Only Lia’s years of media training prevented her smile from faltering. Just once, once, Lia would like to be able to talk about her own career without Brett being brought into it. Some people thought it was cool that two siblings played for some of the best teams in the world. Lia wasn’t one of them. “While I can’t deny that my stepbrother has made a name for himself, I think my own accolades speak for themselves. I don’t want to follow in anyone’s footsteps. I want to rewrite all the record books.”
After a few more generic questions, Milly clapped her hands. “Okay, I think we’re all done! I’ll take you on a tour of the training facility next, and then I’ll leave you in the coach’s capable hands. Do you want to change into your training kit first?”
“Sure.” As she pulled on her navy-blue clothes, Lia allowed herself to bask in a rare moment of solitude. The tracksuit pants and the matching T-shirt were soft and breathable, and the hooded jacket that she zipped to her chin was comfortable. Wearing a football kit had always felt like armour, and Lia supposed there was no reason why this one couldn’t feel the same, even if it was a colour she wasn’t used to.
Stepping out into the corridor, Lia took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing nerves. But it was no use. She followed Milly around Park Lane, barely concentrating on a word she said.
“Hey, are you okay?” Milly set a gentle hand on Lia’s elbow, a frown on her face.
“I’m fine.” The lie came easily to Lia’s lips. “It’s just a little overwhelming.”
Milly’s smile was sympathetic. “I understand. This is your first time being part of a big transfer, right?”
“I’ve been at Wanderers since I was sixteen. Didn’t have any of this fanfare then.”
“Well, that’s what you get for being one of the best in the world.” Milly squeezed her arm. “I know it’s a lot, but I promise we’ll get you through it. Everyone in the team here is great—they’ll have you settled in in no time. And anytime you need someone to talk to, come to me. Whenever you need it. It’s my job to be here for you, okay?”
Gratitude flooded through Lia. It was nice to know there was at least one friendly face at Albion. “Thanks, Milly. I appreciate that, even if it hasn’t seemed like it today.”
“Are you kidding? I used to work for a men’s Premier League team—you’re a dream compared to some of those egos. And it’s just a few more hours today, and then you’ll have the evening to decompress. By the time you’re done with training, all your belongings will have been moved into your new apartment.”
One of the best things about a team having a player liaison manager was not having to worry about anything. Milly had found her a new place in a sleek apartment building in central Manchester a few minutes away from Park Lane.
“Come on, I’ll show you the most important room in this place next.” Milly led her down a set of stairs and along a long hallway until they reached a set of double doors.
Beyond them was a canteen full of a dozen tables, the seats blue and the walls painted the same colour to match Albion’s home kit. Large glass counters housed the offerings from the kitchen staff, though most of them were empty. A handful of people bustled around the room, tidying after the breakfast rush. They waved at her as she and Milly stepped inside.
TV screens lined the walls, and Lia’s face stared back at her from each one. To say that her transfer had caused a splash was an understatement.
“It’s not usually this quiet,” Milly said. “The team are in a meeting now, being told about your arrival.”
A shiver of apprehension trickled down Lia’s spine. She needed to make a good impression if she wanted to do well at Albion. And she was determined to do that. Her decision to leave Wanderers may have been hasty, but she was going to prove that she’d chosen the right path. “I’m guessing I’m supposed to make an entrance?”
“If you’re up for it. If not, I can lie and say our photo shoot overran.”
While Lia appreciated the offer, she’d need to get it over with sooner rather than later. “Nah, I’m good. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
* * *
Erin stared blankly at Ayla’s face, trying to take in what she was saying.
“I think most of you have heard the news by now.” Albion’s coach stood at the front of the briefing room with her muscled arms folded across her chest, gaze flitting around the faces of the thirty players sitting in the comfy chairs before her.
Ayla had been an incredible player in her prime, a pioneer of the women’s game, paving the way for those who came after her to be full-time professionals. Since her playing career had ended, she’d scaled her way to the top levels of management and was the first Black coach to win all four domestic trophies. All of them in her five years at Albion. Erin respected her a lot, but with how chaotic her thoughts had been ever since hearing the news about Lia, she found it hard to concentrate on Ayla’s words.
“It wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
No, a breaking news announcement wasn’t how Erin wished she’d found out, either. Worse—it hadn’t been a joke. Lia Ashcroft was somewhere in the building, about to waltz into the first team squad, about to take Erin’s position on the pitch, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
“The timing is good for us—Lia is able to join our pre-season tour in the US next week. That’ll be a good chance for you all to get to know her and hopefully start to gel together on the pitch before the season starts in September.”
Back when Erin had first started out, she’d been lucky to play any kind of pre-season at all. Even a few years ago, it had meant two or three matches against their nearest opposition. Now, as the women’s game continued on its upward trajectory, they were offered the kind of lucrative tours that had been historically reserved for the men’s teams. Last year, they’d travelled to Australia. This year, New York City was their destination.
Erin’s injury hadn’t gotten her out of going. It wasn’t like she was going to get on the training pitch, but Ayla had been insistent that the whole squad make the journey—because they were set to bond off the pitch as well as on it.
Yuck.
A light knock sounded on the door, and Ayla’s face broke into a smile. “That should be her now.”
