Chapter 2 #2
“Sure.” As she pulled on her navy-blue clothes, Lia allowed herself to bask in a rare moment of solitude.
The tracksuit pants and the matching T-shirt were soft and breathable, and the hooded jacket that she zipped to her chin was comfortable.
Wearing a football kit had always felt like armour, and Lia supposed there was no reason why this one couldn’t feel the same, even if it was a colour she wasn’t used to.
Stepping out into the corridor, Lia took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing nerves. But it was no use. She followed Milly around Park Lane, barely concentrating on a word she said.
“Hey, are you okay?” Milly set a gentle hand on Lia’s elbow, a frown on her face.
“I’m fine.” The lie came easily to Lia’s lips. “It’s just a little overwhelming.”
Milly’s smile was sympathetic. “I understand. This is your first time being part of a big transfer, right?”
“I’ve been at Wanderers since I was sixteen. Didn’t have any of this fanfare then.”
“Well, that’s what you get for being one of the best in the world.
” Milly squeezed her arm. “I know it’s a lot, but I promise we’ll get you through it.
Everyone in the team here is great—they’ll have you settled in in no time.
And anytime you need someone to talk to, come to me.
Whenever you need it. It’s my job to be here for you, okay? ”
Gratitude flooded through Lia. It was nice to know there was at least one friendly face at Albion. “Thanks, Milly. I appreciate that, even if it hasn’t seemed like it today.”
“Are you kidding? I used to work for a men’s Premier League team—you’re a dream compared to some of those egos.
And it’s just a few more hours today, and then you’ll have the evening to decompress.
By the time you’re done with training, all your belongings will have been moved into your new apartment. ”
One of the best things about a team having a player liaison manager was not having to worry about anything. Milly had found her a new place in a sleek apartment building in central Manchester a few minutes away from Park Lane.
“Come on, I’ll show you the most important room in this place next.” Milly led her down a set of stairs and along a long hallway until they reached a set of double doors.
Beyond them was a canteen full of a dozen tables, the seats blue and the walls painted the same colour to match Albion’s home kit.
Large glass counters housed the offerings from the kitchen staff, though most of them were empty.
A handful of people bustled around the room, tidying after the breakfast rush.
They waved at her as she and Milly stepped inside.
TV screens lined the walls, and Lia’s face stared back at her from each one. To say that her transfer had caused a splash was an understatement.
“It’s not usually this quiet,” Milly said. “The team are in a meeting now, being told about your arrival.”
A shiver of apprehension trickled down Lia’s spine.
She needed to make a good impression if she wanted to do well at Albion.
And she was determined to do that. Her decision to leave Wanderers may have been hasty, but she was going to prove that she’d chosen the right path.
“I’m guessing I’m supposed to make an entrance? ”
“If you’re up for it. If not, I can lie and say our photo shoot overran.”
While Lia appreciated the offer, she’d need to get it over with sooner rather than later. “Nah, I’m good. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
* * *
Erin stared blankly at Ayla’s face, trying to take in what she was saying.
“I think most of you have heard the news by now.” Albion’s coach stood at the front of the briefing room with her muscled arms folded across her chest, gaze flitting around the faces of the thirty players sitting in the comfy chairs before her.
Ayla had been an incredible player in her prime, a pioneer of the women’s game, paving the way for those who came after her to be full-time professionals.
Since her playing career had ended, she’d scaled her way to the top levels of management and was the first Black coach to win all four domestic trophies.
All of them in her five years at Albion.
Erin respected her a lot, but with how chaotic her thoughts had been ever since hearing the news about Lia, she found it hard to concentrate on Ayla’s words.
“It wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
No, a breaking news announcement wasn’t how Erin wished she’d found out, either. Worse—it hadn’t been a joke. Lia Ashcroft was somewhere in the building, about to waltz into the first team squad, about to take Erin’s position on the pitch, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
“The timing is good for us—Lia is able to join our pre-season tour in the US next week. That’ll be a good chance for you all to get to know her and hopefully start to gel together on the pitch before the season starts in September.”
Back when Erin had first started out, she’d been lucky to play any kind of pre-season at all.
Even a few years ago, it had meant two or three matches against their nearest opposition.
Now, as the women’s game continued on its upward trajectory, they were offered the kind of lucrative tours that had been historically reserved for the men’s teams. Last year, they’d travelled to Australia.
This year, New York City was their destination.
Erin’s injury hadn’t gotten her out of going. It wasn’t like she was going to get on the training pitch, but Ayla had been insistent that the whole squad make the journey—because they were set to bond off the pitch as well as on it.
Yuck.
A light knock sounded on the door, and Ayla’s face broke into a smile. “That should be her now.”
