Prologue

Five months ago.

 

The door swung open, and John bounced through like he'd just won the lottery. He smiled from ear to ear, every tooth visible and gleaming.

"You need to sit down," he said, actually jumping on the spot.

Allegra stared at him, her own face breaking into a grin. How could it not? He was that excited.

"What's going on? Did you book that holiday?"

"No, better than that."

"Not sure there's anything better than that." Allegra grinned. The season had finished for them both. They had three months to do something relaxing and fun before John would be back in pre-season training, and then so would Allegra.

She sat down on the couch, and John joined her. "I've been offered a move to Bayern Munich."

"Oh my God, that's amazing!" Allegra said, understanding now why he was so excited. It was huge. A German superteam, Champions League football, a massive pay rise, and the chance to win medals.

John's grin widened even more, eyes shining with possibility.

"This is it, Allegra. Things are finally looking up for us. We can get a proper place. A house with a garden and maybe even think about kids. A real future."

Allegra nodded, trying to match his enthusiasm. She wanted to share it, to believe it, but deep down, a knot tightened in her stomach.

He meant both of them moving to Munich.

She wasn't ready for that.

There was the language barrier, the distance from home, and the idea of leaving everything she knew behind?

She had her own career, playing here, in Bath Street. She wasn't giving that up.

She forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't see the hesitation flickering in her eyes.

"It sounds incredible, John. I'm happy for you."

He reached for her hand, squeezing it.

"We'll make it work. Together."

Allegra pulled her hand back slowly, her mind already turning over the inevitable.

"John, I belong here. In Bath Street, with the Harriers. I'm contracted for two more years, and if I'm honest, I don't want to leave."

His face fell.

"But this is the big time. This is a hundred grand a week. It's…you'd be—"

"Your W.A.G.?" she interrupted with a small, bitter smile. "I'm happy for you, I really am. But if we're going to continue this—continue us—then it'll have to be long distance."

"Right. I mean, I guess we could make that work."

He was gone the following week. With so much to organise, they barely spoke. When they did, it was short, clipped. Not enough time to do anything meaningful together. He'd begged her to come out, to visit, to see what it was like, convinced that if she just saw it all, she'd want to stay.

And she'd gone.

It had been amazing, but she hadn't wanted to stay. If anything, it had shown her how different life would be and how much she would miss.

They broke things off, promising to stay friends and keep in touch.

But as Allegra flew home, she knew that wouldn't be the case. He was on the road to stardom. And she genuinely wished him all the best.

She got home, called the girls, and drank herself stupid at Art. She got so blathered she threw up in the cab on the way home.

But the bender had done what she needed. She'd let John go.

And now, she had her own life to live.

 

 

Chapter One

 

The hoodie was a mistake.

It was too warm, she now realised, with the summer sunshine that beat down on this side of the stadium.

Allegra Mann shifted sideways, trying to make the bulk of it feel less suffocating without taking it off and drawing unwanted attention to herself.

Sunglasses on. Head down. Knee braced, leg stretched out cautiously into the aisle. Long dark blonde hair tucked neatly beneath a baseball cap, hood pulled up—she hated going incognito but right now, she just wanted to watch the game like a fan, without being pestered.

She'd picked the end seat of the row for several reasons: minimal disruption, space to stretch out, and an easy escape just before the final whistle. But someone was coming up the steps, looking at the numbers and searching for a seat. There were two empty ones beside her.

"Sorry, sorry… Hi… Do you mind?" The woman smiled beneath her Bath Street Harriers baseball cap.

Allegra stood, awkwardly tucking her leg out of the way. The woman slipped past, giving off the kind of energy that apologised even when it wasn't required. She had a bobbed haircut under the hat, her hair sticking out around her ears, a Bath Street scarf that was definitely this season's, and a backpack she nearly caught Allegra with as she turned.

"Sorry, again. Thank you!" She smiled.

Allegra nodded, managed a polite, "No problem," and sat back down.

For all of six seconds.

Another figure appeared, taking the steps up two at a time, holding a takeaway coffee cup in one hand. Her eyes searched and found the woman who'd just arrived.

Sunglasses, long coat, and lipstick that made her lips look plump, kissable. Older, but good for it. She didn't wear a hat. Her hair was perfect, blonde, bobbed to the shoulder.

She looked at Allegra, offered a brief smile—not apologetic, just polite—and waited.

Allegra stood again.

This woman didn't say thank you until she was seated. And then, only as an afterthought.

