Chapter 2 Liam
Liam
I’ve just run my arse off and the cold April air still chills me to the bone.
“Well done, lads!” Coach Miller says as we jog off the training pitch.
“Murphy!” he says.
I stall, lagging behind the others as they head inside. “What’s up, Coach?”
He jerks his chin toward his office. “A word.”
Ah, shite.
Danielle, my new agent, scrambled to get me another contract outside of Dublin shortly after I was dropped, which brought me and Finn to London. A fresh start. And I’ve gone and blown it already. I can’t catch a bloody break.
Tash was gone by the time I returned from the training grounds after knocking the living daylights out of Keogh.
The only communication I’ve had with her since has been via email—sorting out the sale of the house, dividing assets, securing full custody—cowardly, if you ask me.
She won’t answer her bleedin’ phone. Not even for Finn.
While she was living it up with Adam, I hit an all-time low. Each night for the first two weeks, after Finn had gone to bed, I’d get on the drink. I thought I lost everything until Danielle flew out to Dublin and somehow swindled me a second chance. And now… here I am.
Chiswick Park United brought me over at the end of December, once I was released by Emerald Rovers.
With the early arrival, I could play through winter and early spring with the other transfers.
I needed to put down roots and make a few allies.
Especially with the reputation that followed me across the Irish Sea.
Adam-fucking-Keogh made sure of that. The piece of shite.
Finn spends his days at my cousin Roman’s place while I train.
Roman’s wife, Zoey, is a godsend—keeping Finn busy, helping him settle.
Their daughter, Melody, is the same age as Finn, so he’s had company while I’ve had to work.
The move’s been hard on him. To let him adjust, we’re waiting until late April, a couple of weeks from now, before sending him to his new school in Richmond.
Finn’s a lively and happy-go-lucky kid—there’s not much that stirs him up or gets him down—but Tash’s absence has been rough.
He’s usually bursting with energy, speeding around the house, singing, dancing, playing.
He keeps me on my toes with his cheek. But, in the four months since the move, he’s been hiding himself away in his room and barely speaks unless spoken to.
Even then, his response is an unenthused murmur.
Tash and I were de facto, so she’s come after half of everything—including the house I purchased under my name.
The house I bought for our family to grow in.
So, yeah, I want the money from my new team.
Not for anything flash. Just to keep us afloat.
For safety. I follow Coach inside and take a seat at his desk, trying to gauge his expression.
My body automatically tenses for a scolding.
The last time I was called into a coach’s office, I was released from the Emerald Rovers. I’m not expecting anything good.
In football years, I’m approaching retirement age and I need to hold out as long as I can.
I can’t mess up this new contract. I need to make sure I can take care of Finn.
I don’t ever want him to feel that pang of panic at opening an empty fridge.
So many nights I went to bed hungry—not because there wasn’t food, but because my da wanted to teach me a lesson.
I swore Finn would never know that feeling.
Coach Miller’s red and yellow club tracksuit rustles as he sinks into his chair, his hands steepled in his lap as he studies me. “That was some play back there.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise and my shoulders settle. “Thanks.”
“I mean it, Murphy. Spring training’s gone well, ahead of preseason. I’m impressed, and I don’t say that lightly.” He smooths a hand over his salt-and-pepper mustache. “But heading into the season, I need you to keep your nose clean. That means no brawling. Got it?”
“Got it, Coach,” I reply.
“You seem to be getting on well with the other lads.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. This is the first positive feedback I’ve had from authority in months.
He adjusts his cap. “Some of the board weren’t thrilled when I signed you on as a striker.
Word travels fast in this league, Murphy, and people weren’t impressed when they heard you’d beaten up a teammate.
I knew it was a risk bringing you in, but I see potential.
I see hunger. Keep proving them wrong, and we’ll get along just fine. ”
I know I screwed up in Dublin. I was well known in Ireland, and I expected that recognition to follow me over to England.
It has, somewhat. I hear the whispers when I’m shopping at my local Tesco.
I see strangers on the street pull their phones out to snap pictures as I walk by.
So I need to keep my head down. Every mistake I make is magnified.
Every move is scrutinized. One slip, and I’m the tabloids’ favorite headline again.
I can’t mess this up. I have to get it right. For Finn. By some miracle, I’ve been given another opportunity and now I have to prove I deserve it.
“Will do, Coach.”
“Go get changed. Enjoy your weekend and I’ll see you Monday.”
“Aye,” I say, getting up and making my way to the locker room, feeling the calmest I have in a long time.
Jack, one of the other new transfers, claps me on the shoulder as he passes, grinning. “Nice work, Murphy.”
“Cheers,” I reply, still getting used to hearing praise.
He sheds his training shirt, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “The lads and I are heading out for a few drinks. You coming?”
I peer around the room, taking in my teammates’ expressions. A few of them shoot me a nod and a smile of encouragement.
My mouth twitches, just shy of a smile. “Yeah, all right. Why not?”