Lia settled straight into the action, looking at home with the ball at her feet. She skipped past Wanderers players with ease, seeming to drown out the noise from the crowd—and any words her former teammates said to her. Their mouths moved whenever Lia got close, and Erin doubted they were shouting encouragement.
Through it all, Lia kept calm and composed, further cementing her status in Erin’s mind as one of the best. Watching her out there, knowing the state she’d gotten herself into less than half an hour ago, Erin gained a new admiration for Lia.
“Come on, ref!” As Lia was wrestled to the ground by her former captain just a few yards from the box, Maisie surged out of her seat. “That’s a yellow!”
“Keep calm.” Erin gently pulled Maisie down. “Don’t get in the habit of shouting at the referee, or you’ll be in trouble in your own games.”
“You argue with the ref every game!”
“A bad habit I’ve never been able to shake.” It was in her nature to point out clear mistakes. “You shouldn’t start it.”
Maisie grumbled as Lia dusted herself off, seemingly unfazed by the challenge. No yellow card was forthcoming, but the free kick Albion were awarded was in a promising position.
Erin leaned further forward in her seat as Cerys stood over the ball. In the box, Lia was marked by two Wanderers players, her former team clearly knowing how dangerous she was from this position.
It worked to Albion’s advantage. They were so focused on Lia that they failed to notice Shanice sneaking toward the back post. She headed the ball home, and Erin raised a fist in the air.
* * *
When the final whistle blew, Lia bent at the waist, resting her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Without the game to focus on, it was like all the energy had drained out of her: Her muscles ached, her chest was tight, and those pesky butterflies erupted again in her stomach.
A hand clapped her on the back, so hard she nearly toppled over, and Lia lifted her head.
Shanice beamed at her. “You were fab out there today. Best second-half performance I’ve seen in a long, long time.”
“Thanks.” It was all a blur. Lia had scored the winning goal, but all she remembered was the weight of Hannah’s gaze over the Albion players’ heads as they’d had hugged Lia in celebration.
“I’ve never seen a performance like that, either.” Emily—Lia’s former captain—appeared at Shanice’s elbow, a pained look on her face. “I wish you hadn’t left.”
“You know I had to.”
“I know.” Emily clasped Lia’s hand and squeezed. “Sorry I wrestled you to the ground.”
Lia managed a weak smile. “No hard feelings.”
Some of her other former teammates weren’t as kind, barely looking at her when they shook hands. A few expressed their wishes that Lia was still with them, but Lia couldn’t bring herself to wish for the same. She was happy at Albion. Happier than she thought she could ever be again.
Some of that happiness leached away as Hannah stepped in front of her. Her face was pink with exertion and sweat beaded at her brow, but she still didn’t have so much as a single hair out of place. Not surprising, she supposed, given that it took Hannah almost a half hour of painstaking effort to style it before each match—something Lia used to tease her endlessly about; her own matchday ponytail took her a mere thirty seconds.
Their gazes met, but it didn’t knock the air from Lia’s lungs like she’d been expecting. She didn’t want to double over from the pain of it. She only felt empty, like she was looking through a blurry lens at the future they could have had.
“You did well today.”
Why the hell had Hannah sought her out just to say that? “No thanks to you. Is that really all you have to say to me after all this time?”
Hannah winced. “That’s not what I wanted to say at all; I don’t know why I did. I actually wanted to ask if I could talk to you, just for a few minutes. Somewhere away from all the cameras.”
It was hard not to be aware of them, the broadcasters circling the pitch. The thought of them zooming in on them, trying to see what Lia’s old teammate was saying to her, made her skin crawl. Lia considered saying no but couldn’t shake her curiosity about what Hannah could possibly have to say.
“I’ll spare you five minutes in the tunnel after I’ve done my media duties.”
“Thank you.”
Brushing past Hannah without shaking her hand, Lia was soon snared by the BBC pundits. She hated interviews, detested having a camera shoved in her face and being asked for her thoughts on the match. At least Albion had won; the reporters were worse after a loss. But she still found it hard to concentrate, worrying about what Hannah had in mind.
The second Lia could escape, she made a beeline for the tunnel. At the end was the safety of the changing room and her teammates, but before she could reach it, she had to confront the woman who had broken her heart.
Hannah stepped out of the darkness, wringing her hands in front of her like she always did when she was nervous. The last time Lia had seen her do that was when she’d asked if Lia minded if she went away on a last-minute weekend trip with her sister. Now Lia wondered if she’d spent the weekend with Carol instead.
