Page 93 of We'll Meet Again
“So there’s really no need to speak to him about it.”
“Hold on, that’s not what I -”
“You’ve been immensely helpful, Tessa, thank you,” Billie cut across her and stood up to take Tessa - still protesting - into a hug. “So glad we had this chat.” She kissed the top of Tessa’s head, muffling her grumbles. “Love you, goodnight!”
She sailed out of the kitchen, ignoring Tessa’s last ditch cry of “Billie!” as she made her way back to her bedroom.
After ninety minutes, two fifteen minute halves of extra time, and stoppage time at the end of each half, Ethan’s legs were on fire as he lined up for the penalty shootout. Regular time ended in a 2-2 draw, and neither side scored during extra time, so here they were, everyone exhausted and out of breath, but still determined. A hush fell over Wembley as the first Liverpool player stepped up to take his penalty shot. Ethan held his breath - a pretty remarkable feat considering how hard he was panting. Luka’s hand squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. Israel’s jaw tightened. All of them willing Jordan to block this shot.
He didn’t.
One half of the stadium cheered and the other groaned.
The Liverpool goalkeeper took Jordan’s place and Peter moved up to take the first penalty kick for Stanmore. For the first time ever, Ethan wanted only good things for Peter. They had actually collaborated on the equalizer in the second half of regular time, Ethan making the cross, and sending the defenders toward Peter. Peter took a shot, but it bounced off the back of one of the Liverpool players, so Ethan headed it back into the goal. They nodded at each other in acknowledgement before their teammates came over to celebrate.
This time, Peter’s shot went into the back of the net. Ethan pumped his fist in the air, and offered his hand for a high five as Peter jogged to the back of the line. Incredibly, Peter clapped his hand like a real teammate.
Jordan was unable to block the next Liverpool kick too. Luckily, Hector sank his shot into the net, keeping Stanmore’s hopes alive. Back and forth it went, until both teams had secured four penalty shots apiece. Liverpool’s fifth man lined up in front of Jordan, who quickly wiped the sweat from his brow. The ball sailed off the boots of the Liverpool player and right into… Jordan’s gloves! He pulled the ball into his chest, landing hard on his side. The Stanmore supporters roared, and Ethan let out a breath.
Now it was down to him.
“You got this,” Luka said, thumping his fist into Ethan’s chest encouragingly.
Jordan came over and pressed his forehead to Ethan’s. “Bring it home, Knight.”
Ethan swallowed and nodded. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
“You could do this in your sleep, Ethan!” Hector called from somewhere down the line.
The rest of the team murmured their agreement. Ethan knew he was capable. He made shots like these, and many more difficult, every day in training. But in training, he never felt like he had anvils strapped to his shoulders. This was different. The FA Cup, potentially Stanmore’s first, was up to him.
He stepped up to the ball. His heart pounded. His tired muscles tensed. He wasn’t sure if the sound was coming from the crowd or the blood rushing in his ears. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his mouth, drowning everything out. He fixed his gaze solely on the ball, letting Wembley fade away - jeers and cheers alike. It was just him, the ball, and the goalkeeper.
He surged forward, planted his left foot firmly, and let his right foot swing back. He struck the ball with his laces, sending it rocketing right past the goalkeeper, who dove in the right direction, but he wasn’t quick enough. The ball brushed his fingers and swished into the top of the net.
Ethan’s shout of triumph was drowned out by the deafening din of the Wembley crowd. His teammates engulfed him, their native languages mixing with English, all screaming that the victory was theirs. The tightness in Ethan’s chest released. He blinked back the sudden mist in his eyes. His legs wobbled, but luckily, Jordan was there, gathering him up in a hug and holding him upright.
“You fucking did it!” Jordan cried, pounding Ethan’s back. “You really fucking did it!”
Ethan let out a shaky laugh. When Jordan let go, he stepped aside, revealing Peter, who looked - along with thrilled - a bit sheepish. He extended his hand. Ethan, with a grin, shook it.
“Well done,” Peter said. “Cowboy.”
“You too,” Ethan chuckled.
He still couldn’t quite bring himself to hug Peter, but luckily, it didn’t seem like Peter was there either. He let go of Ethan’s hand and went to embrace Devon. Hector and Artem leapt on Ethan next, ruffling his hair as they congratulated him. Ethan’s face flushed a little under all the praise, but clearly he didn’t need to remind them that Jordan’s save was what made Ethan’s shot count. Israel was on Jordan’s back, whooping and declaring the goalkeeper “The Scottish Wall,” Fernando chanting his agreement.
Ethan made his way over to the Liverpool player whose shot had been blocked. He was crouching in his spot on the pitch, his head in his hands. Ethan knelt in front of him, touching his shoulder to let him know he was there.
“Hey,” Ethan said gently. “Y’all played one heck of a game. Don’t beat yourself up.”
He shook his head and chewed his lip. “Yeah…thanks, mate.”
Ethan patted his shoulder and stood back up to join his team again.
The ceremonies passed in a blur, but Ethan committed to memory receiving his medal from Prince William and the moment he and Jordan got to lift the trophy. Confetti burst from the cannons behind them. The crowd continued with thunderous cheers. The flash of cameras was so rapid, he wasn’t quite sure where to look. At this point, all he wanted was to share this moment with Billie.
She arrived with the rest of friends and family. Larysa gently carried her newborn son over to Artem and shared a kiss with her husband. Nadia flew into Osahar’s arms and he spun her around before kissing her sweetly. Astrid did the same with Fernando. Billie, however, had tears in her eyes and a frown on her lips. Ethan’s brow furrowed.