TWs: Repeated mentions of panic attacks, veiled mentions of emotional abuses.

"Ted, I'm so sorry," Trent said, as he pulled out his glasses, slid them on, and walked in what he hoped were confident steps toward Ted. "For the article. For just now. Please know that I am truly sorry. For everything. And I meant to say that in the car park, out loud, and I…" He was so used to instantly knowing which words were the right ones, but at the moment he was at a total loss.

Ted was quiet for a moment and Trent could see him working out a response. He was caught off guard when Ted opted for, "Can I buy you a drink?"

Trent's head cocked to the side, trying to decipher Ted's motive. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't think about it too hard, Trent," Ted said patiently, but not at all patronizing. "Just yes or no. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Yes," Trent said, surprised at his own answer.

"Well, okay then." Ted grinned and then took a hand out of his pocket, jerking his thumb to a location unknown behind him. "We could go now, if that works for you."

Too many things were going on in Trent's mind—his locked car, how he was supposed to be going to Allie's, how awful he was still feeling from the interaction with his dad earlier, the sadness he felt not being in the press room after the game, the confusion of why Ted would want to buy him a drink after he wrote that article and how it seemed in the car park that Ted didn't want anything further to do with him that day, the way Thomas used to make plans for him without asking first, how he wanted control of his life but everything felt out of control right then.

It was almost frightening feeling so much and physically not being able to say so.

"…Or, if it doesn't, we can rain check that, no problem. Trent? Are you okay?"

There was a gentle hand on his upper arm. Trent blinked and saw Ted's face come into focus. Ted's grin was gone, though, and replaced with a worried look. "Sorry," Trent said.

"No, that was definitely on me," Ted said as he removed his hand from Trent. "Are you all right? You kinda spaced out there for a second. But not in the fun 'oh hey, I think this special brownie finally kicked in' kinda way." Trent's eyebrows slid up a bit and Ted just shrugged in way that meant it is what it is. "You want to sit down or somethin'? Or I can walk you back to your car?"

"I'm fine," Trent said. "But, a drink would be nice, thank you. We will have to walk, though, or get a cab, as I've actually locked myself out of my car." Part of him felt embarrassed, but a larger part of him did not want to lose out with additional time with Ted and he figured he may as well tell the truth.

"Been there," Ted said in solidarity. "Well, there's a bunch of places nearby, so walkin' is fine by me. The Crown & Anchor is probably nuts right now, so why don't we find you somewhere a little quieter? How does that sound?"

"Quieter is good," Trent said as patted his pockets.

"I feel I should tell you that your glasses are already on your face," Ted said.

Trent chuckled, "Yes, thank you. No, I was making sure I had my phone and wallet."

"You good?" Ted asked.

Trent nodded, feeling both items where they should be on his person. "I am, yes."

"Then away we go," Ted said as he put his hands in his pockets and they fell into step next to each other, walking away from Nelson Road.

"I must ask… your team just earned its promotion back up to the Premier League. Shouldn't you be out celebrating with your fellow coaches or the fans or something?"

"Well, that's the thing, Trent Crimm, Independent, I am doin' just that," Ted said with a knowing smile. "A drink with you is celebratin', ain't it?"

"Is it, though? After what I wrote, I didn't think you'd want to talk to me again, let alone offer to buy me a beverage," Trent admitted.

"Me not wanna talk to somebody? Ha." Ted laughed. "As I recall, you were the one bein' cagey as heck these past few months. That there in the car park was the most you've said to me since that night in the pub when you were interrogatin' me about my non-existent food poisonin'. I figured you were done talkin' to me."

"Hmmmm," Trent hummed, unable to admit why he had been distancing himself from Ted.

