Chapter 6
Lia stepped off the elevator onto the seventh floor, surprised to see a black cat sitting in the middle of the hallway.
Some would say that was a sign of bad luck, but Lia was delighted as the cat flopped onto its back, big brown eyes watching Lia approach, its tail flicking lazily against the carpeted floor.
“Well, aren’t you gorgeous?” Lia crouched beside the cat, offering her hand for it to sniff before scratching behind its ears. “But I don’t think you should be out here. Where did you come from?”
The cat purred, leaning further into Lia’s touch. It was clearly well looked after, eyes bright and coat shiny, and when it tilted its chin for more scratches, Lia caught sight of the flash of a silver tag on the cat’s red collar.
Frantic footsteps sounded from the stairwell at the end of the hall as Lia was about to scoop the cat into her arms. The door was open; when the culprit came into focus, Lia swore under her breath.
Of course.
Erin Finch paused a few feet away, the panicked look in her eyes fading as they landed on the cat—only for her gaze to harden when it settled on Lia.
Since Erin’s unapologetic apology in New York, they hadn’t spoken. Lia had seen her around, of course. They’d had plenty of time together as a team. She had even caught Erin smiling at her phone on top of the Empire State Building, amazed that the woman had something of a heart after all.
“Let me guess.” Lia retracted her hand and rose to her feet. “This is your cat?”
“Yes.” Hearing Erin’s voice, the cat meowed and trotted over to Erin, winding around her ankles. “Maintenance were in my apartment earlier—he must’ve slipped out without them noticing.”
“And here I thought you were about to accuse me of stealing him.” Lia dug her hands into the pockets of her Albion sweatpants, wondering how Erin had such a friendly cat. So much for pets taking after their owners.
Not even a ghost of a smile crossed Erin’s lips. “You did look like you were about to pick him up.”
“To return him. Gerrard, huh? As in Steven Gerrard?”
“Obviously.” Erin folded her arms across her chest, and Gerrard pressed himself more firmly against her legs, like he could sense her unease. “What better name than one of the greatest English players to ever grace the game?”
Lia refrained from pointing out that Erin’s Liverpudlian heritage might make her biased. “What about one of the greatest female players?”
“He’s fourteen years old. You know how many big female players there were back then? Who were shown on the TV? Who I didn’t already play with?”
“Not many.” Lia had been lucky. At least during her teen years, women’s football had been accessible.
Not in the same way as the men’s game, but she had been able to catch games when they were televised.
Had known that it could be a career. Some of her teammates who had been in the game a lot longer than she had, hadn’t been as lucky.
Instead, they’d been the trail-blazers. The ones to break through.
The ones to make it possible for Lia to see what could be achieved.
And one of those players stood staring at her with a jutted jaw.
“Exactly,” Erin said. “‘Kelly’ or ‘Smith’ doesn’t have the same ring to it.
Enlighten me, though—if you’re going to act so high and mighty, who would your hypothetical cat be named after?
Who did you watch, week in, week out, wishing you could be like them?
Who did you watch lift the biggest trophy in the club game—and if you think that’s anything other than the Champions League, you’re wrong—and dream that one day, that would be you? ”
“Um.” Lia didn’t want to answer that question. Not honestly. Because Erin was already a gigantic egomaniac, and Lia didn’t want to give her any more ammunition.
But Erin seemed to take her hesitation as some kind of bizarre win. “See? You can’t name one. And you have no excuse—we’ve been televised since you were young.”
It was a taunt, the aim to rile Lia, but goddamn her, it worked. “I can name one.” She ducked her head, focusing on Gerrard’s brown eyes, blinking at Lia from between Erin’s legs. “My hypothetical cat would be called Finch, okay?”
“Bullshit.” Erin scoffed. “You know, if you’re trying to win me over, lying won’t do it.”
“It’s not a lie.” Hands clenched into fists by her side, Lia raised her head. “The first time I ever watched women’s football on the TV was the 2012 Olympics.”
“We didn’t make it past the quarter-finals.”
“No. But I saw the first group game. You scored two goals like it was nothing. You were so quick and so good, and you were nineteen—the youngest player in the squad. I kept watching to see you play. Men’s football was all I’d ever known until then.
My stepfather and stepbrother were obsessed with it, but they said it wasn’t for women.
That I couldn’t play, I could only watch.
