Page 54 of Count On Me

“Nah that’s what got you in the shit in the first place.” Antony plays with the sunflower pin on his lapel and I smile because I know he wears that for his girl.

“You fixed it all with Little Red?” Lockheart asks and I nod my head. “Good, I was this close to stepping in, but it seems Jordan did it for me.”

I roll my eyes at him and throw my arm over Marcello’s shoulders. “Have I ever told youyou’remy favorite player on this team?”

With our laughter ringing around us, my nerves are at ease as I slip into the comfortable surroundings of being with my team. Once we’re changed and ready for training, Coach comes into the locker room, and from the look on his face, he isn’t happy.

“Team, sit down, shut the fuck up and listen, or I’ll have you running till you’re sick. And I’ll happily sell the pictures to the fucking press myself.” A silence like no other takes over the room and I sit next to Lockheart, whose leg is bouncing furiously.

“I wanted you to hear it directly from me. Jordan’s been suspended from the team for the foreseeable future. We all know what's happened these past couple of weeks,” Coach looks pointedly at me and I let my head drop so I don’t have to meet his eyes. “Some of us took that time away to reflect and become better teammates.” I bring my head up and lock my eyes with his steely grey ones, nodding my head solemnly.

“Jordan,” he continues, “had other ideas. He decided that partying, chasing girls, and drugs were more important than his career and failed a random at home drug test. As a result, he’s no longer part of my team. I know this goes without saying, but I’m gonna say it anyway, this information does not leave this locker room. No talking to the press about this.” He makes eye contact with each and every player in the room, finally nodding and adding, “Right, outside, warm ups. Go!”

I look to Lockheart, his perpetual frown moulded even more on his face. Marcello and Bennett are deep in discussion as they lead the way out of the locker room.

“Jax, a word, please,” Coach calls out and I stop in my tracks.

“Coach, I’m so sorry about everything. I should never?—”

He brings his hand up in front of my face and silences me. “I didn’t call you back to go over it all again. I know you’re sorry. I knew you were sorry the day after it happened. Jordan isn’t your fault. He isn’t your responsibility either. I know you live in the same building as him. Maybe it’s time to move. Sometimes you can get tarred with the same brush, if you get my drift?”

I nod my head and blow out a relieved breath. How did he know I felt guilty over Jordan? Like it was all my fault? I saw the way he partied, he went hard all the time, but I never expected he was doing drugs. I encouraged him by going along with the drinking and partying when I should've told him to slow down. And if I hadn't lashed out at him over Eddie, he’d still have his dream job. Fuck.

“Get those thoughts out of your head, newbie. It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t his keeper. This isn’t on you. He chose to put the drugs in his body, not you.”

“But Coach, if he hadn’t been suspended…” I argue, but I’m cut off again.

“It would’ve been worse. Cocaine isn’t a joking matter. He’d have performed like shit and dragged his team down with him. The team, who worked their arses off, would've all been guilty by association. Every one of them classed as junkies if word got out that he was playing while high. Their hard work would’ve been for nothing. You’re not responsible for Jordan putting that crap in his body, no one is but him. Let rehab deal with him now. Hopefully he can sort himself out and the ban won’t be for too long. Now go and train.”

I’m dismissed and I walk away, unable to shake the feeling that I fucked up massively somewhere along the line.

34

EDIE

“Are you sure this looks okay?” I spin in front of the mirror and check the back of my black dress as Angie flops back onto my bed and groans loudly. I’m nervous. It’s not every day you go out to dinner with your very hot, professional footballer boyfriend and his teammate and stunningly gorgeous fiancée. They all look good enough to grace the covers of magazines, and I’m just an everyday girl trying to fit in.

“YES! You look bloody amazing. And your dress has pockets. It’s a fabulous dress and you need to stop dancing in front of the mirror and let me do your fricking hair before you make me late for my date.”

I grin at her mischievously. “Your date with the clean-shaven Albie, who looks like you’ll eat him alive?” She throws a pillow at me and I screech as it narrowly misses my head.

“I’m not doing your hair now. Take that!” She jumps off the bed and heads toward the door. I know she’s not serious—she’d never leave me to manage these curls on my own—but even though I know this, I still panic.

Jumping in front of her, I stand with my back against the wood and look her in the eyes. “If you don’t do my hair, I willphone you every fifteen minutes of your date to make sure you’re disturbed constantly.” I narrow my eyes at her so she knows I mean business, but instead of looking worried, she laughs.

“I’ll switch my phone off,” she answers cockily.

I frown and tap my chin with my finger. “Ha! I’ll phone the restaurant and tell the maître d’ that you need to leave as you’ve just tested positive for a highly contagious strain of gonorrhoea and need a dose of strong antibiotics to help rid you of it.” I smirk in victory as her eyes widen in horror.

“Shit! You’ve lived with me for way too long. I’m impressed. Now, what do you want to do with your hair?”

I cackle and wrap my arms around her neck as she walks back into the room with me clinging to her back like a baby monkey.

“I was thinking of up?” I say as she places a chair in front of the mirror so I can see as she works.

“How about some up and some down? With little tendrils falling into your face. It’ll look cute. Trust me. And what shoes are you wearing?” She walks off to get the hair supplies and I shrug my shoulders.

“I dunno. I was thinking of the cute flat ones.”

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