Chapter 11
The Spanish sun warmed Erin’s skin as she stepped onto the grass.
Along with the rest of the team, she’d arrived yesterday at their hotel in Marbella for Albion’s mid-season training camp, and she couldn’t wait to get started.
Around her, excited chatter swelled as her teammates caught up on how they’d spent the Christmas holidays, but Erin didn’t care enough to tune in to what they were saying.
How could she, when today was the first day she was going to kick a ball around with her team again?
Finally, she’d progressed in her rehab enough to get back on a pitch—even if it was only a training pitch.
Erin didn’t care, filled with a giddy kind of excitement she hadn’t felt in years.
It wasn’t full training. She couldn’t have any contact with anyone else, but she could pass the ball, she could run with the ball, and, most importantly, she could smash shots past their goalkeeper.
Her first attempt thundered into the top corner, past Gina’s gloves.
Shanice clapped Erin on the back. “Nice to see you haven’t lost it.”
Much as she’d never admit it to anyone else, Erin was glad, too. Some of her fears that she’d have to start from the beginning, that she’d never get back to her best, ebbed away as the session went on.
By the time they’d finished, Erin was sweaty and exhausted, her shirt stuck to her skin and her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath—but oh, she was in heaven.
“That was fantastic, honey.” Her father beamed at Erin from the side of the pitch. Since their hotel was a meagre ten minutes from his apartment, he’d made the trip out to watch her train.
“Sorry it wasn’t a game.” It couldn’t have been interesting for him, but he’d insisted on coming along anyway.
Erin knew no longer being able to come to watch her play made him feel guilty, but Erin didn’t begrudge him.
He’d done his time—more than enough—and she was happy he was free to live his own life now that both his daughters were fully independent.
“Oh, it’s fine.” Heedless of her soaked shirt, he wrapped her in a hug. “It’s so good to see you back out there. How do you feel?”
“Good.”
“You sure? You were hesitant using your bad leg.”
Trust him to notice. Then again, he’d spent years analysing Erin’s game with her. She shouldn’t expect anything less. “I know. But it’s not because I’m in any pain—it’s all in my head.”
“It’s natural to be worried something bad might happen again,” he said, still keeping a secure arm wrapped around her lower back, “but you need to trust your body.”
Her body that had failed her a few months ago. “I’ll get there.”
She had to.
“Good.” He gave her one last squeeze. “Well, I’ll let you—Alex!” His face broke into a wide smile as they appeared behind Erin. “Come here, give me a big hug.”
“I’m all sweaty.”
“Psh, a little sweat never hurt anyone. Besides—I’m covered in Erin’s already anyway.”
“I’m not sure that’s the draw you think it is, Mr. Finch.” But Alex allowed themself to be enveloped in his arms.
“Will you join Erin and me for dinner later tonight?”
Erin needn’t have worried about the scheduling. They had several evenings free, and Erin was going to take full advantage of seeing her father while they were both in the same place.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alex said.
His smile widened impossibly further. “Excellent. Well, I’ll let you two clean yourselves up, and I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Dad.” Erin fell into step beside Alex as they walked back indoors. She couldn’t wait for a shower—and a rest; she was exhausted.
A few of her teammates congratulated Erin on her return as they passed her.
Lia was one of them, her smile soft as she pressed her fingers briefly to the back of Erin’s shoulder. “Great to see you back out there, Erin. Can’t wait ?til you’re on the pitch for real.”
“Thanks, Lia.”
Before they stepped into the locker room, Alex stopped Erin with a hand on her shoulder. “Sooo, what’s the deal with you and Ashcroft?”
“What? There is no deal.” Erin glanced over her shoulder, checking that none of their other teammates were nearby. “Weren’t you the one telling me to get along with her?”
“Yes, but I never expected you to listen.”
“Sometimes you have good ideas.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “So it’s a good idea, talking to her?”
“Why do I feel like you’re trying to make this out to be something that it’s not?”
“Because I think it is something. You acted like she was the devil incarnate when she signed, and now you’re best buds?”
Crinkling her nose, Erin shook her head. “We are not best buds. We talk—sometimes. It started because Maisie is obsessed with her and kept dragging me over to her. But she’s not so bad.”
“Not so bad? Coming from you, that’s almost a declaration of love.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Tired of the conversation, Erin made to push past Alex. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” Alex’s voice echoed behind her as Erin shouldered open the door. “Or am I right on the money, and that’s why you’re being so defensive?”
