Chapter 16 #2
She leaned forward to press one last kiss to Erin’s lips before slipping from her bed. The cold air made her shiver, and she was quick to locate her clothes strewn across the floor, dragging them on with the weight of Erin’s heavy gaze on her.
Once dressed, Lia hovered in the doorway, unsure of what to say. How did you say goodbye to the woman that had just made you see stars, whom you had to look in the eye on the football field in two days’ time? “I’ll see you at training on Friday?”
“I’m not planning on missing it. Goodnight, Lia. Happy birthday.”
Erin had given her a very happy birthday indeed.
* * *
“Goddammit!” Ayla kicked the ground with the toe of her Nikes as the ball slid past Albion’s keeper.
Around the stands, five thousand fans groaned in unison.
Fifteen minutes left in the game, and the score was tied at 1-1 in the League Cup semi-final. From her seat on the bench, Erin shook her head—they’d been too lax with the ball all game, too slow with their passes, and Aston Villa had punished them for it.
“Finch!” Ayla turned toward Erin, a frantic gleam in her eye. It was rare for her to show such emotion during a game, but she would not want her dream of the elusive quadruple to fail at the first hurdle. “Do your final warm-ups. You’re going on.”
“What?” Panic fluttered through Erin’s chest. She hadn’t expected more than a five-minute cameo in her first game back—ideally once the game had already been wrapped up, allowing her to string a few passes together, maybe have a shot on target.
She had not expected to be brought on to win the match.
“What’s the matter?” Ayla settled her hands on her hips. “Not ready?”
“No!” Erin leapt to her feet, shaking her head. “No, I’m ready.”
“Are you sure? It’s not like you to hesitate.” With narrowed eyes, Ayla’s gaze scoured Erin’s face. “Because if you’re not—”
“I said I’m good.” Before Ayla could argue further, Erin hurried off down the touchline.
Earlier, she’d jogged half-heartedly back and forth, knowing she wasn’t close to stepping onto the pitch. Now she sprinted, heart racing in her chest, feeling the buzz of anticipation in the crowd.
Three minutes later, Ayla was waving her over, and Erin shrugged off her jacket, leaving her in her crisp blue-and-white Albion shirt, the number eleven emblazoned on her back.
“Sure you’re ready?” Ayla asked one last time.
“I’m ready.”
“Good.” Ayla clapped her on the back. “Because we’re not going out like this. Get on there and give ?em hell, Erin.”
She swallowed.
No pressure.
But she’d always thrived under pressure. She loved having her back against the wall, going against the odds. Being the difference maker.
Most of all, she loved playing football.
And she’d really fucking missed it.
Alex was the player who came off for her, and they yanked Erin into a bear hug as their paths crossed, holding her for one second too long before releasing her. All around the stadium, cheers rang out as the announcer called her name.
Nine months and she was back on the pitch, studs sinking into the turf as she took her place behind Lia, who was at the spearhead of their attack.
Somewhere in the crowd, Maisie and Jessica would be screaming, but Erin didn’t dare look for them. Emotion wasn’t something she often felt on the pitch. She did her best to push it down, to keep her thoughts rational. But as five thousand people chanted her name, she had to blink back tears.
Seeing Maisie’s beaming face would tip her over the edge.
A few metres away, Lia caught Erin’s eye and smiled. Erin refused to acknowledge the thrill it sent through her. Now was not the time to reminisce on what had happened between them a few days ago.
Now was the time to propel Albion into yet another cup final.
Thirty seconds in, Lia rolled the ball into Erin’s path. She raced onto the end of the pass, taking the ball past two defenders. The third forced her wide, the angle too tight for Erin to take a shot, and the ball was eventually bundled out of play for a corner.
Erin felt more alive than she had in months, a thrill in her veins as she was jostled about in the penalty box.
Nothing resulted from it, the ball sailing over everyone’s heads and straight out for a goal kick, but the confidence of doing something to help her team for the first time in months was electric.
