“Then don’t settle for anything less, mate. Talk to her.”
“She’s in bloody America, Craig.”
Craig raised an eyebrow. “Lucky for you we’re coming up on an international break.”
My stomach flipped. “Yeah, we are.”
Craig clasped my shoulder. “Go see her. Make things right. Then get back here and make things right with the rest of your life. Including the team.”
“They hate me. After what Frenchie said—”
“They’ll get over it. You’re our captain. We need you. Just no more red cards.”
“Thanks, Craig. And I’m sorry about Marla.”
Craig’s mouth set into a hard line. “Yeah, me too.”
Morgan
“Here you go, Mom.” I handed her a ham sandwich. She was sitting on the couch, watching her favorite soap opera.
I was home for lunch from the local cable station where I was able to get a job doing tech support. It wasn’t the most stimulating job in the world, but it paid the bills.
We had fallen into some sort of normalcy.
And I hated every minute of it.
Mom’s recovery was slow. I still had to come back to the house several times during the day to check on her. I had spoken with our neighbor, Mrs. Barton, and she agreed to come by throughout the day to make sure Mom was okay. So far things had worked where I hadn’t needed to hire anyone to care for her. Which was good because I still couldn’t afford it.
And every night as I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come, I thought of Lucas. I would put on that stupid, beautiful necklace he bought me in London. How appropriate that it was a heart. He had ripped mine from my body and stomped on it.
Then I’d cry until I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open. I’d wake up in the morning with a heavy heart and do it all over again.
I went to the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea. I had looked everywhere for an electric kettle and finally found a cheap one at the hardware store. Americans weren’t renowned for their tea making. Shelly, my friend from high school, had suggested I nuke the water in the microwave when I had complained about it.
“Microwave it?” I had gasped in horror as if she had said there was no such thing as global warning.
“What’s wrong with that?” she had asked.
“It’s just wrong.”
“You’ve changed,” Shelly had commented.
She was right. I had changed. And the life I had been so comfortable with before moving to England wasn’t enough for me anymore.
Because Lucas wasn’t here.
Stupid jerk.
I hated that I missed him.
I hated that I wanted to be with him, even after how crappy he had been.
And I hated that I continued to search for his name on the internet every day. And there was plenty to see.
Lucas Bradley drunk and falling over as he left a club.
Lucas Bradley with women hanging all over him.