Erin didn’t dignify Alex with a response. Of course they were being ridiculous. Erin had a rule, which Alex knew full well. Just because she was talking to someone didn’t mean Erin had feelings for them.
What a preposterous idea.
* * *
“All right, team, last one!” Ayla yelled from the side of the pitch. “Then let’s call it—I think you’ve worked hard enough today.”
Lia had to agree. Sweat dripped down her back as she readied herself for one final drill. It was a simple one. All she had to do was cross the ball to Erin and watch her shoot for the goal.
So far, Erin had put them all away with ease. It was her third training session with the team since her injury, but it was like she’d never left—she was still sharp and still able to find the back of the net with lethal accuracy.
Shanice passed her the ball, and Lia used one touch to roll it into Erin’s path. The pass was ahead of where she seemed to expect it, so Erin had to stretch forward to make contact with the ball—and as she did, she let out a shout.
A hand clutched the back of her right leg; she stopped short with a grimace.
“Shit.” Lia raced over to her, guilt flooding her stomach; it had been her pass that had caused Erin to pull up. “What is it?”
Frustrated tears shone in Erin’s eyes as she shook her head. “I think it’s my hamstring.”
Lia didn’t get the chance to say anything else as Erin was swarmed by Ayla and the team physios. All she could do was stand and watch, along with the rest of the team, as Erin limped away, no doubt for tests and scans.
“Maybe I should’ve called it quits earlier.” Ayla’s sigh was heavy. “But I’m sure Erin will bounce back—and she wouldn’t want any of you to worry about her. And you never know: Maybe this is all an elaborate ploy on Erin’s behalf to get out of cocktails and salsa dancing in the hotel bar tonight.”
Few people laughed at the joke. Lia glanced at Alex, who stared at the place from where Erin had disappeared with a frown etched onto their face. After all Erin had been through, after how hard she’d fought to get back to training with the team, Lia couldn’t imagine how Erin felt.
And though it wasn’t her fault, Lia couldn’t shake the guilt. Would Erin blame her? Would all the progress they’d made over the last few months go up in smoke?
How was Lia supposed to have fun laughing and drinking with her teammates when somewhere else in the hotel, Erin was likely in a dark place?
As they walked back to the locker room, Lia sought out Alex. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
Alex gave her a long look. “Honestly? I doubt it. The last few months have been rough for her. She won’t take a setback well.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“She’ll want to be left alone.”
“That doesn’t sound healthy.”
“So, what?” Alex arched an eyebrow in an Erin-like manoeuvre. “You want to coax her to the hotel bar for a cocktail or two? You think that’ll cheer her up? Watching all the people who are fit enough to play dancing and singing?”
“I guess not.”
“Look.” Alex came to a stop outside the locker room door. “I know Erin, okay? She won’t want any fuss. And while she knew the risks of them using her hamstring to rebuild her ACL, she wouldn’t have expected this. But she’s tough. She’ll be okay.”
Lia remembered Erin on her couch with Maisie curled between them, spilling her worries about her body failing her, and wasn’t sure she agreed with Alex. Erin wanted everyone to think she was tough, but underneath?
Underneath, she was fragile.
And Lia wasn’t willing to watch her self-destruct, no matter what Alex thought was for the best.
* * *
It’s not a full tear, but it’s a partial one. It’s going to set you back by a few weeks.
The doctor’s words spun around and around in Erin’s head as she lay on her hotel room couch in the dark. Her eyes stung, the skin around them raw, but no more tears were forthcoming—she’d shed them all already.
Three days. Three days was all she’d managed before going back on the injury list. Was this her life now? A few training sessions here and there, only to be forced back into rehab?
In her whole career, she could count the number of muscle or tendon injuries she’d had on one hand. And now she’d had two in eight months? Erin wanted to tear out her own hair.
A knock sounded on her door.
“Go away, Alex!” Only they would dare bother Erin tonight. “I’m not in the mood.”
“It’s not Alex.” Lia’s uncertain voice called through the wood.
Well, Erin hadn’t expected that. Lia should be in the lobby, four cocktails in and dancing to Copocabana along with the rest of their teammates. “The sentiment still applies. If I don’t want to see Alex, I don’t want to see you.”
Her words were designed to sting, to send Lia skittering away. But the voice came again. “I just want to check that you’re okay.”
“Well, I’m not. Go away.”
“I also wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
What? Lia didn’t have anything to apologise for.
“Please, Erin. Let me in.”