"Look," Ted said with a soft sigh as they wove their way past the crowd at the Crown & Anchor to head down the winding path next to it. "I've been worried about you, but I didn't feel right tryin' to ask you what was wrong because that would have seemed unprofessional, what with you writin' about the team and all for work. And then back there, it seemed like you were finally happy again because you weren't gonna be coverin' us anymore. That you were glad to be rid of me and the team." Ted paused to wait for Trent, as Trent got stuck behind a seemingly inebriated walker. "But then when you asked for me to wait and rambled off your apology like you really thought I was mad at you, well heck…" Ted stopped and motioned for Trent to follow him to the side of the walking space so other people could easily pass around them. "I just wanna try and patch things up before even more time slips away is all."

The earnestness behind Ted's eyes was so sincere it made Trent's chest clench. "None of this is your fault, Ted."

"I'm not quite sure what the 'this' you're referin' to is, but somethin' felt off this season, Trent," Ted said. "Plus, there's a few things I'd like to clear the air about now that you know the truth of what happened at that Spurs game. Because I did lie to you about that. And I'm sorry for it."

Ted looked up at where they were and Trent did the same. They were standing in front of a small coffee shop and across the walkway from a pub that appeared to be a little less busy than the Crown & Anchor.

"Looks like the entirety of the beverage spectrum is your oyster, sir," Ted said. "Kindly take your pick, as I am more than fine with either."

Afraid he might say more than he should if tipsy, Trent braced himself and said, "Not the pub, please."

Ted smiled and made a beeline for the coffee shop door to hold it open for Trent. Trent gave a smaller smile in return and stepped over the threshold into an almost sickeningly quaint one-off shop. Handwritten signs in brightly colored chalk boasted a limited menu of coffees, teas, and baked goods. Besides the young woman behind the counter, there was only one other pair of people in the shop (a man and a woman, likely in their 20s… and from the way they were leaning in close, it was likely they were on a date).

Trent scanned the beverage list and wondered if he should go with his usual tea order or if he should embrace the caffeine offered because of how exhausted he was. He looked over to see that Ted was eyeballing the desserts case.

He was reminded of his coffee date with Thomas after Thomas moved back to London and how Thomas wanted to get dinner, but Trent had to insist on coffee. ("We're taking this slow," Trent had said. "Starting over starts with coffee.")

"You know what you want?" Ted asked softly, as he came back over to stand near Trent, their shoulders nearly touching even though there was no need to be that close in a mostly empty shop.

You, Trent thought to himself as he stepped up to the area where one placed an order. "May I please have a latte? Thank you." He looked back toward Ted who joined him up at the till.

"And I'll have a black coffee, thanks," he said with a smile before turning to Trent. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"Just pine nuts," Trent said.

"Noted. Trent Crimm is a pesto-free zone," Ted replied as he turned back to the woman behind the counter. "And can we please get one each of the cranberry apple muffins and the fudge brownies?" When the woman smiled at Ted, he nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate ya." He pulled out his wallet, looked around the shop, and asked Trent, "Would you mind grabbin' some napkins, a handful of sugar packets, and a table? I'll get the drinks and stuff and meet you over there in two shakes."

Trent knew there was no point in trying to reiterate that he's the one who should be treating Ted, so he got the napkins and sugar and spent probably too long figuring out where to sit. There were only small tables with pairs of chairs at each. In the end, he opted for the one furthest away from the couple, even though it meant they'd be seated at the window. Part of Trent thought Ted would prefer that anyway, as he was an observer of people too, only instead of for reporting it seemed to be for reconnaissance and/or general enjoyment.

"I gotta say, I was glad you didn't order tea," Ted said as he approached with the tray carefully balanced in both hands. He set that down and took off his backpack, placing it against his own chair so that it wouldn't take up any room under the table. "I don't know how y'all drink that on a regular basis. It's leaf water. Though I guess coffee is just bean water, ain't it?"

It was easy to tell which drink was Trent's, as his was the only one with foam. He clenched his jaw when he noticed a heart design in the steamed milk. He wondered if the woman who waited on them was just practicing foam art or it perhaps she thought Ted and Trent were together because Ted said we and also paid for both of them. Trent didn't say anything about it when Ted carefully placed his mug in front of him, but he did say, "Thank you."

