I toss my empty bottle into the bin and turn off the light before making my way upstairs. It’s past two in the morning and the adrenaline of yesterday’s game and Felix’s news is starting to wear off. I rub a tired hand down my face as I head down the hall towards my room, but a soft whimper from Willow’s bedroom has me pausing outside her door.
Guilt washes over me as I recall our conversationearlier. There’s no excuse for my ignorance about the way Breanna treated her and other girls when we were dating. While I used football as a distraction from all the changes going on at home, it was really shitty of me to ignore my stepsister. She actually seems like a pretty great person—which I would know if I had ever bothered to have a conversation with her in the entire time she’s lived with us.
I’m an arsehole.
Her bedroom remains quiet, and I continue down the hall to mine. As I’m about to push open my door, a noise catches my attention, and I turn to see Willow frozen in her doorway, wearing a maroon Beckford U t-shirt, her creamy thighs disappearing under the oversized material and teasing me with thoughts of what I might find underneath.
Whoa. Where the fuck did that come from?
Realising we’ve been standing here locked in a stare off, I clear my throat and take a step towards her. “Hey. Everything okay?”
Her head bobs in assent. “Are you just getting home?” There’s a slight quiver in her voice that almost seems like hurt, only that makes no sense—why would she care where I’ve been?
“Uh… yeah. I needed some time to wrap my head around everything.” I rub the back of my neck. “Sorry if I woke you.”
Willow shakes her head. “I couldn’t sleep.” Her cheeks flush with a rosy hue, and she tugs on the hem of her T-shirt as she seems to realise she’s half naked in front of me. “Were you out celebrating?”
I shrug. “Not really.” For some reason, even though we’ve barely spoken in the last four years, I want to talk to Willow. “Can I tell you something?”
She leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms across her chest. “I guess so.”
“I was searching for someone.”
“Who?”
My laugh is humourless. “That’s the thing. I don’t know.” I slide down the wall opposite Willow’s bedroom, legs bent and forearms resting on my knees. “It sounds crazy, but I don’t even know her name.”
“Her?”
“It doesn’t even matter. She didn’t want to be with me anyway.”
Willow’s face pales. “Luca?—”
I let out a deep sigh. “I realised something tonight.”
When I don’t continue, her curiosity gets the better of her. “What?”
“I’m scared of ending up alone.”
Her blue eyes meet mine. “Why would?—”
“Why would the popular football player be worried about ending up alone?” My lips tug up into a grimace. “I’m a walking cliché. Everyone I meet wants something from me. My father wants to live vicariously through me. Women want to sleep with the Beckford U star footballer so they have a story to tell their friends. My mates are probably only hanging around for the women.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“You’ve met Theo,” I say with a raised brow.
“He’s not that bad,” she counters, but her expression tells me she knows I’m right.
“Sometimes I think it would be so much easier if no one knew who I was.”
Willow’s face scrunches in confusion. “You’ve lost me. Isn’t moving to Muddlestown to play soccer going to do the opposite of that?”
I laugh, but this time it’s genuine. “It’s Middlesbrough,” I correct her. “And I guess you’re right… if things go well. But over there, I’ll be a little fish in a big pond. It will be ‘Luca who?’ not Luca Whitford, captain and star left-winger for Beckford U.” She studies me with a sceptical look. “What?”
“You’re not…” her voice trails off with a shake of her head, but I’m curious to know what she’s thinking.
“I’m not what?”
