The words were harsh, reverberating through Erin’s skull as Alex left her alone, but she’d needed to hear them. Alex was right: If nothing was ever going to come out of this thing with Lia, she needed to forget about it.
Before another season slipped through her fingers without four trophies to hold at the end of it.
If only it could be that easy.
* * *
Lia stared out of the airplane window, watching the world flash by thirty thousand feet below.
To say the mood on the private team plane was black would be an understatement. Three hours ago, Albion had been knocked out of the Champions League competition after a miserable 3-0 thrashing by Wolfsburg.
It was a shitty feeling.
Albion had gone into the second leg of the two-game semi-final with a 2-0 lead, confident about seeing out the tie, but a string of defensive mistakes had cost them—not to mention their lack of finesse in front of goal.
Lia hadn’t played well, and she sat alone toward the middle of the plane, beating herself up over the chances she missed.
And she wasn’t the only one.
Behind her, Erin would be doing the same. Arguably, she’d missed the clearest chance of the night in the dying seconds—a near-open shot at goal that would have dragged Albion through to extra time and the chance to save themselves.
Instead, the shot had skittered wide of the post, and Erin’s shout of frustration had rung loud in Lia’s ears.
Around Lia, her teammates on the plane were silent, most of them sitting alone and contemplating the match. The last thing any of them wanted was to be stuck together in a tin can for two hours. Lia herself couldn’t wait to get home and slip into bed.
She couldn’t sit still for another second. She rose to her feet and paced toward the front of the plane. When she turned, she glanced toward where Erin sat, on the back row, away from anyone else, her jaw clenched as she stared out the plane window.
They hadn’t spoken—beyond polite small talk whenever anyone else was around to overhear them—since the day of the League Cup final. Even on the pitch, they didn’t tend to speak. Didn’t need to most of the time; instinct ensured they knew where the other player would be. They could communicate with passes and crosses better than they’d ever be able to with words.
But it was still so hard seeing her all the time—aching to reach out for her, to bridge the gap that widened between them with each passing day. Lia didn’t understand where it had all gone so wrong, wished she could rewind the clock and brush Adrianna off before things had taken a turn for the worse.
Seeing the pain on Erin’s face, Lia wanted nothing more than to go to her. To try and comfort her—to draw some comfort from her in return. To go home with Erin when they got back to Manchester and forget this evening’s misery by falling into one another, never coming up for air.
Maybe that could still happen, if she reached out. Lia had had the last word, after all. She’d thought that was for the best, that she needed more than just sex from Erin to be happy. But the last two weeks without her had been torturous.
Maybe a night of comfort sex could be enough. It couldn’t be worse than this, could it?
Lia drifted to the back of the plane, closer to Erin and her stormy expression. She was only four rows away when a hand clasped her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
Glancing down, Lia half expected to see Cerys, asking her what the hell she was thinking. Instead, she looked into Alex’s grey eyes, their lips pursed as they gazed at Lia. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Do what?” Lia asked, as if her intentions—given the fact that Erin was the only person beyond Alex’s seat—weren’t obvious.
“She’s no good after a loss.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lia extricated herself from Alex’s grip. “I’m stretching my legs.”
“Bullshit. It’s not a good idea, Lia. Not after…everything.”
“And by everything you mean?” Somehow, Lia had a feeling Alex wasn’t referring to the match. Had Erin told Alex about them? Surely not. They were close, but was Erin that close to anybody?
Alex held Lia’s stare, unblinking. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”
Well, that answered that question, didn’t it? Lia swallowed. “Are you going to stop me?”
“Your funeral. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
With those words of caution ringing in her ears, Lia forged onward, toward the last row of the plane. Erin didn’t glance away from the window, even when Lia sat in the seat beside her, their shoulders brushing as she made herself comfortable.
