly fading into restful sleep.
It's just before she slips under that Alexia slips in "for the record, you did catch my eye on that foul."
Jenni's head lifts up incredulously. "I did not! You are so dramatic, Putellas. It was barely a love tap!"
Alexia laughs, chest lifting the striker still draped across her up as well. "Your love taps usually feel a whole lot nicer than that…"
The madrileña grins and settles back down on her makeshift pillow. "Maybe if you're a good girl and admit you flopped, I'll consider giving you another very nice love tap in the morning before you go eat breakfast with my entire family and have to pretend I didn't just eat you."
"Jennifer!" Alexia exclaims, face flushing with heat.
The madrileña chuckles into the younger woman's shoulder. "You pretend to be so pure and proper, but the moans I pull out of you are so damn filthy."
Alexia groans but it turns into a yawn halfway through. "Go to sleep you cheeky woman."
"Your cheeky woman," the striker slurs as sleep closes in fast.
"Always mine," the catalana quietly affirms, an arm locking around Jenni's back as she too finally slips off into dreamland.
---------------------------
Monterrey, Mexico — November 2025
Jenni's breath heaves as the final whistle blows. The 0-0 tie one second leg against Juárez means Tigres advance to the Apertura semi-finals off their one goal win from the first leg.
She's happy.
She is.
But it feels impossible to catch her breath.
The harder she tries, the faster her breath seems to leave her, lungs never fully filling up with air.
She sits down on the pitch, try to quell the panic in her chest as everything bubbles up from the recent week.
Her mom is awaiting surgery, on a list somewhere in Madrid where powers that be have consolidated people's loved ones down to numbers and statistics and rank of who has a worse heart. Apparently a 40% blockage isn't serious enough to warrant immediate surgery.
Instead her mother is back home, waiting. And they all just have to hope that she doesn't have a heart attack in the meantime while she waits.
It's been agonizing.
And then the match at Juárez was physical and emotionally draining seeing Norma up close again.
Jenni knows she made the right choice. But it's still hard to face your decisions head on. It's still hard to look at someone you once loved, someone you know you hurt.
Norma for her part didn't make it any harder.
She could have.
She probably should have.
But she didn't.
A quick head nod from across the pitch, and that was it. She doesn't know about Jenni's Mama. And considering how separate she kept her life, Norma only ever spoke to her maybe two times over the course of their relationship. So telling Norma about her mom's health issues now doesn't seem appropriate or necessary.
Not when the woman will be kind. Like Alexia, she knows the pain of losing a parent firsthand. Those who have been through hell are always the first to lend a shoulder because they understand the weight of the moment in ways others never could.
Fer comes and sits with her.
Tears make an appearance now as the panic truly starts rolling in with every labored breath.
Fer must signal to one of the medical staff because then a yellow wind breaker is being placed around her and a gentle voice is talking her through deep, metered breathing.
It helps some.
"We're going to take you and Alexia to the hospital to get checked out. She's having breathing problems too."
It's probably her altered state after a ninety-minute exhausting and physical match, but the first thought that pops into her head at that statement is relief that Alexia is here.
The reality catches up a second later when Jenni realizes the trainer means Alexia Delgado, her teammate. Not her Alexia.
Her Alexia is in Spain.
Jenni's chest clenches painfully at that reminder. She needs Alexia with her now, keeping her calm, soothing away her fear.
The madrileña manages to keep herself level enough until at the hospital. Her and Alexia are placed into separate hypobaric chambers to increase oxygen flow. The doctor mentioned the breathing issues she experienced post-match are a mix of that cold she couldn't seem to shake last week and the high-intensity play at altitude last week in Juárez putting immense strain on her lungs. Another match in quick succession before her body could fully heal had pushed it over the edge.
Once situated in the chamber, a match playing on the television within the bubble dome that is her home for the next three hours, Jenni calls Alexia.
It's late in Monterrey, which means it's just hitting early morning in Barcelona. At least it isn't 3am this time.
Should she feel bad for how frequently she's relied on Alexia this past week? Jenni frowns as she contemplates that.
Alexia picks up the call a second later, her face filling the screen. "Going to get me used to these personal wake-up calls," she jokes, stretching as a yawn takes over her mouth.
"Sorry—"
"No, I like it," the catalana replies with a grin. "Best way to start my day. Wait, where are you?" she asks, squinting at the screen.
"Um, the hospital," Jenni answers.
"The hospital!" the catalana exclaims, jumping out of bed. "Why? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I was having trouble breathing after the match. The altitude from the last match didn't help, and there's so little time to recover between these matches."
"Okay," Alexia tells herself, "you're okay, you're safe."
Jenni smiles. Now Alexia is the one needing the calm. "I'm okay, Ale. I just missed you and wanted to talk."
That lands well. Alexia stops her mumbling and smiles. "I miss you too."
"I was panicking on the field a bit," the striker admits, eyes closing. "I couldn't breathe. And the trainer told me that Alexia was having breathing problems too. And I thought she meant you at first. And my whole body just lit up like 'oh, Alexia is here for me'. But she meant my teammate Alexia," Jenni finishes with a small laugh.
