Before heading into the tunnel, Erin dropped into one of the seats on the bench, taking a moment to look around the emptying stadium. As a child, she’d never dreamed she would be able to play on a stage as big as Anfield. Her dad had drawn her into the men’s game, the pair of them watching every week, curled on the sofa. It was his love of football that had sparked Erin’s interest, and she still remembered her first Anfield match—a cup game when she’d been ten years old, shivers running down her spine as the crowd sang “You’ll Never Walk Alone.”
Twenty-one years later, she’d played her first game on that same pitch, in front of a crowd of fifteen thousand. Nowhere near the capacity of the stadium, but even a few years ago that kind of turnout for a women’s game would have been unbelievable. Being able to play at a so-called ‘men’s’ stadium would have been unbelievable, too, but thanks to the growing interest in the women’s game, it had become a possibility—one Erin would usually revel in, but today, her mood was sour.
She hated having a bad game. On the coach home, she’d replay all of those missed chances, ruing the fact that she hadn’t done better.
“You’re missing Ayla’s team talk.” Alex sat in the seat beside her, their hoodie drawn to their chin to ward off the cool air. April hadn’t brought with it any warmer weather.
“I don’t need to hear it—I can guess what she’s saying: ‘That wasn’t a good game, but we need to pick ourselves back up. We can’t afford to dwell on it with another important game next week.’”
“That was uncanny. Have you considered going into impressions once you retire?” When Erin didn’t react, Alex sighed. “You can’t crack a smile?”
“What do I have to smile about?” Erin dug the heel of her boot into the ground. “I played like shit today.”
“You did.” Alex had never been one to pull any punches. “But so did everyone else. Not a single one of us played well today.”
“Even more reason for me to step up and sink one of my chances.”
“Hm. Are you going to talk about why you didn’t?”
“Because I had an off day?”
“And why is that?” Alex let the question sit a few moments. “Is it, perhaps, because you’re too into your own head over whatever the hell is going on between you and Lia Ashcroft?”
Erin stared at the pristine white painted lines on the pitch. “There is nothing going on between me and Lia Ashcroft.”
“Anymore?”
Tilting her head to rest it against the back of her seat, Erin blew out a sigh. She could deny it, but Alex wouldn’t believe her. And it was clear from the poisonous looks Cerys kept shooting Erin’s way when she thought Erin wasn’t looking that Lia had spilled the whole sorry tale to her best friend. Not that Erin could blame her. She wasn’t mad: Lia wouldn’t have said anything if she didn’t trust Cerys not to keep her mouth shut—and she was glad Lia had someone to talk to about it all.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Alex’s tone was gentle, like they were speaking to a spooked animal. “But we can. If you want.”
“How long have you known?”
“Hard to say. I first suspected something in December—but from her side, not yours. I didn’t think you’d ever go there. And I’ve thought it a couple of times since. You interacted with her differently. You softened to her, and I’d never seen you do that with anyone. Then I thought maybe it was because you enjoyed playing alongside her—I know you relish being around talent. It wasn’t until last weekend, when I saw the look on your face when Adrianna’s hands were on her, that I knew for sure.”
Great. If Alex had noticed, had anyone else? When had Erin lost the ability to regulate her emotions, her expressions, her feelings, when she was around others? When had Lia stripped away her ability to do that?
“And now you’re back to making awkward small talk and avoiding being alone together,” Alex finished, looking far too pleased with themself. “And neither of you were yourselves on the pitch today. Sooo, what happened?”
“I happened. It was supposed to be just sex. No attachment, no feelings, no drama. Last week, I realised that maybe it was turning into more than I’d bargained for.” Admitting the words aloud didn’t feel like the weakness she’d feared. Getting it off her chest felt better than expected. “And I do think anything more would be too complicated. I’m not cut out for that, and I don’t think she is, either, after what happened with her ex. So we called it off.”
“And how’s that worked out for you?”
Erin glowered. “Not well, obviously.”
“So call it back on,” Alex said like it was the simplest thing in the world. “If you’re so worried about it affecting your performance—well, not talking to her isn’t doing you any favours. What would be so bad about dating her?”
“If we’re like this now, when all we did was sleep together a few times, what would it be like if we broke up after months of being in a relationship?” Erin shook her head. “I swore I’d never risk it again. And so did she.”
“Sometimes risks are worth taking, Erin. Would you rather be miserable?”
“I’d rather be safe.”
Frustration stared back at her from behind Alex’s eyes. “Well, you’re an idiot.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Alex climbed to their feet. “If you can’t get your head out of your arse about this and admit that you want her, then get over her. Fast. Because we’ve got a busy few weeks coming our way, and we need everyone at their best, not pining over the chances they’re not brave enough to take.”
