Page 56 of Last Line of Defense

“I’m listening.”

She exhales slowly and sets her cup down on the table with a soft clink.

“Alicia seems to be doing much better. Physically, I mean. The latest stress tests have been quite positive. It’s clear that your care is doing her good.”

“That’s what I’m paid for, and that’s what I do,” I say with cool composure. “I haven’t put in all those hours of therapy and strengthening exercises on that joint just to fall short of optimal results.”

“I know, I know, you’ll have her as good as new,” she admits, raising her hands. “Although, to be honest, I’m not entirely comfortable with her pushing herself so hard during the sessions. She always wants to reach the same physical level as the others, and it’s obvious her body can’t keep up. At least not yet.”

“That’s no secret to me, Alba. I’m her physical therapist. She’s been doing whatever she wants ever since she joined the club.”

Alba nods slowly, drumming her fingers on the table, as if she were carefully organizing her thoughts before dropping the bombshell.

“I guess working side by side with someone like her can’t be easy. That girl has a whole storm raging inside her,” she says, pointing to her head.

That damn phrase cuts both ways, and we both know it perfectly well. I feel a slow, cold, uncomfortable tension run down my spine.

“It’s my job,” I reply with impeccable firmness, crossing my arms. “I have an obligation to work with all of you and get your bodies back in shape, whether I’m thrilled by your personalities or the way you are or not.”

“Sure, of course,” she repeats with a gentleness that drives me up the wall, leaning forward slightly over the table. “But it’s one thing to work professionally with someone… and quite another to get too personally involved.”

And there’s the blow. Right to the jugular.

My muscles tense, going on high alert, though I force myself—out of pride—to maintain my composure and keep up the nothing’s going on here expression.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re trying to imply, Alba.”

Alba holds my gaze with a calmness that I find truly disconcerting.

“I’m not implying anything that isn’t obvious to anyone who spends more than five minutes around the two of you, Clara. I’m just telling you, as captain, that rumors spread fast, and when those rumors directly involve a staff member and a player with Alicia’s media profile… things get complicated for the whole club.”

The distant noise from the kitchen briefly fills the silence hanging between us. I feel my heart pounding with tremendous force against my ribs, as if it wants to burst out of my chest, and I know my situation isn’t easy—that I could lose my job—but what worries me is Alicia’s career and the amount of crap the press might end up saying about her. If this blows up and reaches the board’s ears, the public judgment and punishment won’t fall on me. It will fall squarely on her. On the troublemaker. On the problematic star with a history. On the woman the media has already invented far too many horror stories about. They can fire me like any other member of this club, but her… all the spotlights are on her.

“I don’t know what kind of nonsense you’ve been hearing out there,” I say at last, clearing my throat so my voice sounds much colder, more distant, and sharper, “but I assure you that my relationship with Alicia is strictly and rigorously professional.”

Alba raises one eyebrow ever so slightly, revealing a skepticism that would disarm anyone.

“Professional to the point where you look at each other as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist?” she asks me gently. “Look, Clara, I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen perfectly well how you look at her and how she looks at you every time you walk through the door. Besides, what happened last night at the pool…”

I feel a treacherous heat rush up my neck at breakneck speed, turning me as red as a tomato.

“Alba, that’s enough.”

“I couldn’t care less who you sleep with,” she interrupts, raising a hand to stop my protest. “Seriously, for all I care, the two of you could get married tomorrow. But I am concerned—very concerned—about the stability of the team. The team needs focus and absolute peace of mind, Clara. And Alicia… well, all of us know that Alicia doesn’t exactly have the best track record in the world when it comes to behavior. She’s caused trouble at every club she’s played for before coming to England. If this goes wrong and turns into a scandal, she’ll be the one to pay the highest price and end up on the bench. And I refuse to let us become the focus of media attention because of a scandal involving women instead of our goals.”

The harsh and unfair way she delivers her words makes something inside me snap with rage. I’m getting really, really tired of always hearing the same condescending spiel about Alicia, as if she were some kind of defective time bomb about to explode at any moment. As if no one in this damn sport would bother to wonder how much pain, how much loneliness, and how many betrayals lie behind that tough-girl facade she’s built up to survive.

“You don’t really know Alicia, Alba,” I blurt out before my professional filter can stop me from speaking up. “You have no idea what she had to go through at her previous club, or why she gets so defensive sometimes. You only see the surface—the distorted version of her that the media and hallway rumors have created.”

“Maybe that’s precisely your big problem,” she replies with devastating gentleness. “That you do believe you really know her. And that all that empathy is clouding your judgment.”

With that, she slowly rises from her chair, picks up her coffee, and walks away. She leaves me sitting there, completely frozen, with the coffee growing completely cold in my hands and an unbearable, heavy, suffocating pressure crushing my chest. Because if one thing is clear, it’s that the rumors have long since ceased to be mere gossip, and I’m starting to lose the ability to protect both of us.

· · ·

Night finally falls over the complex with a calm that feels utterly deceptive to me. The rooms reserved for staff are located in a rather secluded area of the main residential building, which makes them much quieter, darker, and more private. However, all that tranquility outside has absolutely nothing to do with the mental chaos and whirlwind of doubts I’ve been carrying inside since my run-in with Alba.

I’ve tried everything I can to focus on the medical reports, the recovery charts, and the rehabilitation plans for next week. Anything to keep my mind occupied and keep me from going crazy. But it’s useless; every path, every chart, and every line inevitably leads me back to the same place: Alicia. Her crooked, mischievous smile when she manages to make me burst out laughing despite how hard I try to stay serious. Her magnetic gaze that seems to pierce my soul every time she looks at me. The way she seeks me out so directly, as if I were the only person in this whole damn country capable of truly understanding her.