Page 95 of We'll Meet Again

“Okay,” he said. “I, uh, spoke to Mrs. Lowe - Coach Larry’s wife - and she told me -” he stopped short, swallowing. “She told me he saw me lift that trophy. It was just after that he took his last breath. And she assured me he went peacefully.”

Her eyes watered right along with his. The days following the FA Cup final were brutal - Ethan had gone numb, until he wasn’t, and then he cried for almost an entire night. Billie had never felt so helpless. He swore up and down that just being with him was all he needed, but she wanted to do more, so she booked his flight for him, and she was the one who suggested he take some extra time to reconnect with his roots.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him for what was probably the thousandth time that week.

“I’ll be alright,” he replied.

“I really wish I’d gotten that cake right.”

“You want me to eat it?” he said earnestly. “Because I will if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t you dare. It smells dreadful enough in here without adding sick to the mix.” He chuckled as she rested her head on his chest. “Besides, I’m supposed to be making you feel better, not the other way around.”

“Well, this’ll do just fine,” he said. “I got everything I’ll ever need right here in my arms.”

She closed her eyes and hummed contentedly. A beat passed as they rested a moment together.

“Billie.”

“Yes?”

“Come with me.”

Her eyes snapped open. She pulled away to look at him. “What?”

His pleading gaze made her heart constrict. “Come home with me. I’d…I really need you at the funeral.”

“Oh, blimey, I…” she trailed off. “I’m sorry, Ethan, I can’t. You leave tomorrow and it’s far too last minute for me to get off work and -”

“It’s not for a couple days,” he said. “You can fly over later. As long as you make it by Saturday, you’ll be fine.”

“Well, there’s also the transfer window opening up and they’re really going to need me at the club.”

“It doesn’t officially open for another two weeks.”

“There’s a ton of prep work involved and -”

“Billie.” His soft expression had hardened as hurt seeped behind his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me why youreallydon’t want to go?”

Panic sank its sharp teeth into her heart. “I just…I don’t know, Ethan, don’t you think it’s a bit…I dunno, odd? I never knew your coach, I don’t want to just show up to his funeral unannounced.”

“You’re my girlfriend, nobody would care,” he said.

“I would!” she insisted. “Besides, we haven’t been together very long. Isn’t it a bit soon to be doing things like this together?”

His brow furrowed. “Heck no.”

“Well, I do. I mean, this is a family moment. I know you weren’t actually related, but -”

“No, I know what you mean.”

“Good. Because what happens if you and I break up? The memory of that funeral would be forever tainted by my presence.”

His arms fell from around her as he took a step back. At the look on his face, she wished she could snatch words out of the air and stuff them back down her throat. His downturned mouth and wounded gaze told her she’d said exactly the wrong thing. But he asked her to be honest, and she had been.

“Are we breaking up?” he asked, rust in his voice.

“No,” she said, wondering when that lump had appeared in her throat. “I was just saying, y’know, hypothetically.”

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