“You shouldn’t be alone when you feel like this.” Before Erin could reply, Lia slipped past her and flicked on the light.
Having grown used to the darkness, Erin winced as the brightness hit her eyes.
Lia’s lips pursed as she took in Erin’s face, and Erin could guess what she saw: bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes; pink cheeks; and tangled hair. Her eyes traced from Erin’s face to her toes, where Erin rested most of her weight on her left leg. She couldn’t believe that leg was now her good one.
“What’s the diagnosis?” Lia asked.
“Partial hamstring tear. At least three weeks of setback to my recovery.”
“Three weeks isn’t too bad.” Lia seemed to choose her words carefully. “Not compared to what you’ve already done.”
A bitter laugh left Erin’s lips. “A setback is a setback. My body’s failing me.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?”
Erin shook her head. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Explain it to me.” Without waiting for an invitation, Lia dropped onto the couch Erin had vacated and patted the spot next to her.
Reluctantly, Erin joined her. “You’re young. You bounce back quickly. But this… I’m not back to full fitness, and I’ve already got another injury. The risk of an ACL recurrence is twenty percent. And now my hamstring is weakened because of the surgery to repair the tear. What’s next? What if I never get back on the pitch? It’s taken me months to get out there again, and on my third day of team training, I’m back in the treatment room? Is this my life now?”
Every single one of the worries that had plagued Erin’s mind all afternoon—and, if she was honest with herself, since being stretchered off at the FA Cup final—poured out of her. “I’m terrified that I’ve played my last game. I’d managed to choke down some of that fear, but today proved I am right to be afraid.”
For a long moment, the only sound was Erin’s breaths, heaving out of her like she’d run a marathon. When she’d first opened her mouth, she’d expected her admission to feel like a moment of weakness, but saying the words aloud lifted a weight that had sat heavily on her shoulders.
Lia settled a hand on Erin’s leg and squeezed. Her fingers were warm through Erin’s worn sweatpants. “Look at me.”
Erin realised she’d been staring at the floor. She turned so she was looking into Lia’s eyes. Lia was close, leaning into Erin’s space, her gaze intense. Had her eyes always been such a deep blue?
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Lia’s words were soft. “I won’t pretend I do because you’re right—I am young, and I’ve been lucky enough not to suffer from anything like this before.”
“I hope you never do. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
“Good.” Pink lips curved into a smile. “Because I think at one point, that was me.”
Erin managed the ghost of a smile. “Not anymore.”
“No.” Lia squeezed her thigh once again. “I could open my mouth and tell you a lot of things that you’ve heard before. That you’ll bounce back, that this is just a bump in the road, that you’re too strong and too stubborn to let injuries curtail your career. And for the record, I do believe all of those things—but I don’t think that’s what you need right now.”
Erin shook her head.
“So tell me—what do you need?”
Lifting a hand to brush her hair away from her eyes, Erin shrugged. “I don’t know. To stop thinking. A distraction.” Anything to stop the destructive thoughts whirling through her mind.
“Okay.” Lia bit her plump bottom lip.
Were they as soft as they looked?
Woah—where did that come from? Erin should not be looking at Lia’s mouth—let alone entertaining thoughts about how soft her lips were.
“I don’t think there’s a rage room nearby, and I’m guessing you’re supposed to be resting your leg. I’m also guessing that you don’t want to run into any of our teammates, so that means we have to stay in here.”
Lia flexed her fingers once more on Erin’s thigh. Apparently, a thoughtless motion—Lia didn’t seem to notice she was doing it—but it sent a hot spike through Erin’s stomach. She found her breath catching in the back of her throat.
“We’re limited in here.” Craning backwards, Lia glanced around the room.
All it did was draw Erin’s attention to the long line of Lia’s neck. She swallowed. Why was she suddenly feeling so warm? A discarded ice pack, fresh from being held to her thigh, sat on the coffee table in front of her, and Erin debated placing it on her burning forehead.