"Well, thank you right back," Ted said as he sat down and took four of the sugar packets from the pile Trent got. "I'm real glad for this chance to talk."

"Me too," Trent agreed.

Ted smiled as he dumped the sugar into his mug. He picked up a spoon and stirred his coffee around. "I'd a gotten a latte too, but foam and mustache are not a good combo while in the company of others," Ted admitted. He nodded at the baked goods still on the tray between them. "Those are to share, but if you want the whole muffin and/or not special brownie, have at it. I was too nervous about today to each much this mornin', but I know better than to have coffee on an empty stomach. If you thought I was too much before… well, that's nothin' compared to me on a straight-up caffeine kick."

Trent knew Ted was being friendly, but his foam/mustache remark and the if you thought I was too much before self-deprecation both struck Trent as painful anecdotes coated in Ted's signature twang and upbeat attitude so they would go down easy for himself and the person listening. Trent wondered who told Ted he was too much—as if him being himself was a flaw of some sort. Knowing how that felt from his own experiences, Trent wanted to assure Ted that he was very much wanted as-is.

He couldn't say that, though, so he continued his apology tour.

"I am grateful you're not mad at me," Trent said and saw that Ted was on the edge of telling him he was never mad to begin with, so he kept going, "but I'm still truly sorry, Ted. Your private life should be allowed to remain just that and I'm sorry I'm the one responsible for making it public knowledge."

"Yes, your name was on the article, Trent—which was another solid read, I might add. But we both know you didn't go digging for that scoop on your own. Heck, even when you asked me about the Spurs game, I could tell you knew I was lyin' about the food poisonin', but you didn't push me about it. The truth is, I had every opportunity to be honest to you and everyone else, but I was ashamed at the time so I didn't."

"May I asked what changed?"

"Is this all off the record, Trent Crimm, Independent?" Ted asked with a small smile. He sounded like he was joking, but there was a hint of dread tainting Ted's soft voice.

"Of course, yes," Trent said, wholly serious. "I don't even have my notebook on me at the moment."

The look of shock that blossomed on Ted's face was genuine. "Isn't that like bein' without a hand or somethin'?"

Trent nodded a bit. "It is. But I assure you, whatever you say to me today won't be shared online or in print, I promise."

"Just as good old fashioned gossip, right?" Ted said with a knowing smile. "Hey—I'm not accusin' you of anything… I just know, personally, I'll probably end up talkin' to a friend or therapist about our… casual hang… at some point."

"Swap out friend for sister, but yes… I suppose some details about this afternoon might come up with her at some point, especially since I was supposed to go to her place after we spoke earlier." Trent admitted. Ted immediately looked like he had rudely interrupted Trent's day and Trent shook him off. "I'll text her later. Can't go to hers without my car anyway. She'll understand. I mean, she'll take the piss, surely, but it's fine."

"Okay." Ted sighed with relief. "You two are real close, ain't ya," Ted said in a way that Trent knew it wasn't a question but merely a fact.

"We are," Trent shared. "But, Ted…"

"I know, I know, I got us off track…" Ted said, taking a sip of his coffee to stall. "To answer your question—talkin' to a therapist is what changed," Ted said with a shrug. "She helped me get comfortable enough to share my truth about my anxiety with the Diamond Dogs before the Man City game about what happened during the Spurs one."

"Diamond Dogs?" Trent couldn't help but be curious.

"Yeah, that's the official name of a select group of gents from Richmond. We listen to each other's private woes and give advice as needed. It's myself, Coach Beard, Higgins… uh, Nate," Ted said as he scratched an eyebrow, "and we're workin' on Roy. He's kinda an honorary member at this point, but I think he'll be the real deal next season."

"That's quite a circle of trust," Trent said, not realizing his mistake until a fraction of a second too late.

"Well, it was, yeah," Ted said as he broke a small corner off of the brownie.

"We don't have to talk about him," Trent said quietly.

