Page 86 of We'll Meet Again

“Don’t fuck with me!” Ethan warned through clenched teeth.

Peter reared his head back like he was going to ram it right into Ethan’s, but finally, Jordan got his arms around Peter’s chest and dragged him away, despite the way Peter railed against him. Rachel stood in front of Ethan, jockeying him toward the touchline, with assists from Hector and Israel, who were on either side of Ethan and pulling him along by his arms.

“Hey!” she screamed. “Get back!”

Coach Warren was suddenly there, trying to bargain with her, but it was too late.

“I’m sorry, Coach, but they’ve both got to leave the pitch,” she said. “Both of them threw punches, they’ll both be booked with a red.”

Coach turned furious eyes on Ethan, and only then did Ethan feel some guilt about what he’d done. The gravity of his actions were like sudden sacks of bricks strapped to his shoulders. The team was down to nine men with him and Peter being sent off. This match would take a miracle to win now.

“Coach, I -” Ethan began, but Coach Warren cut him off.

“Get to the dressing room,” he snapped. His eyes found Peter, who was being pulled away from Rachel by Jordan, who had to practically throw him over the touchline. “Both of you.”

With one last glower at Rachel, Jordan, and then at Ethan, Peter stormed inside. Ethan hung his head and followed.

Peter immediately went to the physio’s, no doubt to get his nose reset, but Ethan sank down onto the bench in front of his locker, hands shaking from the shame of what he had done. He looked at his knuckles, purple bruises already blooming across his skin, and then held his head in his hands, cursing himself for letting Peter get to him, for allowing his anger to control him. He was fully prepared for the chewing out Coach Warren would have for him.

Only, it didn’t come. At half time, Coach Warren resolutely ignored both Peter and Ethan, and went over tactics with the team. They couldn’t sub in for anyone sent off with a red, so he moved Luka up to the midfield and Hector up to the front with Devon. Somehow, that made Ethan feel worse. If he just got yelled at and told what an idiot he was, maybe he could move on. But the message came through loud and clear: if you can’t act like a member of the team, you won’t be treated like one.

The fifteen minutes passed in a blur. Peter huffed around as he got showered, changed, and prepared to leave, but even when the second half started, Ethan was still on the bench as if he were nailed to it. The sound of high heels clicking in the doorway made him finally look up.

“Billie,” he said, just barely managing her name with the rust in his voice.

“Hey,” she replied gently, and started to come inside.

“You can’t be in here during a match,” Peter said, and she froze.

Ethan shot him a sour look, and then faced his girlfriend. “Come on in, darlin’.”

Her eyes bounced between them a moment as if she feared she may get them going at it all over again, but Ethan’s pleading eyes must have convinced her to go his way. She started toward him.

“Whatever,” Peter scoffed. “Fuck you, cowboy.”

With that, he was gone. Ethan looked up at Billie as she stood before him, her eyes shining with sympathy.

“What happened?” she asked.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I messed up.”

Setting her purse aside, she climbed into his lap, her legs on either side of his hips, facing him, and cradling his face in her hands. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter, I shouldn’t have -”

“Ethan,” she cut across him. “What did he say?”

His eyes welled up and he buried his face in her neck. Letting out a sob, he told her exactly what he remembered. She held him close, her arms like pillars holding him upright as he felt himself crumbling.

“I really messed up, darlin’,” he choked out when he finished. “This was my chance to show what I’m capable of to a club that means so much to me, and I let something stupid -”

“It wasn’t stupid,” she said, running her gentle fingers through his hair. “What Peter said was totally unacceptable, and I hope you explain everything to Coach Warren when he asks you about it.”

“I should have been better,” he insisted. “I ain’t had a red card since I was six.”

She blinked. “Good Lord, really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I still got in fights, but those were at the trailer park, not on the pitch.”

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