“She’s not replacing you. You’re still here, aren’t you?”
For now. But if Erin couldn’t recover? Couldn’t get back to her best quickly enough to keep Ayla or the directors or the owners happy? Erin would be shipped out the door. She wasn’t naïve. Football was a business. She was an investment. And right now, she was one that wasn’t making any money.
Erin changed the subject. “Do we know why she left Wanderers? Why she came here?” She couldn’t make sense of it. Sure, she loved Albion, and she knew what they were capable of. But Albion had been knocked off their perch by Wanderers last season. Wanderers were on the cusp of a run of dominance like Albion had been lucky enough to be on the last few years.
Why would Lia give that up? Why take a step backwards? Lia could have gone to any club in the world, domestically or abroad. Walk into any team. So why had she stayed in Manchester?
“No idea. I don’t think anyone knows.”
“Someone must have asked her.”
“If they have, I haven’t been privy to the answer.”
Annoying. Erin wasn’t one for gossip, but Alex usually kept her up to date with the biggest dramas and scandals. Not that there were many. Ayla and Shanice ran a tight ship.
“I know.” Alex’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Maybe you can ask her when we’re on top of the Empire State Building.”
Erin allowed herself a rare laugh. “Not likely.”
No, she’d continue to do her best to stay away from Lia at all costs—no matter which side of the Atlantic they were on.
* * *
Lia hauled her suitcase out of the lobby of her apartment building, wondering if she had crammed too much inside.
Oh well. Too late to do anything about it now. She stepped outside with a few minutes to spare before the car was due to pick her up.
A few metres away, someone else stood beside a suitcase, dressed in the same Albion hoodie and sweatpants Lia had pulled on that morning. Huh. She hadn’t realised any of her fellow teammates also lived in the same apartment building. But at least it would mean she wouldn’t have to make awkward small talk with the taxi driver.
Lia paused when she inched closer, recognising the angled cheek bones and the short blonde hair. Did she live in the same building as Erin Finch? Was she about to get into a car with the one teammate who had gone out of their way to not welcome Lia with open arms?
To not welcome her at all?
Things were about to get awkward. And fast.
As if able to sense Lia’s unease, Erin turned her head. Her eyes widened when they met Lia’s, and her nostrils flared. Erin’s eyes darted from Lia, toward the lobby doors she’d exited, and back again.
“You live here?” Erin’s voice was low, her Scouse accent pronounced despite the number of years she’d spent in Manchester.
Lia wasn’t sure what she expected Erin’s first words to her to be, but it hadn’t been that. Especially after a week of silence. “Um, yeah. You might know that, if you hadn’t been avoiding me.” She tried not to sound defensive, curling her fingers tight around the handle of her suitcase.
“I am not avoiding you.”
The lie wasn’t remotely convincing. “Oh, please. It’s been a week, and you haven’t said so much as a hello to me.”
Erin inspected her manicured nails, painted a vivid shade of red. “You haven’t said hello to me, either.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” As a rule, it took a lot to rile Lia up. A short fuse didn’t last long on a football pitch—unless you wanted to earn a long list of bookings and sending offs. But being accused of not making an effort by someone who was actively keeping out of her way? Lia saw red. “I have tried. You’re the one who has no interest.”
Eyes flashing, Erin dropped her hand back to her side. “Look, I’m sorry, okay, but do you really think I want to be the best of friends with the woman who’s been brought in to take my place in the starting eleven?”
Lia supposed, if their positions were reversed, she might feel some level of resentment. It couldn’t be easy for Erin—first, to adapt to a potentially career-ending injury, then to watch someone come into the team who had outscored her last season. Footballing egos were fragile. Lia had seen enough evidence of that over the years.
“I don’t want to be best friends.” Even in just a week, Lia had noticed that Erin didn’t seem to have many. She kept to herself, for the most part, though she sat with Alex at mealtimes. “I just don’t want you to be outright hostile. And it won’t be that long until we’re playing together, right? You must be what, two months post-op? Nearly a quarter of the way through your recovery? I bet that time will fly by.”
As Erin’s jaw clenched, Lia wished that she’d kept her mouth shut.
“?Fly by'? You think the past two months have been easy?” Erin hissed. “You think it’s fun to not be able to do the one thing you love more than anything else in the world? To watch the rest of the team preparing for the season ahead and not know if you’ll set foot on a pitch before the end of it?”
