Page 87 of We'll Meet Again

“Well, every streak must come to an end at some point,” she joked, and he attempted a laugh, but it came out as more of a huff. “Seriously, though. No one should tolerate the things Peter’s said to you. I’m surprised you held out this long.”

“Fine timing, isn’t it?” he said bitterly.

She took his chin and tilted his head to meet her gaze. It struck him how beautiful she was all over again. If nothing else, he was lucky to have her.

“Listen to me,” she said. “One mistake does not erase an entire career of incredible work. If Chelsea are interested in you, I don’t think this will dissuade them.”

“I’m not so sure.”

He was fairly confident he blew it. Behavior like that was not the impression he wanted to leave with anyone - not Stanmore or Chelsea or any of the little kids in the stands that looked up to him. Coach Larry’s words rang in his ear again -Let your talent speak for itself, and they won’t have anything left to say. He certainly let that fall to the wayside.

Billie pulled him in close again. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”

He didn’t answer, instead closing his eyes and resting his forehead on her shoulder. Suddenly, the room around him was shifting, and he was having another moment like the ones he’d described to Betty. The loss he felt was heavier than a match, it was more like…death. Memories swam before him that were definitely not his own - the muddy countryside of France, a deep trench, shouting over the din of gunfire, and a body lying in the dirt. Then he was in Billie’s arms, but she looked different - she was in a dress, her hair was out of her face and in victory rolls. She whispered consolations in his ear, telling him his friends were heroes.

“Ethan?”

The present-day Billie came back into focus. Ethan took a deep breath to steady himself, but his chest heaved like he’d run a marathon. He got missile lock on Billie’s face, needing her to keep him grounded.

“I…I saw something,” he told her.

She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

His grip on her hips tightened. “I…I don’t know, I can’t explain it, but…” He paused to swallow. “Billie, sometimes, when we’re together, I -”

The ringtone of his phone cut him off. He wanted to ignore it and address the odd look in her eyes. He expected her to be confused and look at him like he was speaking another language, but that wasn’t what he saw. Her brows were relaxed, her eyes expectant, and her mouth was neutral - no quizzical frown or anything.

“You…” she said, surprising him with the breathlessness of her voice. “You should answer that.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, debating pressing the issue, but the phone kept ringing. He wondered if it was possible for it to get louder without actually adjusting the volume. It sounded that way. Holding her steady, he reached back and snatched his phone off the shelf in his locker, biting back a sigh when he saw the name - Martin. He answered anyway.

“Hey,” he said.

“Ethan, are you serious?” his agent said incredulously. “You’re throwing punches now?”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said. “Things got heated.”

“Clearly!”

Martin continued, but Ethan hardly heard the rest. He was entirely preoccupied with Billie, who was avoiding his gaze. By the time he hung up, she was back to normal, already offering more words of encouragement about what he could say to Coach Warren. Ethan wanted to go back to what he’d seen - everything he’d been seeing since he met her - but the moment was gone. He could only hope it would come up again soon.

Chapter 24

“Ah,Ethan,”CoachWarrensaid upon opening the door to his office. “Come on in.”

Ethan nodded and stepped over the threshold, the chatter in the locker room dying down as Coach closed the door behind him. The office was pretty standard for a manager at this level - a white board in the corner with different tactics drawn out, a calendar on the wall with the month’s matches marked, a bookshelf with biographies of the legends of the sport as well as a few about the game itself. Only on the desk did Coach have any personal items - school pictures of his two children. The boys resembled their father in complexion, but had darker hair and leaner frames. They couldn’t have been older than nine and eleven. Ethan looked away and met Coach Warren’s gaze.

“So,” Coach began and took a seat. “Why don’t you give me your account of what happened at the match against Chelsea?”

Ethan followed suit, sitting in a chair across the desk. “I’ll start with an apology. I know it was unprofessional and I cost us the match. I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Apology accepted. But I know you well enough now to understand how out of character that was. So tell me. What happened?”

Ethan thought that was pretty graceful considering that loss had put the nail in the coffin of their Champions League hopes. Their loss, plus the results around the league, put Stanmore into seventh place. There was time to come back, but getting to the top four was…unlikely, to say the least.

He took a deep breath. “He insulted my mother, sir. He pushed Rachel and then he spoke…disrespectfully about my upbringing.”

He told the story in full. It was easier now that he’d told it once to Billie, though his stomach still churned when he recalled Peter’s specific words. Saying them out loud made him feel like he was choking. It was unpleasant, but he got through it.

---