I baulk at him, mouth agape. He chuckles deeply, jutting an arm out and snapping my jaw shut with the flick of two fingersunder my chin. “Is that a yes, or did I offend you by pointing out the obvious?”
“Both,” I blurt out, a grin tugging despite myself, humour bubbling past exhaustion. “You dropped me off at homeone time, but you’re right, and I am absolutely saying yes.”
“Once was enough,” he grumbles under his breath. “Someone pounded on my window before I got out of there, and I’m not sure if they were trying to offer me drugs, a blowy, or steal my car, but there’s zero reason you should be living in that part of town.”
My cheeks heat, the urge to scratch at my skin overwhelming me. He never needs to know it’s an improvement from where I grew up.
The studio flat I’ve been renting since Coach Auclair first offered me a spot on the team at the start of the season is an absolute dump, but it was all I could afford before my sign-on bonus landed in my account. Besides, maintaining one home was expensive enough as it was; I couldn’t very well splurge on something nicer until I was sure I could truly afford double the expenses.
“Thanks for thinking of me,” I tell him, hoping to steer the conversation into safer territory. “What’s the best way to contact—” I wrinkle my brow. “Sorry, what was their name?”
“Adhira, and don’t worry about it. I’ll send you her number tonight.”
“A woman?” I ask, disappointment blooming behind my sternum that this might not work after all. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”
“She’s not worried about it. Says she just wants someone quiet who’ll stay out of her space.”
“And you’re certain she’s okay living with a bloke?” I clarify for good measure, running a shaky hand through my sweat-soaked roots.
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, dumbass,” he mutters. “She can handle herself, and Adhira wouldn’t have agreed to the suggestion if she weren’t really okay with it.” His tone is tense and low, his already limited patience rapidly dwindling, but the fact he ran it by her before speaking with me sets my anxiety at ease.
Clearly done with the conversation, he takes off towards the lockers, and I hurry to jog along the sidelines, keeping pace with him as he storms across the pitch.
“Alright, thanks. I appreciate you helping me get this set up.” I also appreciate the opportunity to not have to live alone anymore.
He stops to yank open the door. A cool blast of air thick with the scent of sweat and man musk slaps me in the face as he claps me on the shoulder, squeezing my rigid muscles. “Don’t mention it.” He grunts, turning away and leaving me gaping as the door swings towards me, nearly smacking me in the face. I regain use of my limbs, throwing a hand out to catch it.
Following him inside, I go through the motions of stripping and hopping in the shower before dragging my arse to the parking lot, with the familiar heaviness of bone-deep exhaustion weighing on me as I make the trip to my flat.
I toss open the car door, climb out, and am quickly reminded of how much I need to move. The stench of old piss and rotten rubbish wafts from the poorly lit street. The streetlight meant to illuminate the walkway to the front entrance is flickering again, and I already know that my landlord hasn’t fixed the door lock like he promised while I was away for our match.
Somewhere behind me, footsteps scrape, faint and quick. The flickering light hums louder, and I can’t tell if it’s real or just the exhaustion messing with my head.
I sprint down the three stone steps of the sunken entrance, clutching my duffel bag to my side. A shiver rolls down my spinewith awareness. I’m being watched. I ignore it, jiggling the door handle, finding I was right. The lock isn’t fixed.
I push inside, flicking on the lights, and slump against the door. My shoulders sag with fatigue, mildew-sodden air coating my nostrils like smoke.
My gaze flicks to the living room, and a loud groan escapes me. “For fuck's sake,” I whine. They took the TV but couldn’t be bothered to remove the wall mount while they were at it? I’ll add it to the list of shite I need to do before I move out of this hellhole.
I drop my bag onto the grimy laminate, the faded floral pattern—once new, like lipstick on this pig of a flat—now nearly scrubbed to nothing. I grab the second-hand wooden chair from my makeshift dining area, wedge it under the door handle, then trudge into the living room. It’s quiet.Always so damn quiet.
My phone rings in my pocket, and a quick, knowing smile tugs on my lips as I answer. I angle the forward-facing camera to hide my messy blond waves and place it on the edge of the small sleeper sofa.
I’m accosted with a view of my own face, bright-green eyes clashing against a weary expression, dark circles a telltale sign of my exhaustion. But my sisters are young and, thankfully, still unaware of the many stressors constantly threatening to rock the foundation of their lives. I’m determined to delay the day when they realise it isn’t just a physically demanding career that causes me to look so tired.
Even through the blur of the screen, I straighten my shoulders, forcing brightness into my eyes the way I do before a game. They deserve the best version of me, even when it’s a lie.
“Good evening, little ladies. How was your day?” I chirp into the line, and I’m met with giggling laughter and bright eyes.
“Mummy took us to feed the ducks!” Ellie’s voice chimes with her excitement. Some of the weight of my loneliness liftsfrom my shoulders as I latch onto her every jovial word. She and Lyla tell me all about their day while I pack, cleaning up after my latest burglar and preparing to flee the confines of this wasteland my landlord calls a safe living environment.
I might have premiership money now, but I sure as shite hadn’t when I first got here. And with Mum unable to work until recently, fatigue and the strain of her treatments weighing her down, this was the best I could do. The memory of her soft, “We’ll be alright, love,” echoes through me, grounding me as I glance around the trashed flat. That little reminder sends a spark of pride through my chest at just how far I’ve come.
My captain knowing someone in need of a flatmate is like a kiss on my cheek from the sun herself—the break I’ve been begging for—and I can’t bloody wait.
CHAPTER
FOUR