"Thanks," she murmured, sliding her coat off and glancing towards the pitch. She took a tentative sip from the coffee cup and immediately made a face. "Jesus, Ros. This coffee is truly awful. Genuinely think my tongue has gone into mourning."

Ros laughed beside her. "It's not that bad."

"It's a war crime. Someone should take legal action."

Allegra sat again, quietly trying not to laugh, because she wasn't wrong.

"You alright down there?" the first woman asked, tone dry. "You've had to get up twice in under a minute. Could've charged us."

Allegra shrugged. "I'll send an invoice."

That earned her a second glance from the woman sitting beside her—brief, assessing, and then gone as she turned away.

"I'm Ros," the first woman said. Ros leant forward to look past her friend and continue speaking to Allegra. "This is Blythe," she said cheerfully. "She's new to Woodington."

"Temporarily," Blythe said. "They'll drag me back to London the moment I do something useful, I'm sure."

Her voice was warm without trying to be.

Allegra gave her a nod, even though she had no idea who they were. She smiled and said, "Welcome to the thrilling world of women's football."

Blythe gave her a look. "I'm here under duress, but needs must apparently."

Allegra didn't respond to that. She couldn't. Not with the roar that rolled across the stadium as the players emerged from the tunnel.

Her teammates.

The navy shirts with the red diagonal stripe were crisp and familiar as they jogged into position, ponytails swinging, socks pulled high. Boots hit the turf with a steady rhythm she could almost feel under her own feet, muscle memory still twitching like it hadn't got the memo.

She shifted in her seat, her knee protesting at the awkward position.

She should've been out there. She was supposed to be out there. And she would have been, except for that late tackle. Three weeks and it still felt like yesterday.

One second chasing down a ball, the next—impact. Grass. A flash of pain so white-hot it nearly knocked her out.

Now: The brace. The hoodie. The ache.

She swallowed and forced her gaze back to the pitch.

"Is someone hurt?" Blythe asked casually beside her, still squinting towards the players.

Allegra glanced over, surprised. "No, why?" Now she squinted, checking off teammates one by one. Had she missed something?

"You flinched," Blythe said. "Or winced. I don't know, I've only had one cup of tragedy-bean today. But your face definitely did something."

Allegra hesitated. She realised Blythe had been watching her, not the game. She shrugged. "Old injury."

Blythe didn't push, just nodded like she'd made a note for later.

Ros, oblivious, was already clapping along to some chant that had started behind them. She looked like she was enjoying herself. Everyone did, except Blythe.

Blythe leant back in her seat, sunglasses still on.

"So, who are we rooting for?" she asked Allegra, not Ros.

Allegra leant in slightly, offering a small smile. "Bath Street Harriers."

​

***

​

Bath Street had gone ahead.

A long corner from Ladonya Sinclair whipped into the box. Nora Brady knocked it down, and Jas Khan tapped it in from close range—the first goal of the season for the young left back.

Allegra couldn't help it. She fist pumped and cheered with the crowd, the familiar rush flooding through her veins.

But Blythe noticed—again—the brief wince that flickered across Allegra's face.

"That knee giving you trouble?" she asked.

Allegra glanced at her, surprised. "Something like that."

Blythe nodded once, as if filing the answer away again. She didn't pry, just sat back, arms folded now the coffee had been abandoned.

Ros was still clapping enthusiastically, shouting something about Jas being overdue a goal. Allegra let herself exhale, watching her teammates huddle at the corner flag.

She tried to settle back into her seat, but the ache had crept higher—dull and insistent, just under the skin.

When the second goal went in—a free kick from Brady, the ball hitting the post and bouncing back out, straight into the path of Satty Basra, who tucked it away for her fifth of the season—even Blythe jumped up with everyone else.

"What a shot," she said, almost like she knew what she was talking about.

Allegra grinned. "Starting to get it yet?"

"I'm not going to be buying a season ticket anytime soon," Blythe replied, settling back into her seat, "but it has its moments."

"There are worse things you could do on a Sunday afternoon," Allegra offered.

Blythe turned to her with a sly smile.

"Hm. I think I can come up with a few good ideas."

"Oh, like what?" Allegra couldn't help but ask. Was she flirting with a stranger? Maybe.

Blythe caught on, a twinkle appearing in her eye as she turned slightly towards Allegra.

"Would you like to find out?"

With one long finger, Allegra tugged her glasses down her nose—a clear indication she was checking Blythe out. Her weekends were free for a while, weren't they?

