The door creaked open, and Lia’s face loomed in the gap. Green eyes darted around the room, her brown hair falling in loose waves around her pale cheeks instead of in her usual matchday ponytail.
As she stepped inside the room, Lia buried her hands into the pockets of her navy-blue jacket. A thirteen was emblazoned across her chest, answering the question of what number shirt she’d be wearing. Unlucky for some—and certainly for Erin.
Ayla ushered Lia over to where she stood at the front of the room. “Everyone, please give a warm Albion welcome to our newest recruit, Lia Ashcroft!”
Applause rang out as the team took Lia in. She didn’t seem comfortable being the centre of attention, which went against the assured cockiness Erin associated her with whenever they’d met on the pitch. Had that all been an air—or was this the act? Pretending to be nervous so people would feel sorry for her and welcome her with open arms?
“Lia is an incredible talent,” Ayla said. “She has everything you could possibly want in a footballer—pace, strength, and a hardworking attitude—not to mention that she certainly knows how to find the back of the net.” Ayla’s smile turned wry as her gaze found Erin. “Only one of our own came close to outscoring her last season.”
Beneath the bandage, Erin’s knee throbbed, and she gritted her teeth.
Ayla wasn’t done yet. “I am so excited to see where this season takes us with so much firepower at our disposal. Lia, is there anything you want to say to your new teammates?”
With her cheeks flushed pink, Lia swallowed.
It had to be an act. Erin didn’t buy for a second this was the same woman she had met on the pitch.
“Um, just that I am so happy to be here. I can’t wait to get started and get to know you all.” Though she hadn’t mastered the same projection as Ayla, her words still carried to where Erin sat in the back row.
“Well, I’ll leave you to say hello. Lia is such a consummate professional that she’s joining us for training this afternoon—diving right in.” With an approving smile, Ayla stepped back.
Erin’s teammates swarmed around Lia, but Erin made a beeline for Ayla before the coach could leave the room. Or as much of a beeline as she could manage these days, anyway.
Ayla’s mouth tightened when Erin reached her, and she tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear. As always, her nails were immaculately painted. This week, they were blue. “Erin. How’s the knee?”
Knowing Ayla didn’t really want the answer, Erin ignored the question. As coach, she’d be kept up to date with every single one of Erin’s movements from the team doctors and physiotherapists. “Why is she here? Am I being replaced?”
“Of course not. There’s no replacing our best player.” Ayla should know flattery wouldn’t get her anywhere. “But it’ll be months before you’re back on the pitch. Longer until you’re at full-match fitness. Did you expect us to spend a whole season without an out-and-out striker?”
Well, no. It was, of course, better for the team as a whole to have not just an out-and-out striker, but a good one to keep them competitive. The more trophies Albion won, the better. But…
“I didn’t expect her.” Why couldn’t it have been anyone else? Why did it have to be the one player everyone kept touting as Erin’s successor? As the young striker coming for her crown and all her records? Now she’d be forced to watch it happen.
And would there still be a place for Erin when she was back? Lia couldn’t have come cheap, and Erin’s wages were on the high side, too. She had one of the most lucrative contracts in the Women’s Super League, thanks to her fantastic goalscoring records. Could Albion justify keeping them both? Or would Erin be sold to make way for Lia to become their new star?
“Neither did we.” Ayla gave a disbelieving shake of her head. “She’d not long signed a contract extension with Wanderers. She shouldn’t have been available. But when we heard she was, I wasn’t about to let that chance go.”
Regrettably, Erin understood. Were she in Ayla’s position, she would have done the same thing, but that didn’t lessen the sting.
Ayla met Erin’s gaze. “And I have faith that the two of you will be able to play together once you’re back to full fitness. You’re both formidable alone—how incredible can you be as a striking partnership?”
Erin fought the urge to shake her head, to tell Ayla she didn’t want to work as a pair. “So there’s still a place for me here? Even with her?” She hated how vulnerable it made her sound—and hated the sympathy that washed over Ayla’s face more.
“Of course there is, Erin. And I, for one, am looking forward to what the two of you can achieve together over the next three years.”
* * *
“I still can’t believe you’re here.” Cerys was the first player to embrace Lia, skipping to the front of the queue and wrapping Lia in her arms.
Some of Lia’s nerves eased as she inhaled Cerys’ familiar perfume, her nose tickled by a face full of unruly red curls. Her international teammate, they’d been playing together for Wales since the age of fifteen, and kept their close bond despite—until now, at least—playing for rival teams.
Cerys cupped her cheeks. “Like, are you really standing in Albion’s briefing room right now?”
“Better believe it.” The joy on Cerys’ face meant Lia’s smile was her first genuine one in days.
“Oh, we are going to have so much fun together.”
“Don’t hog the newbie.”
