Lia glanced over Cerys’s head to see the captain of Salford Albion grinning at her. A striking Black woman standing at six feet, Shanice Rookwood was easily the tallest person in the room and instantly recognisable. Her hair was cropped short, brown eyes sparkling as she reached Lia’s side. As a central defender, Lia had tussled with her a dozen times over the past few seasons—the woman was fast, and she was strong.
“Welcome to the team, Lia.” Shanice wrapped a warm arm around Lia’s shoulders. “I have to say that it’ll be nice to be on the same side. You were a terror to play against. No offence.”
A laugh bubbled in Lia’s chest, more of her nerves falling away. “None taken, because I feel the same. I hated playing against you—you’re too damn good.”
“I like you already.” Shanice nudged Lia forward to meet the rest of the waiting line of players.
Of course, she already knew all their names. She’d played against most of them for years, after all. But being embraced as one of their own was different to shaking their hands before a match.
She couldn’t help but notice that one player hung back from the rest.
Erin Finch stood with her back against the wall a few feet away. Her blonde hair was cut short, barely brushing the nape of her neck, and hazel eyes regarded Lia with open hostility, the sharpness of her gaze rivalled by the jut of her jaw.
All her weight was on her right leg, her navy shorts showing a tight bandage around her left knee. Lia had been close to her in the cup final. She had seen the anguish on Erin’s face as she’d fallen, palm slapping the grass as she’d called for help.
Lia never liked to see someone go down like that. Especially when they were as good as Erin. A victory felt hollow when the opposite team was without their best player, their talisman.
And that was what Erin Finch was. Albion rarely lost a game when Erin was at her best. But, sadly, it would be months before she could be at her best again. That was to Lia’s gain, but that didn’t mean she wanted Erin to be injured.
Not to mention that coming in as Erin’s replacement meant she had big shoes to fill.
Because Erin Finch was one of the best players the game had ever seen. For years, Lia had admired her, wanting to emulate her favourite player’s form, dreaming that one day she might be as good as her.
Last season, Lia had met that goal by winning her first two trophies, and now many people saw her as the next big thing. The player to knock Erin Finch off her perch as the best player in the world.
Judging from the icy glare Erin was sending her way, she thought Lia was there to do that, too.
Lia swallowed. She’d already known that Erin wasn’t her biggest fan—that she was competition—but she’d hoped that maybe by being on the same team, that might change things.
Evidently not.
But that didn’t have to be a big deal. She didn’t have to get along with every single one of her teammates. And maybe with time, she could win Erin over. Show her she wasn’t a threat, and that together, they could be even better.
Maybe she should start right now. Resolved, Lia took a step toward Erin—only for Erin to melt into the crowd and disappear from view.
Swallowing her disappointment, Lia allowed herself to be drawn into conversation with Cerys as they made their way to the gym.
Well, she’d signed a three-year contract. Lia would have plenty of time to get Erin Finch on her side in the next few months.
Chapter 3
Lia tossed her keys into the bowl on the table beside the front door of her apartment, humming along to the song playing through her AirPods. When Milly and her player liaison team had asked her about her preference for living arrangements, Lia had asked for her own place, but she’d forgotten how quiet an empty apartment could feel.
The house she’d shared with Hannah had been so loud in comparison: the baby wailing from their next-door neighbours’, the couple on the other side arguing, Hannah clattering around in the kitchen or blaring podcasts while Charlie scampered around at her feet, claws tip-tapping across the wooden floors.
Now, on the seventh floor of an apartment complex in the heart of Manchester city centre, the walls thick and the glass on the windows and balcony doors reinforced to keep any noise from the street filtering in, the silence was oppressive.
Three days in, Lia’s AirPods were all but surgically attached, chasing away the loneliness. It didn’t help that the space felt too empty, either. Her meagre possessions had fit into a total of three cardboard boxes and two suitcases—she’d left the rest at Hannah’s, wanting few reminders of their time together.
To be fair to her, Milly had done a great job with furnishing the place. The open-plan kitchen-slash-dining room-slash-living room was dominated by a large, round mahogany table and a pair of comfortable brown leather couches. It would be a good place to entertain guests—if Lia was inclined to invite anyone around. Maybe Cerys, once she felt more settled.
She hoped that day would come soon.
On her way to her favourite part of her new place, Lia passed the wall of photographs she’d hung on her first night. In the centre, her grandmother beamed, one arm around Lia’s shoulders. It was a proud moment for them both—Lia’s professional debut—and she could still picture the tears in her grandmother’s eyes at the end of the game as she’d hugged Lia close.
Guilt flooded Lia’s stomach. In all the rigmarole of her move, she’d been lax that week with her visits to the care home. Unacceptable. Pushing open her balcony doors, Lia vowed to do better. She’d go tomorrow, right after training. And the day after, too, to make up for the fact that then she’d be away for two weeks.
She shouldn’t have bothered emptying the suitcases, considering in two days’ time she’d be hopping on a plane to New York with her new teammates.