"Yes," she said softly, "I'd like to find out."

Blythe raised an eyebrow, amused.

"What's your name?"

For the first time in her life, Allegra cursed her parents' choice. How many Allegras were there, anyway? Blythe might not notice, but her superfan friend might.

She thought quickly and chose a name that was familiar—her sister's.

"Petra," she said, feeling decidedly awkward and nothing like the namesake.

"Petra, huh? I like it."

Allegra smiled softly, letting the moment hang between them.

Blythe chuckled.

"Well, Petra, it's nice to meet you." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a pristine business card. "Give me a call when you're free."

Allegra barely looked at it. “Got a pen?”

Brow arched, Blythe reached into her pocket and pulled a pen free—an expensive pen. She handed it to Allegra and watched as Allegra turned the card over and scribbled something on the back of it.

“Now you have my number.” Allegra smiled and handed back the pen and the card. “Don’t lose it.”

​

​

Chapter Two

 

She pulled the crutches free from under the seat and got herself upright, waiting while the crowd thinned before attempting the stairs. Jubilant fans, still singing, filed past.

It was a good win, and she’d enjoyed being a fan, but now Allegra had to make her way back around the ground.

“I didn’t realise you were actually injured. Do you need a hand?” Blythe asked, her hand resting lightly on Allegra’s shoulder.

Allegra smiled. “Oh, I’m a dab hand at these now. It’s been three weeks—couple more to go.” As she spoke, she caught Ros watching her more closely, eyes narrowing as Allegra turned away.

A gap opened and she hopped forward, inching carefully down each step until she reached the bottom. The warmth of Blythe’s palm, which had moved down and rested against the small of her back, was both comforting and something else—intimate. She liked it.

At the foot of the stairs, they shuffled along with the steady swell of the crowd. As they neared the corner where most people were filing out, Allegra slowed. She planned to go the other way.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you both,” she said, glancing at Ros, who was still watching her closely. The scrutiny was starting to feel ridiculous. With a quiet sigh, Allegra pulled off her sunglasses and smiled as Ros’s eyes went wide.

“Bloody hell! Allegra Mann!”

Blythe looked confused, her gaze shifting between them. Then her eyes landed fully on Allegra’s and she pulled her own sunglasses off. “Okay…someone want to let me in on this?”

Allegra exhaled and slid her glasses back into place. “I’m sorry. My name’s not Petra—that’s my sister. I’m Allegra.”

Ros nudged Blythe, barely containing her excitement. “She plays…for the team.”

It took a moment before Blythe said, “Why didn’t you just say that?”

As the last word left her lips, a group of teenagers passed by and instantly broke into a chant.

“Oh, Al-leg-ra Ma-nn, oh, Al-leg-ra Ma-nn…”

The familiar Seven Nation Army tune rippled through the crowd. Allegra gave a wave and leant into a quick selfie with one of them, her smile easy but her eyes drifting quickly back to Blythe.

“That’d be why,” Ros said with a grin.

“Quite,” Blythe murmured, watching the scene unfold. “Is this normal? Is she…safe?”

“Totally. Players always come over and talk to fans,” Ros replied. She nodded towards the far side of the pitch where other players were beginning to gather, clapping and signing shirts. “It’s part of the whole thing.”

“I have to admit,” Blythe said slowly, still observing, “this isn’t anything like I expected it would be.”

More fans wandered past them, offering quick greetings and smiles. Allegra responded politely, but her attention kept sliding back, until the space around them cleared again, and she turned fully towards Blythe.

Their eyes met.

“You good?” Allegra asked, quieter now, more personal.

“I think so,” Blythe replied, searching her face. “Still getting my head around the fact that I spent an entire match sitting next to someone who’s apparently famous.”

Allegra smiled, the corners of her mouth pulling soft and slow. “Only famous on the pitch. Off it…not so much.”

Blythe tilted her head. “I don’t know. Off it, you’re kind of hard to ignore.”

That earned her a laugh—low, a little surprised—and a flash of something behind Allegra’s eyes that Blythe hadn’t seen before—something unguarded.

“Coming to the next one?” Ros asked, her voice cutting in, full of hope and mischief.

Blythe didn’t break eye contact. “That rather depends.”

Allegra arched a brow. “On?”

Blythe gave a small, teasing smile. “Whether you’ll actually text me back.”

Ros groaned, throwing up her hands. “You got her number?! Of course you did.”