"Thanks," Ted said as he looked out the window and nodded, popping the piece of brownie in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "You know… before you try and apologize again, I actually wanted to thank you for what you wrote. Because you're two for two on writin' articles that had my back. I know you coulda used that profile last season to rip me a new one, but you didn't. You closed that thing sayin' you couldn't help but root for me and that meant a lot at the time. It still does." Ted looked back at Trent and Trent couldn't look away from the painfully sincere eye contact directed at him. "And then this one about the panic attack. Well, I'll be damned if you didn't turn that thing into a loudspeaker for how we need to talk about mental health better within the scope of men's athletics." Ted scooted his chair closer to the table and leaned in a bit. "You took what I'd been afraid of sharin' about myself and surrounded it with facts and numbers and ways for people who might be hurtin' to get help." Ted sat up again. "Like, yeah, it shook me in my shoes when you first sent me that. But the more I thought about it, I realized you're either the most empathetic journalist I've ever met or you personally know someone who's had panic attacks."

Trent's eyebrows instantly twitched and he wondered if Ted could see right through him. He was relived when Ted didn't ask him the question he himself would be asking were their roles reversed and this was on the record.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, though," Ted said with a sad smile on his face. "That panic attack at the Spurs game wasn't my first one." He shook his head and sighed. "Heck, it wasn't even my first one in public." The chuckled that snuck up from the depths of his chest seemed almost cruel. "I had one at a karaoke bar in Liverpool last season after our win there. We were out celebratin' and my fingers started twitchin' and my ears were ringin'. I don't remember runnin', but I know I did because Rebecca found me outside, just sittin' and shakin', thinkin' I was gonna die because I couldn't catch my breath."

He could picture Ted hunched in on himself the way he himself had been in his bathtub after Alice was born. Trent willed the tears prickling the corners of his eyes to stay put.

He wanted to say he understood, but the words wouldn't come. (He can't know me, Trent thought to himself.) Instead he said, "Ms. Welton knew?"

The fond smile that spread across Ted's face seemed intimate and Trent felt a strong pang of jealousy he didn't know he was aware of producing in such a short spurt of time. "She talked me through it without an ounce of judgement—tellin' me I was gonna be okay when I was thinkin' there was no way I was ever gonna be okay again. She'll tell ya otherwise, but that woman is an angel, right here walkin' among us. She's got a singin' voice like one, that's for sure." Trent could not stop his face from shifting into an Oh, really? expression of doubt. Ted chuckled. "She's one of the good ones. She does a real good job of tryin' to keep that under wraps. Sometimes she even fools herself."

"I had no idea," Trent said, though he believed every word. A lesser person in charge might have let Ted go for the panic attacks under some excuse of Ted not being able to handle the stress of the job. But if she had known about it from the start, Trent took it to mean that Ms. Welton believed in Ted very much. Which meant that she likely had Ted's back after his most recent article came out. Perhaps that was another reason Ted was able to be okay about it—his job and relationship with his boss was not at risk. "I'm glad she's been there for you this past year. Especially since your family is so far away."

"Yeah, she's been a lifesaver," Ted agreed as his smiled dropped a bit. "Hey—am I talkin' too much?" He shook his head and started again, grabbing a napkin and folding it in on itself over and over again. "Shit, that's a dumb question… I always talk too much and I tend to ramble when I'm nervous."

Trent wanted to reach across the table and still Ted's worried hands. Instead he broke off a small piece of brownie from their shared plate and shook his head. "No, it's fine." Please keep talking. I will to listen to you for as long as you'll let me. "I'm grateful for the stories. They're your puzzle pieces, Ted. And you're…" Trent was immediately embarrassed he said his puzzle metaphor out loud, so he put the brownie in his mouth and chewed.

"I'm what, Trent?" Ted asked softly. Hopeful. The smallest sparkle of mischief had returned to his eyes.

