Page 5 of Always on My Mind

After that fateful press conference, Tessa sought Jamie out in the parking lot to ask a few follow-up questions. One of which included an invitation for a drink, and the rest was history. They had a whole year of bliss, of finding a home in one another, before Jamie fell back on her fears, and Tessa had enough. Jamie lost the only real relationship she’d ever had, the only woman she’d ever loved.

In her reminiscing, Jamie realized poor Ben had asked her a question, and was looking at her with an expectant stare. She cleared her throat. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

“I said, are you ready to give a reason for leaving Manchester City before your contract was up?”

“Oh, um. . . ” she trailed off, trying to rid her mind of memories of Tessa in order to come up with a lie. “It’s nothing personal. I had a great run at City. But I was ready for something different. A challenge.”

“Is that why you went to Stanmore instead of returning to Arsenal?”

“Yes, partly. Arsenal will always be close to my heart, but they didn’t ask me to return. And as I said, I wanted something different.”

“And what does your father think of that choice?”

She took a moment to quiet her racing heart. She knew the question was coming. Her father, the Arsenal legend, had been her biggest cheerleader the whole time she was with the club. He was also her harshest critic. From the time she was a child, he was harder on her than she was on herself. Eventually, her inner voice was not her own—it was Dexter Hupp, shouting at her to run faster, pass better, shoot sooner.

She swallowed, fighting the dryness in her throat. “You know. . . we haven’t spoken much about it. I’m sure he’s. . . disappointed that I’m with a London club that’s not the Gunners, but I’m sure he’ll understand. Football is a business, after all.”

Another journalist stood up, older than Ben, with gray throughout his ponytail and horn-rimmed glasses that he slid up his nose as he got to his feet. Jamie knew who he was before he said it. “Myles Dantana,Dantana Sports Report.”

Jamie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.Fucking Myles. He constantly criticized women’s football, but instead of focusing onthe men, he brought up women’s sports for the sole purpose of dragging the athletes through the mud. Which he didn’t have to do since he worked for himself. No one was forcing him to cover it. He once said on his podcast that Jamie “rode the coattails of her father’s success and maintained relevance by having a great arse.” Her father called her fuming and demanded she wear looser shorts on the pitch.

“D’you think if Arsenal knew you were going to ditch Man City, they might have reached out? Or perhaps they’re still sore about your premature departure from them as well?”

She steeled herself, rolling her shoulders back. “My contract with Arsenal was already up, so I didn’t leave them prematurely. If they needed midfielders, they might have shown some interest, but as we all know, they have a strong line up as is.”

He opened his mouth to ask another question, but thankfully, another reporter got to her feet. Jamie could turn her head and ignore him. This reporter was another Jamie was familiar with, so she addressed her by name.

“Yes, Judy?” she asked.

Judy smiled. “You’ve made a career playing for clubs with winning records. And you’ve made a name for yourself internationally each time you’ve been called up for England. I suppose the question on everyone’s mind is—why Stanmore? They’re newly promoted with a team that analysts are already predicting will be relegated again at the end of the season. What draws you to that story?”

Jamie knew she couldn’t say, “That club puts me closer to my ex-girlfriend, and I’d move heaven and earth to get a glimpse of her, especially now.” So she took another deep breath.

“I. . . ” she trailed off. “I suppose every athlete questions their own success. There’s this nagging feeling when you’re with a winning club that makes you wonder—is it me? Am I actually good? Or am I just part of a group that’s good enough to carryme? Stanmore are back in the WSL for the first time in ages. And while I know that I can’t bring them up myself—it’s a team effort—I want to know if I’m good no matter where my club sits on the table.” She paused for a beat. “And maybe. . . all together, we can find out if we’re great.”

Judy raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile turning the corners of her mouth up. Then she scribbled down the rest of the quote.

“Jamie—” Myles began, but she cut him off.

“No more questions. See you all on the pitch.”

Jamie walked home, needing to work off the press room. She’d found a new row house, closer to the Hive, that would suit her needs for now. She came around the corner and spotted a figure sitting on her front steps. She halted. The figure rose, and she recognized the silhouette immediately.

“Dad?”

Dexter Hupp turned his dark head and speared Jamie with an icy glare that turned her stomach. She gulped, but proceeded onward. There was no avoiding him now.

“What the fuck, Jamie?” he barked. “Stanmore? When you might have gone to any of the top clubs?”

She bit back a sigh and climbed the stairs to open the door. Inside, her bags had been carefully placed. Her father followed her over the threshold, slamming the door behind him. She knew better than to flinch these days. She went to the kitchen, desperate for some water, but remembered it hadn’t been stocked yet. She would have to face him unhydrated.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, turning around, but keeping her gaze toward the floor. Meeting her father’s furious eyes—deep blue eyes that she inherited from him—would only make her legs wobbly. “I should have told you about my plans, but I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“You’ve got that right,” he shot back. “Why d’you want to leave City in the first place, huh? You’ve been brilliant there. I thought you liked it.”

“I did! I just. . . ” she trailed off. How could she explain? It wasn’t something her father would understand. Every time she thought of that club now, the memories of what happened there made her skin crawl. “I don’t think their style suited me.”

“Is that a fucking joke?”

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