Four minutes later, Erin picked the ball up in midfield. Without needing to lift her head, she knew where Lia would be—on the shoulder of the last defender, ready to race goalwards if the ball was chipped over the top.
So that was exactly what Erin did.
The swiftness of the move—and the quality of the pass—took everyone by surprise.
Everyone other than Lia, who had been on the receiving end of similar passes on countless occasions during their training drills.
Erin stood, hands on her hips, as Lia sprinted past Aston Villa’s defence to collect Erin’s pass with a simple touch of her boot.
Taking it in her stride, Lia raced toward the keeper—and slotted it past her into the goal’s far corner.
“Yes!” Shanice roared louder than the crowd, hauling Erin into a hug. “That’s what I’m talking about, Finch! I knew you and her would be a good team!” Shanice shook Erin’s shoulders so hard, her teeth rattled. She then jogged off to celebrate with Lia by the goal.
Before going over to join them, Erin took a moment to herself. She cast her gaze toward the stand where she’d spent every home game for the past few months, searching for a familiar face.
There.
Maisie was on her feet, waving a sign in her hands. This far away, Erin couldn’t read it, but Maisie had sent her a picture of it before the match. It read Welcome back, Auntie Erin in big blue glittery letters, painstakingly done by hand.
Throat tight, Erin waved toward her before heading for the corner flag, where Lia had disappeared beneath the rest of their team. When she emerged, her eyes were bright, a flush on her cheeks as their gazes met.
And sure, Erin would have loved to bag the winning goal herself. It would have made for a better comeback story, that was for sure. But grabbing an assist was sweet, too. And the look on Lia’s face, the satisfaction at being the difference maker, yet again—that was perfect, too.
They didn’t have a chance to share a private moment, to speak to one another before they were being urged back to their own for the restart, but that was okay. Erin would have time to seek Lia out later.
To be properly thanked for her picture-perfect pass.
To properly thank Lia in return for putting Albion back ahead.
For the remainder of the game, Albion kept all eleven players behind the ball. Erin would have preferred not to be so much on defence, to try and score another goal and put the game to bed. But she wasn’t in charge of their tactics.
So instead, she held the front of the line, hounding Aston Villa’s midfield whenever they lingered too long on the ball. In the ninety-fourth minute, she timed a tackle to perfection, taking it off Villa’s number eight, to the delighted cheers of the crowd.
She passed the ball—only to be caught by the same player she’d dispossessed. The ground rose to meet her, and Erin crashed onto her bad knee as the referee blew her whistle.
For a moment, Erin couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Memories of the past few months, of every agonising step of her recovery, washed over her as she sat on the grass. Everything around her melted away. Until a hand settled on the small of her back.
“Are you okay?” Lia’s voice was in her ear, a frown between her eyebrows, her fingers warm through Erin’s shirt.
Erin was breathing too quickly and focused on the timbre of Lia’s breaths, the expansion and contraction of her chest. “I’m okay.” Stretching and rotating her leg, Erin was relieved when nothing ached. “I just panicked.”
“I think that’s to be anticipated.”
As Erin shifted, pushing herself into a crouch, Lia dropped her hand. Concern still shone in her eyes.
“I’m good.” Erin rose to her feet, blinking at Shanice arguing with the referee a few feet away.
“I don’t understand why it wasn’t a yellow,” Shanice said with a shake of her head. “There was no attempt to get the ball! She wiped her clean out.”
“My decision is final, Rookwood.” The referee set the ball on the grass, awarding a free kick, if not the card Shanice had requested. “Back off before I book you instead.”
With an annoyed shake of her head, Shanice turned away. “You good, Finch?”
“I’m good.” A part of Erin was ashamed she’d reacted like that to a simple foul. Before her injury, she’d have bounced straight back to her feet and brushed herself off. But now everything was different. “Let’s see this out.”
Shanice squeezed her shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Another two minutes—let’s do this, team!”
