Page 89 of We'll Meet Again

Ethan scrambled to find the words, his brain still recovering from the storm Coach had dusted up. “I…yes, Coach.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now get dressed and I’ll see you on the pitch.”

Coach’s threat must have been as effective on Peter as it was on Ethan. The following week, Peter ignored Ethan rather than instigating confrontations, and Ethan matched that energy. He would take a cold shoulder over a snide comment any day. And if they carried on this way, they would both get what they wanted - a spot in the starting eleven against Liverpool in the FA Cup final.At least we have that in common, Ethan told himself. With a common goal, hopefully the cooperation that Coach Warren was looking for would follow.

After training, Ethan left the dressing room and headed upstairs to retrieve Billie. Their walks home together gave him more comfort now with the prospect of missing a match looming ahead of him that weekend. He wanted her at his side constantly. However, the concern about what happened - or rather, didn’t happen - after the fight at the Chelsea match, still haunted him.

Each time he thought he got the courage to ask her if she had been struggling with these visions as much as he was, he convinced himself he read too much into her expression in the locker room. He was emotional, tired, and worried about a million other things. He’d just had one of the visions, it was possible he was misremembering the look on her face as well. On the other hand, his curiosity was rapping on the back door of his mind like a nosy neighbor. What if she was going through that and was too scared to tell him? Would it be helpful if he ripped off the metaphorical bandaid?

Then he thought - what if she isn’t experiencing that? Would she think he was crazy? Would it scare her off? The last thing he needed was to lose Billie at a time like this. It seemed especially imperative when she stood up from her desk and flashed him that stunning smile of hers.

“Hello, darling,” she said, and planted a sweet kiss on his cheek. “How was training?”

“Okay,” he told her. “Kinda weird playing second team, but hopefully next week, things will be back to normal.”

“I’m sure they will be. Peter behaving himself?”

“For now, thank goodness. He must want to be in that final as bad as I do.”

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’d think Father Christmas told you he’d put you both on the naughty list this year.”

“Woah, darlin’. Have you ever been on the naughty list? Because it’s no fun. I declare, there is no worse feeling.”

She giggled. “I seriously doubtyouwere ever on the naughty list.”

“I was, once,” he joked. “For fighting. And I’d venture a guess that good ol’ Saint Nick has slapped my name right back on there as a repeat offender.”

“Well, I hope you’ve resigned yourself to it,” she said. “Because when we get back to yours, I intend on the two of us engaging in further naughtiness.”

He pulled her into his arms. “That so?”

She nodded, a mischievous smile parting her lips. “Several times, in fact.”

“For that, I’ll gladly get coal in my stocking.”

He claimed her mouth with his own, and her arms coiled around his neck. When she pulled away, he held back a groan.

“Just give me one moment to get my things,” she said.

He nodded, releasing her. While she gathered up her purse and jacket, Ethan glanced at his phone; he’d just gotten an email from Martin with the subject line “New Offers?” Brow furrowed he began to read.

Hey Ethan.Just checking in to see if any other clubs have reached out to you directly? I’ve got radio silence over here, and I’m not too happy about it. Recent events excluded, you’ve had an incredible season and there should be some interest. I know the summer transfer window is still a way’s off, but it’s really never too early. I’ll put some feelers out on my end.

Martin

PS - are you interested in other clubs besides Chelsea? Man City, perhaps? Or maybe somewhere other than England? Let me know.

Ethan read over the email again, his mouth turning down.

“Something wrong?” Billie asked.

“I dunno,” he said. “My agent just asked me if I’ve gotten any interest from other clubs.”

“A bit early, isn’t it?” she said. “There’s still loads of time before the transfer window.”

He shook his head. “No, something’s weird. He’s never…consulted me on the process before. If he’s worried, there’s a reason.” He sighed and lowered his phone. “I must have really messed up with that fight.”

“That can’t possibly be it,” she said firmly, tucking her finger beneath his chin and turning his face toward hers. “Most athletes get into a fight or two in their career.”