After a tense thirty minutes of extra time, Albion had come away with a 2-1 win in the League Cup final, securing their first silverware of the season. Even better, it had come at the expense of their biggest rival—Wanderers.
The game had taken place at a neutral stadium—Molineux, in Wolverhampton—meaning they had a two-hour coach to catch back to Manchester before the day was done. But Ayla knew the value of good team morale and had allowed them some time to celebrate in the stadium before trying to corral them back up north.
The changing room floor was sticky with sprayed champagne—a waste, if you asked Erin—and music blared from Adrianna’s Bluetooth speaker. As “Freed From Desire” played—the unofficial anthem of the women’s game in the UK—some of Erin’s teammates began to dance.
Lia was one of them, hauled to her feet by Cerys despite the ice pack wrapped around her knee. She’d been substituted—by Erin—in the eighty-first minute after scoring the first goal and hadn’t been happy to be taken off.
Judging from the shimmy of her hips as the chorus hit, her injury couldn’t be too bad.
Alex threw themself onto the bench next to Erin, pointing a half-empty bottle of champagne toward Erin’s mouth like it was a microphone. “How does it feel scoring yet another match winner in a cup final?”
Laughing, Erin knocked the bottle away. “Damn fucking good.”
Her first goal since tearing her ACL couldn’t have come at a better time. Both figuratively—what better way to announce herself as back to her best than in a final against the same team she’d gotten injured playing against—and literally, occurring three minutes before they would have been forced into a penalty shoot-out.
Erin hated penalties. The lack of control, the amount of trust she had to put in other players, her inability to be the difference maker. The pressure of everyone expecting you to score.
Give her a last-gasp winner any day of the week.
“It’s good to have you back. And to add another trophy to the cabinet.”
“But let’s not get carried away. We have a league game in four days. Champions League semi-final next week.” Erin loved the fact that so many trophies were available to her—four over the course of the season with the league, the two cup competitions, and the Champions League—but the scheduling could be a nightmare. Especially when she was only just getting back from injury. She didn’t want to push herself too far by playing in too many games, but her desperation for success made her ache to be a part of every victory that brought Albion closer to silverware.
“You sound like Ayla.” Alex poked Erin in the cheek. “Lighten up. We can worry about those games when they happen.”
Erin hummed, mind already looking toward the future. The last time an English team had completed the quadruple had been in the 2006-07 season, long before Erin had made her professional debut. It had been a dream for her since, and one she had no intention of giving up on before she retired.
“Alex! Come dance with us.” As Shanice danced past, she pulled Alex along with her. Wisely, she didn’t try and drag Erin along, too.
She wasn’t alone for long. Escaping from the madness, Lia dropped onto Erin’s other side. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Erin took in Lia’s wide, unfocused pupils and smiled. “Is someone drunk?”
“No. I’ve only had…” Lia tilted her head, eyebrows creasing into a frown. “Two glasses. Maybe three?”
“Okay, let me rephrase—is someone a lightweight?”
Lia pouted, full bottom lip protruding.
Erin had to use all of her willpower not to take it between her teeth. “How’s your knee?”
“It’s fine.” The ice pack was askew, half hanging out of the wrapping meant to keep it in place. “Just some swelling. They think it’s bursitis.”
Nothing too major, to Erin’s relief. She’d had that a few times herself—those pesky fluid-filled sacs around her knee growing inflamed. “So some anti-inflammatories and a few days’ rest and you’ll be right as rain. Not sure the dancing is doctor-prescribed, though.”
As she readjusted her ice pack, Lia’s expression turned sheepish. “I kept most of my weight off it. Do you think Ayla saw?”
“I think Ayla is hiding on the coach so she doesn’t have to see any of our shenanigans.”
“Our?” Lia raised an eyebrow. “I bet you won’t be getting into any shenanigans.”
“I don’t tend to, no.”
“Boring.”
“You think I’m boring?” Erin lowered her voice, knowing the music would drown out her words to any nearby prying ears. “That’s not what you were saying the other night when I had you tied to my headboard.”
Risky, to say such things out in the open. But Erin couldn’t help herself, finding it hard to think about anything else with Lia so close.