When the final whistle blew, Erin sagged in relief, exhausted.
With all the extra injury time, she’d played twenty-two minutes in total, but she felt like she’d run a marathon.
It hadn’t been the return she’d imagined, but if Erin had learned anything during her career, it was that in football, things rarely went to plan.
And she’d missed the high of a win. The buzzing beneath her skin, the itch to get out there and do it all over again.
And to be in another cup final, to have the chance to win the first trophy of the season—to potentially be involved in the win—was a balm to the painful ache of the last nine months.
Restless energy thrummed through her body as she shook hands with the opposition players. It always happened following a match. All the build-up and anticipation released in a burst of energy. Most of her teammates collapsed after a game, but not Erin.
Erin usually walked home rather than catching a ride. Or if they were away and had to get the bus back, she’d pace in the changing room until they had to leave, with the exhausted eyes of her teammates watching her move.
She wanted to get inside, to give Maisie a cuddle and hear her talk about the game, but she was instead dragged to do a TV interview with the BBC.
Beside Lia.
“How does it feel being back on the pitch, Erin?”
A microphone was pushed into her face, and Erin forced a smile, drawing on all her years of media training. “Good, yeah. Happy to be back out there and helping out the team.”
“And the knee’s holding up all right? You went down for a few minutes toward the end there.”
Erin forced back a wince at the reminder. “Nope, all good.”
“A dream start back—making the winning goal. How excited are you to play with Lia on a regular basis?”
Once again, Erin struggled not to react.
Because she would very much like to play with Lia on a regular basis.
In fact, the sooner Erin could do that, the better.
The heat of Lia’s body so close to her own was intoxicating.
All that restless, pent-up energy… What better way to let that out than by falling into bed once they were both back home?
“I think if we can keep teaming up like we did today, we’re going to have a great end to the season. ”
“And you, Lia.” The reporter pulled the microphone away from Erin’s mouth and pressed it to Lia’s. “Another goal scored today. Want to talk us through it?”
“Not much to talk you through.” Lia’s smile was full of charm. “Had to put it away after a pass like that.”
“And how are you feeling about having Erin back with the team?”
“Well, obviously, it’s our first match together. But I think it went well. I’m excited to see how much we can achieve together as a team.”
“Thank you both—good luck for the final.”
With a nod, Erin and Lia slipped away, shoulders brushing as they walked toward the tunnel.
The rest of the team were already inside, and there was only a handful of waving people left in the crowd.
Sparks erupted across Erin’s skin whenever she and Lia touched, Erin’s heart racing in anticipation of the possible night ahead.
“How are you feeling?” Lia hovered a step inside the tunnel, taking a moment before they rejoined the team. “Knee okay?”
“It feels good.” She’d need to do her warm-down and strengthening exercises to keep it healthy, but her knee didn’t feel tight. “You took the goal well.”
“Had to. Like I said—I couldn’t waste an incredible pass like that.” In the darkness of the tunnel, Lia’s eyes twinkled.
Erin hoped she could sense how her words stroked Erin’s ego. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Not sure. Might go out with some of the girls. Celebrate our win with a few drinks.”
Erin tried not to let her disappointment show.
“Unless…” Lia tucked her hands behind her back. “You can make me a better offer.”
If they were alone—truly alone, with no risk of being discovered—Erin would reach out and tug Lia close, and remind her exactly what Erin had to offer. A part of her was tempted to risk it anyway when Lia’s gaze met her own, restless energy searching for an outlet. A challenge stared back at her.
Well, two could play at that game. “I don’t want to take you away from your friends. Enjoy your drinks.” Erin made to move past Lia—and smirked when a hand closed around her wrist, trapping her in place.
“When do you want me?”
Right now, preferably. “Swing by when you get home.”
“Okay.” Lia squeezed her wrist once before releasing her grip. “I’ll see you later.”
Already, Erin couldn’t wait.