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Caroline Bartley had once been a girl in love.
Not that she'd known, when all she knew back then were countless practices and competitions against a girl who's wanted for the same medals and wins as she had; when lighthearted shows of rivalry were unknowingly shows of affection; and when she'd somehow deluded herself that her lingering looks on her pretty face and swan-like grace was simply an appreciation of skill, and not a crush that had crashed and burned once Charlotte had gotten into that accident, and had disappeared from the public eye and left a hole in her heart that Caroline had once thought was simply the loss of her equal, and not the biggest what-if of her life.
And now, as she's beguiled under those eyes again, this time, she's not going to try hiding the spark of warmth igniting in her chest under the veneer of denial.
An outside may describe the eyes of the current Charlotte O'Hagan now as cold, bitter as a stagnant deepwater lake, but never will she associate her with any of those descriptors.
Charlo— Willow might have turned herself into this... caustic, cantankerous shut-in of a woman, but even after all these years, Caroline still sees it. Those fiery blue eyes still burn hot with passion. Even as her witch's hat shades her eyes away from the sun's rays, they blaze all the same, just like that girl who had grinned, proud, and had promised her that she'd be the champion of Uluru Games all those years ago and did just that.
Her stare warms her more the coat splayed over her shoulders.
They stare each other down. For the first time, Willow backs down first, averting her gaze away, a soft mutter of a curse under her breath before she turns tail, back to the comfort of that damnable house.
No worries, Caroline wraps her coat tighter around herself, now that that burning stare is gone.
She'll get that woman back into the game. One day.