Chapter 1
Jamie’s stomach dropped, and not because of the rocking of the car as they stopped and started through London traffic. Each time she peered out at the city, she remembered when she left, and the heartbreak that followed her.
It didn’t matter that it had been three years. The memory of Tessa sent a pang right through Jamie’s chest, so sharp and so cold, it took her breath away. It might as well have been a day ago. The hurt was still that fresh. She wondered if Tessa hurt too, or if she had moved on like she said she would. Jamie saw on social media that Tessa’s best friend and flatmate, Billie Axton, had married Chelsea striker Ethan Knight. Had Tessa also found someone to settle down with? Someone who could give her what Jamie never did?
She shook her head. It was too painful to think about.
“We’re here, Miss Hupp.”
Jamie looked up at the sound of her driver’s voice and forced her gaze back out the window. The Hive loomed large over the sidewalk. Home of the Stanmore FC Wasps, and Jamie’s new club as soon as she signed the papers awaiting her inside. Her ticket away from everything she was running from. And the one thing she was running toward. She climbed out of the car with a sigh.
The signing passed in a blur, and before she knew it, she was in the press room. Camera flashes blinded her. Journalists swarmed in like vultures on fresh roadkill. She could already hear the ringing in her ears that came with facing the press. Especially now, when they were going to ask her all the questions she had been carefully avoiding all summer. She should have prepared; she couldn’t run forever, after all. Even a football pitch ran out of grass, eventually.
The first journalist stood up—a young brunette chap who fiddled with his press pass before meeting Jamie’s eye.
“Ben Feruscho, London Pursuit ,” he said.
Jamie’s heart skipped a beat. That was the paper where Tessa worked. She could practically hear Tessa saying it that day they met, when she was briefly filling in for the sports reporter. Her thick Northern Irish accent took Jamie by surprise. Almost as much as her lack of fear behind her sweet brown eyes, despite being in a beat she had never covered before while in a room full of seasoned sports reporters. She was five foot four of pure courage. Nothing seemed to scare Tessa. And though Jamie had three inches on her, that amount of bravery often made Jamie feel small.
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 on the 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 carry me? 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?”
“Dad, I—”
“Seriously, Jamie,” he cut across her. “What’s going on?”
He folded his arms over his barrel-like chest, a thin-lipped frown on his face. She searched him for an ounce of sympathy, but found none. A question of her own came to her.
“Hold on. How’d you get my new address?” she wondered.
“From your agent,” he said with a shrug. “Never thought I’d beat you here, considering I found out about the move from said agent instead of my own daughter.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, meeker this time.
“Best start explaining yourself, then.”
She picked at her cuticles, searching for the right words. “Did you see the press conference?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s in there. I’m feeling. . . like I’m not sure if I’m good or if I’m just part of a club that’s successful because of everyone around me.”
“So. . . you’re joining a shitty club to prove yourself?”
“They’re not a shitty club, Dad—”
“Sure they are. They haven’t been in the WSL in a decade.”
“They’re back in now. That has to count for something.” She paused for a beat. “And. . . I think I was ready to come home.”
He heaved a sigh and relaxed his shoulders, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “I’m still confused. Three years ago, you said you needed to get out of London. So you turn down Arsenal’s offer to keep you and take less money to join Man City. Now, you say you want to be home? Why not go back to Arsenal?”
“They didn’t make me an offer.”
“Chelsea did. You turned them down.”
She held back a huff and inwardly cursed her agent for agreeing to run everything by her father. “That goes back to the other thing. Y’know. . . seeing if I’m good.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is this a. . . ” He gestured vaguely in front of her. “A lady thing?”
“Dad!” she cried, her face burning.
“I don’t know how else to explain all this! You keep changing your mind about everything!”
“That doesn’t mean it’s lady stuff! ”
“Are you pregnant?” he asked, the color suddenly draining from his face. “Fucking hell, Jamie, if you’ve gotten yourself—”
“I’m not pregnant!” she interrupted. “I swear!”
“Good,” he said, jutting out his chin. “Have you got a boyfriend here or something?”
“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. “I’d never switch clubs for a man.”
It wasn’t technically a lie, so she didn’t feel too bad about saying it. Truth was, she missed Tessa. And it took the actions of a man to show her how much.
“Right, well. . . that’s good too. You don’t need any distractions.”
“Men have never been a distraction for me, Dad.”
“Good.”
The air grew thick between them.
“I got you a therapist,” he said, almost to himself.
Jamie’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“I didn’t know what else to do!”
“Dad!”
“You’re acting so erratically! And while I don’t necessarily believe in therapy, at this point, I reckon it can’t hurt!”
“Are you joking? I made one decision you don’t agree with and you think I must be pregnant or having a nervous breakdown?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, Jamie. But whatever it is, it must be worked out. By signing with Stanmore, your career’s taken a hit. If speaking to someone will help, I think it’ll get you back on track for a better club.”
“I didn’t ask to speak to someone! And my career’s doing fine!”
“For now!” he bellowed, loud enough that she flinched this time. Doors she could predict, but she never knew when he would start yelling. “Actions have consequences, Jamie! And I’ve had enough of your back chat!” She shrank back as he inhaled. “Now, I’m going to get the footage from today’s press conference, and I’ll call you later to discuss it. Unless, of course, you intend on ignoring my calls again. Is that the case?”
Her shoulders sank. “No, sir.”
“Good. Your first appointment is on Thursday. I’ll speak to you later.”
He gave her no time to respond before he turned and stormed out. He slammed the door behind him and Jamie squeezed her eyes shut. Quiet settled back over the house and she sank into a dining chair. Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them back. For the rest of the evening, she asked herself if she’d made a huge mistake.