“You’ll need to prove it, Lucas.” He lifted my hand to his lips, kissing the back of my knuckles. One at a time.
“I will. I’ll spend every day proving to you that I love you. And we’ll figure the rest out. We have to. Because not having you in my life doesn’t work for me.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?”
He cupped my cheek. “Really. So what do you say? Will you give me a chance tonotbe a knob head?”
The stubborn part of me wanted to make him suffer the way I had suffered. To hurt the way I had hurt.
But my heart demanded something else.
It demanded more.
“But I live in America, you live in the UK. That’s one hell of a long distance relationship,” I pointed out.
“Just think of all the phone sex we can have. And there’s Skype too.” He kissed me. Slowly. Deeply.
“You’re such a perv,” I muttered.
“But I’m your perv,” he added.
“Oh really?”
“Always.”
Lucas
Six Months Later
Iknew she was up in the stands.
I could feel her eyes on me, even from the pitch.
And that energized me in a way nothing else could.
The late spring sun beat down on my shoulders. I felt good. Better than I had in a long time.
It was almost the end of the season. Only five more games.
Chester was mid-table. We had never quite bounced back after the nosedive we took before the holidays. But we won some matches. And lost some too.
I had scored a total of twelve goals so far this season. I was the third highest scorer in the league.
And my team learned to trust me again. That was the most important thing.
Nolan Dubois could still go fuck himself though.
“Lucas! Lucas! Lucas!”
My name was a chant.
The crowd loved me once more.
But their adoration isn’t what mattered. There was only one woman whose affection I craved.
“I’ve heard talk that you may be called up to play for England,” Adam said, passing me the ball during warm ups.