"I wish I was there, Jenni. Fuck, I wish I was there with you."
"Only a couple more weeks," the madrileña responds. "I'll be back home in a couple weeks. And we have the Nations League final and then a whole month in Spain."
"I can't wait," the midfielder replies softly. "I know you'll want to spend a lot of the time with you family. But maybe we could spend some time together too?"
Jenni laughs, bright and light. "Ale!" she exclaims with a grin, dimples showing. "Of course I'm seeing family but I thought we'd spend most of it together?"
"Yeah?" the younger woman asks, eyes eager and bottom lip bit between her teeth as a shyness takes over her. "I didn't want to assume."
"Yeah," Jenni replies. "I've missed you. I want to spend time with you."
"Me too. I, um, moved into a new place. Maybe I can show you it. If you'd want to come to Barcelona," she rushes to finish. "But I mean I can spend the time in Madrid if you prefer."
"I want to see your new place, Ale. And spend time with Mami and Alba. Maybe we can do dinner with Torre and Caro and Irene and Lucía?"
"That sounds lovely," Alexia responds. "Can I, um," she starts, stumbling over her words slightly, "Uh, well, um, can I take you out? Like on a date? If you want, I mean—"
"I want," Jenni cuts in. "I want you, Alexia. We've been taking it slow, and I think that's been good for us. But this last week or so has really reminded me why you are my person. When everything feels chaotic, and my head is spinning, you are the first person I reach for to calm me down. You're my safe place."
Alexia clears her throat, eyes suspiciously wet. "Good. Because you're my safe place too."
"Maybe we can do something at the start of camp? Get lunch just us or something? I'm going to try and swing by Mama's place right when I get in to check on her. I still can’t believe they have her waiting for surgery. Do you want to come? I know you just saw her last week, but you know she'd love to see you?"
A ringtone interrupts Alexia's response. Jenni watches her brows furrow before she hurriedly states, "I have to take this call, Jenni. I'll call you back later?"
The madrileña nods. "Sure, Ale."
"Take it easy. Love you!" the catalana rushes out before disconnecting the call.
Jenni knows it was a reflex. She's not even sure the younger woman caught what she just said. But it leaves the striker's chest swelling in a way it hasn't in years all the same.
---------------------------
Barcelona, Spain — November 2025
Alexia's morning is a whirlwind of calls and favors and arranging schedules.
And then it is straight to practice and gym and recovery.
She only has a second to breathe once she's back home. Even then, though, her mind is running.
Her hands work on autopilot, cutting up the garlic, the onion, the herbs. Her mami's side of the family is having their big Sunday dinner tonight.
Alexia is attending.
She made sure to keep her schedule clear.
And for the first time in ages, she's bringing food she made herself. In her own kitchen with her own hands. Not by some fancy chef at the newest restaurant or pastries from the local bakery.
She's putting in the effort to show the family she still cherishes them, this, the connection to her roots.
She hasn't told anyone.
It's a surprise. One she hopes is welcomed.
As the garlic and onion sizzle in the pan, the aroma taking over the kitchen in that deliciously pungent way, she gasps. Her mind is finally replaying her morning call with Jenni.
She said it.
She's been keeping herself in check for months.
But it slipped out.
When she was rushing off the phone for an important call, head already distracted.
She told Jenni she loved her.
And not in a romantic way, with candles and soft words and face-to-face. But in a hurried fashion as she raced to get off the call.
Groaning, Alexia drags a hand down her face.
How did she manage to fuck it all up?
She asked Jenni on a date. The one she planned to use to tell the madrileña those words again for the first time in years. And then just spilled them out at the end of the call like a little kid unable to contain herself.
A text dings through her phone.
The catalana reaches for it, assuming it's about the arrangements from this morning.
It's not.
(Jenni) I'm not sure if you meant to say it But I love you too
Alexia's breath hitches, phone cradled in her hands like she's physically holding Jenni's heart.
The garlic starts to burn.
Cursing, the catalana takes the pan off the stove. Hopefully the family won't hold it against her.
She laughs, body light with the air of hope and love and a future shaping up she never could have expected to find again.
(Alexia) You think I would have fumbled my way through asking you out on a date just to drop the 'I love you' bomb like that? I'm glad it slipped out, though Because I do, I love you more than I can ever say
Jenni must be sitting there waiting because her response comes through immediately.
(Jenni) I won't ever say no (anymore more 😬) to you saying it But you show me it everyday, Ale And I think that's even rarer than saying it
A sob escapes her, tears falling freely. All she's wanted these past months is to prove to Jenni her love doesn't have to be a burden this time around. That Alexia's love can fill all the gaps it didn't before and not be a source of pain.
Jenni feels the love.
She accepts it.
And she reciprocates.
Months, hell years, of pent-up anger at herself and frustration and sadness about how things broken down between them wash out of her soul with that cry.
Sometimes the only way to whisk away the sadness clinging to the past is with tears made of happier stuff.
And Jenni loving her is just about as happy as it gets in her world.
Part 27