Determined not to be flustered, Trent swallowed and took a sip of his latte. "You're you." He touched the rim of his glasses and shifted around a bit in his chair. "You're… all of you. You're not just a coach I wrote about for work. You're… you're a man. A friend. A father. A…"

"Divorcé?" Ted provided. "Because it would be an ex-husband, if I'm rememberin' my grammar correctly." He looked down at his ringless finger but Trent made himself focus on Ted's face. "That's why I had that first panic attack, actually. Michelle kept textin' me all day to sign the divorce papers even though she knew I was at an away game. My marriage was over and I didn't really feel like I had a say in how it ended and I guess I just kinda lost it."

Another puzzle piece slid into place and Trent's heart broke because it was another one that was eerily similar to his own.

"I know how that feels," Trent said quietly as his right hand instinctively felt for a ring that had long been gone from his left hand. "Not having a say in how your marriage ended. Feeling like you're coming undone and there's no way to stop it." Trent sighed. "I had my first panic attack about a week after my husband died."

"Oh, man," Ted said. "I'm real sorry for your loss."

Trent nodded and offered Ted a small but grateful smile. "That day in the park… when you asked me if it was my choice that it was just Alice and me. It wasn't." He took off his glasses and set them on the table before sliding a hand through his hair. He had already forgotten about the salon incident from that morning and the silky texture threw him for a second. "At the time I didn't think it would be right to say why. I didn't know you would understand." He looked at Ted who looked torn between wanting to know more and knowing he shouldn't ask. "And I'm so sorry that you do."

Ted reached a hand across the table and Trent's heart leapt, hoping Ted would do what Trent could not. Just as Ted started to wrap his fingers around Trent's, something shattered across the shop. Ted and Trent both pulled their hands away and looked over to see that the couple that had been in the shop with them were leaving and the man had dropped one of their mugs on the floor near the area where guests place their trash and dirty dishes on the way out. The woman who had waited on them earlier was already grabbing a dustbin and broom, assuring the couple that everything was fine.

When they turned back to their conversation, Ted grabbed another napkin and began folding it in on itself to keep his hands busy. "How have you and Alice been doing?"

"Fine." Trent shrugged, trying to press on like Ted hadn't just almost held his hand. "I mean, it's always been just her and me." There was that look from Ted again, eager to learn more but too polite to pry. Or maybe he was just uncomfortable.

"Will you be seeing your son this summer?" Trent asked, hoping that topic was safe. When Ted smiled, Trent assumed he had chosen wisely.

"Yes sir," Ted said. "I'll be flying to Kansas and spending some time there with him and my mama. Then he and I'll fly back here and he'll stay with me for a bit. Michelle'll come pick him up before his school starts back up. He's probably old enough to fly by himself, but we'd rather he didn't, ya know?"

Trent smiled. "So, it's not a trust problem. It's a 'you love him too much' problem."

"Exactly," Ted said. "Is your family nearby? Like, your sister and folks and all?"

Trent nodded. "They are. We all live in London."

"That's nice," Ted said. "Or not?" He added when Trent grimaced involuntarily.

Trent's eyebrows went flat and angled down above the center of his nose. "That's a messy story."

Ted held his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, there's no pressure here. Though, if you've been payin' attention, which I know is your default settin', you'll already know I'm no stranger to messes."

The length of a sip of a latte was not nearly enough time for Trent to weigh the total pros and cons of telling Trent about his dad. "Why are you so goddamn easy to talk to?" Trent wondered aloud.

"I could ask the same of you," Ted countered with a grin. "It's kinda fun not really worryin' what comes outta my mouth right now."

"Even though we've mostly talked about things that have literally caused us to have breakdowns?" Trent had never been this open with someone besides his therapist and his sister.

Ted shrugged. "That might be why it's easy for us to talk," he said. "We both know what it's like to get hurt and keep that hurt inside. It's weirdly nice, though, sharin' sad stories with someone who's not gettin' paid to care about what I say."

"I do care, Ted," Trent said, feeling his cheeks warm.

"I do too," Ted replied softly, but then his face instantly flushed and read flustered. "Because that's what friends are for, right?" His smile was almost too big for the moment as he reached for another napkin to fold.

"Right…" Trent agreed, wanting to kick himself.