The door creaked open, and Lia’s face loomed in the gap. Green eyes darted around the room, her brown hair falling in loose waves around her pale cheeks instead of in her usual matchday ponytail.
As she stepped inside the room, Lia buried her hands into the pockets of her navy-blue jacket. A thirteen was emblazoned across her chest, answering the question of what number shirt she’d be wearing. Unlucky for some—and certainly for Erin.
Ayla ushered Lia over to where she stood at the front of the room. “Everyone, please give a warm Albion welcome to our newest recruit, Lia Ashcroft!”
Applause rang out as the team took Lia in.
She didn’t seem comfortable being the centre of attention, which went against the assured cockiness Erin associated her with whenever they’d met on the pitch.
Had that all been an air—or was this the act?
Pretending to be nervous so people would feel sorry for her and welcome her with open arms?
“Lia is an incredible talent,” Ayla said.
“She has everything you could possibly want in a footballer—pace, strength, and a hardworking attitude—not to mention that she certainly knows how to find the back of the net.” Ayla’s smile turned wry as her gaze found Erin.
“Only one of our own came close to outscoring her last season.”
Beneath the bandage, Erin’s knee throbbed, and she gritted her teeth.
Ayla wasn’t done yet. “I am so excited to see where this season takes us with so much firepower at our disposal. Lia, is there anything you want to say to your new teammates?”
With her cheeks flushed pink, Lia swallowed.
It had to be an act. Erin didn’t buy for a second this was the same woman she had met on the pitch.
“Um, just that I am so happy to be here. I can’t wait to get started and get to know you all.” Though she hadn’t mastered the same projection as Ayla, her words still carried to where Erin sat in the back row.
“Well, I’ll leave you to say hello. Lia is such a consummate professional that she’s joining us for training this afternoon—diving right in.” With an approving smile, Ayla stepped back.
Erin’s teammates swarmed around Lia, but Erin made a beeline for Ayla before the coach could leave the room. Or as much of a beeline as she could manage these days, anyway.
Ayla’s mouth tightened when Erin reached her, and she tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear. As always, her nails were immaculately painted. This week, they were blue. “Erin. How’s the knee?”
Knowing Ayla didn’t really want the answer, Erin ignored the question. As coach, she’d be kept up to date with every single one of Erin’s movements from the team doctors and physiotherapists. “Why is she here? Am I being replaced?”
“Of course not. There’s no replacing our best player.” Ayla should know flattery wouldn’t get her anywhere. “But it’ll be months before you’re back on the pitch. Longer until you’re at full-match fitness. Did you expect us to spend a whole season without an out-and-out striker?”
Well, no. It was, of course, better for the team as a whole to have not just an out-and-out striker, but a good one to keep them competitive. The more trophies Albion won, the better. But…
“I didn’t expect her.” Why couldn’t it have been anyone else? Why did it have to be the one player everyone kept touting as Erin’s successor? As the young striker coming for her crown and all her records? Now she’d be forced to watch it happen.
And would there still be a place for Erin when she was back?
Lia couldn’t have come cheap, and Erin’s wages were on the high side, too.
She had one of the most lucrative contracts in the Women’s Super League, thanks to her fantastic goalscoring records.
Could Albion justify keeping them both? Or would Erin be sold to make way for Lia to become their new star?
“Neither did we.” Ayla gave a disbelieving shake of her head. “She’d not long signed a contract extension with Wanderers. She shouldn’t have been available. But when we heard she was, I wasn’t about to let that chance go.”
Regrettably, Erin understood. Were she in Ayla’s position, she would have done the same thing, but that didn’t lessen the sting.
Ayla met Erin’s gaze. “And I have faith that the two of you will be able to play together once you’re back to full fitness. You’re both formidable alone—how incredible can you be as a striking partnership?”
Erin fought the urge to shake her head, to tell Ayla she didn’t want to work as a pair. “So there’s still a place for me here? Even with her?” She hated how vulnerable it made her sound—and hated the sympathy that washed over Ayla’s face more.
“Of course there is, Erin. And I, for one, am looking forward to what the two of you can achieve together over the next three years.”
* * *
“I still can’t believe you’re here.” Cerys was the first player to embrace Lia, skipping to the front of the queue and wrapping Lia in her arms.
Some of Lia’s nerves eased as she inhaled Cerys’ familiar perfume, her nose tickled by a face full of unruly red curls. Her international teammate, they’d been playing together for Wales since the age of fifteen, and kept their close bond despite—until now, at least—playing for rival teams.
Cerys cupped her cheeks. “Like, are you really standing in Albion’s briefing room right now?”
“Better believe it.” The joy on Cerys’ face meant Lia’s smile was her first genuine one in days.
“Oh, we are going to have so much fun together.”
“Don’t hog the newbie.”
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.