Page 4 of We'll Meet Again

Scott smiled softly. “We’re really gonna miss you here, man. I know the Premier League is a huge step up, but…” he trailed off.

Ethan knew exactly what he meant. “Yeah, it was a tough call. Carolina has always been home, so…anyway, it’s a big opportunity for me.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s every young player’s dream, right?” Scott said. “But at least you got to play with the hometown team their first season, that was really cool.”

Melancholy tugged at Ethan’s heart. He was playing for Atlanta when he heard Charlotte was getting a team, and he’d immediately called his agent to work out how to get him home. It put him back within a day trip of his grandmother, which was top priority. But after the season, he got the call with the new offer, and he hardly felt he could say no to the opportunity. Not to mention the salary.

“What’s the team again?” Scott asked, drawing Ethan from his thoughts. “The one you’re going to?”

“It’s called, uh, Stanmore,” Ethan told him. “Stanmore Football Club.”

Chapter 2

“Fuck!”

Sharp pain surged all the way up Billie’s leg from her now throbbing pinky toe. She winced as she drew her foot up to cradle it, wishing she could kick that stupid box - and all the ones stacked on top of it - but feared it would only do more damage. Cursing again, she hopped around the corner to the kitchen. Her flatmate was humming to herself over the eggs she had going in the griddle, unaware of the grouchy presence behind her thanks to her large, noise-blocking headphones.

“Tessa!” Billie called.

Tessa began to sing - a rather off-key rendition of “Fly Me to the Moon” - instead of responding.

“Tessa!” Billie tried again, to no avail.

“Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and -”

Billie hobbled irritably over and snatched the headphones off her flatmate’s head. “Tessa!”

Tessa gave a start, one hand smacking against her chest and the other jumping to smooth her dirty blonde braids. Her already round brown eyes went wide like an owl’s. “Ach, Billie, you can’t just be scaring people like that first thing in the morning, have you no manners!”

“I’d have a lot more consideration for someone who didn’t leave their shit in the hall for me to stub my toe on,” Billie snapped.

“Oh, not the wee toe,” Tessa said, her expression softening with sympathy. “I am sorry, Billie, but it’s only a few more weeks.”

“Months, you mean,” Billie corrected. “Your vintage exhibition isn’t until May.”

“Well, you can’t very well have it in the dead of winter, no one would turn up,” Tessa said, as if it were obvious.

Billie refrained from voicing her doubt that anyone would come to a vintage exhibition regardless. Who would want to rummage through a bunch of dead people’s forgotten items? And yet, Tessa spent most of her free time with other people as passionate about antiques as she was. The girl had spent months collecting massive boxes from estate sales and flea markets, the spoils of which were now crowding their flat. Billie felt like the place was about to burst at the seams.

“Isn’t there anywhere else you can keep all this?” she asked.

“Like where?” Tessa flopped her eggs onto a plate.

“There are whole businesses designed for storage,” Billie said. “I shouldn’t feel like I’m spelunking every time I leave my bedroom.”

“Aye, well, I’ll look into it,” Tessa agreed. “Coffee?”

“Only if it’s as Irish as you are,” Billie groaned.

She sank into her usual chair at the breakfast nook. Now that the pain in her toe had dulled, she was feeling the rest of her body, from her pounding head to her aching heart.

“I heard Greg when he left,” Tessa said. “Slammed the door like a right heathen.”

“It got bad,” Billie said, heaving a sigh. “Awful, actually.”

“What happened?” Tessa asked.

“He told me he loved me,” Billie confessed. She ran a hand through the mess of dark hair that she hadn’t even bothered to brush through and squeezed her eyes shut as if that might rid her mind of the devastated look on Greg’s face.

---