Seeing you and the others on that pitch, playing so well…
that changed things for me. Whether you want to believe it or not.
” As Lia spoke, she kept her gaze on Erin’s face.
The woman’s visible annoyance softened, the tension in her shoulders seeping away. “I didn’t know that.”
“How would you? You’ve barely spoken to me.”
“Yes, well, try not to take it personally.” Erin bent to pick up Gerrard, who melted into her arms with a satisfied meow. “So, you ready for the weekend?”
Saturday marked Albion’s Super League season opener against Everton, and Lia couldn’t wait. She was the best version of herself when she was on the pitch, and it had been months since her last competitive game of football. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Erin shrugged. “First-game jitters.”
“Surprised you care.”
“Of course I care.” Erin looked affronted. “I want us to win, and we need goals to make that happen.”
“Even if they’re mine?”
Tilting her head, Erin pursed her lips. “Well, it makes your signing worth it, doesn’t it?” With that, Erin turned and headed back toward the stairwell, leaving Lia staring after her, unable to believe what had happened.
She hadn’t realised Erin was capable of having a civil conversation.
At least not with her.
* * *
“And, finally,” the announcer at Salford Albion Stadium bellowed, voice carrying around the stands, “please welcome your new number thirteen—Lia Ashcroft!”
All around Erin, the crowd erupted into rapturous applause as Lia walked onto the pitch to join the rest of the Albion players. She took Erin’s place at the end of the line, her smile seeming somewhat forced as she glanced around the stadium and took it all in.
Beside Erin, Maisie clapped hard. She was excited to watch Lia play. Over the last month, she had asked about her more times than Erin could count, seemingly disappointed when her aunt couldn’t tell her much about Albion’s exciting new signing.
Watching the team take their places on the pitch, Erin clenched her hands into fists and shoved them into the deep pockets of her hoodie. Sitting in the stands for the two friendlies hadn’t lessened the ache she had to be out there with them.
Part of her wished she’d stayed at home. With being out injured so long, she wasn’t obliged to attend every game, but Maisie had asked if they could go, and Erin had never been good at saying no to her.
Plus, it wasn’t often they got to watch an Albion game together. Maisie came to as many as Jessica could bring her to, of course, giving Erin a running commentary of how she’d played once the game was done, but this was different.
“Are you okay, Auntie Erin?” Big green eyes gazed at Erin as Lia kicked the game off.
It was Erin’s turn to force a smile. “Yeah, honey. Don’t worry about me.”
“Mum said you might not want to come today.”
“Your mum should know that I wouldn’t pass up the chance to hang out with my favourite niece.”
“I’m your only niece!” Maisie giggled and reached for a handful of sweets from the bag stuffed into her coat pocket. “What do you think the score will be?”
Albion’s opponents had finished in the bottom half of the table the previous season, though that didn’t necessarily mean it would be an easy ride.
A lot of things could change over the summer, with players coming in and players leaving, as well as changes behind the scenes. Still, she had to back her team. “3-0.”
“Do you think Lia will score?”
Erin glanced toward the pitch. Everton were playing a high defensive line, leaving acres of space behind them. If Erin were on the pitch, she’d wait for a picture-perfect pass from midfield to run onto and slot home.
Which meant Lia would probably do the same.
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
When Lia had her first shot on target five minutes in—expertly pushed around the post by the goalkeeper to groans from the home support—Maisie all but melted back into her seat. “She’s so good. I can’t believe you’ll get to play with her!”
I can’t believe it, either. But Erin couldn’t deny it—Lia was at home on the pitch. Her movements were quick and sharp, and her passes pinpoint. Begrudgingly, Erin had to respect the start she’d made. How effortless she made everything look.
If she could play like this now, in the first game of the season, what would she be like by the end?
A frightening prospect.
The crowd sucked in a breath when Shanice’s pass from the halfway line split the Everton defence. Lia raced onto the end of it, easily outpacing the nearest defender. It left her one-on-one with the goalkeeper, and this time, Lia didn’t miss.
She slotted it into the far corner of the goal, raising her fist in celebration as the fans went wild, the other Albion players surrounding her in a group hug.
Erin glanced at the clock in the corner of the stand. A mere twenty minutes was all it had taken for Lia to score her first Albion goal on her debut.
It had taken Erin thirty.
One of Erin’s records gone already. How long would it take for more to start to fall?
* * *
“Do I know you?”