Page 158 of The Penalty

Just as I was about to close out of it, I noticed an addendum to the folder labeled children marked confidential.

I glanced up at Bennet. His small nod of encouragement sparked my curiosity.

I opened the file.

My jaw dropped.

No fucking way.

Xavier

The great thing about being a national sports hero was people tend to forget any bad press or salacious rumors. In the days following the match, I had dozens of interviews scheduled to talk about our result against the Netherlands. Everyone wanted to hear about the penalty I’d saved.

My face was pretty much on every major sports broadcast across England. Not one reporter mentioned last season’s suspension or the game I missed due to “illness.”

And yet, with all this attention and adoration, my soul felt as empty as the glass in my hand. Never thought I’d see the day when public praise failed to satisfy my need to feel wanted.

Setting the glass on the table, I grabbed the bottle of whisky and downed it.

It’s been over a week since I fell apart in front of Victoria. Not quite how I’d planned for the video call to go. I went into it just wanting to hear her voice and look into her mesmerizing eyes.

Telling her what I’d overheard as a child sort of just…came out. I was so emotionally shattered from confiding in Victoria that I refused to tell Dr. Frances what happened at my last session. I only told him I’d opened up to her about something painful.

He was less than pleased with all my deflections but did commend me for doing the whole really feeling it thing like he’d asked.

Every inch of me ached from missing her.

I’m not due back for training until next week. Part of me longed to get on a plane and spend the next five days in Manhattan with her. But I know she’s traveling for work. The Legends have away games in Los Angeles and Houston before coming to London.

She can’t get here fast enough. I might never let her leave when she does.

Competing in the qualifier was the only thing that kept me sane and focused.

Now?

I lifted the bottle to my lips and swallowed. The amber liquid didn’t even fucking burn anymore.

What did burn, and never seemed to stop, was the skin beneath my ear where she’d kissed me. Victoria always liked kissing me there. The phantom flames from her lips lingered day and night.

She marked me.

Searing heat bloomed on my skin. I ran my fingers down the side of my neck, an idea taking shape. For the first time in weeks, I felt at peace.

Someone knocked at my door.

“Christ,” I muttered, not moving. So much for my peace.

Another insistent knock, followed by a shouted, “Xavier.”

My spine stiffened at the sound of Adam’s voice.

Two seconds later, I opened the door in frustration. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“You smell like a distillery.” My stepbrother scowled, waving a hand in front of his face. The guy standing behind him stared at me.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“This is how you greet your guests?” Adam’s eyebrow arched. “Charming.”

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