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“Lauren?”
Her name, spoken in that specific clipped tone, sent a fresh flurry of palpitations through her chest.
“Do we know each other?” Lauren asked.
“We used to.” The air in the bathroom seemed to still. “I’m Carly. City Rovers. Ring any bells?”
It rang plenty. Mainly alarms.
Lauren’s brain finally caught up: the voice, the eyes, the calm, terrifying confidence.
“Oh.” Her hand jerked back. “Wow. It’s been… what? Fifteen years?”
“Give or take.”
“I—” Lauren glanced at the door, but there was nowhere to go. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“For which bit?”
“I don’t know.” Lauren swallowed. “All of it?”
For one long, excruciating second, Carly said nothing. Then she tucked her mascara into her pocket and walked out.
Lauren watched the door swing shut in the cracked mirror. Her reflection looked small. She’d spent years trying to outrun this version of herself, but no matter how far she ran, the past had a nasty habit of catching up.
4
Carly
Carly stepped out of the toilet block into the clubhouse bar. A disco light spun overhead, and the tables had been pushed aside to create a dance floor that barely existed.
She hesitated beside the doorway, spotting Beth weaving through the crowd with a drink in each hand. But before Carly could process what had just happened at the sink, a voice cut through the noise.
“Lloydy!”
The crowd parted as Jenna barrelled through, arms wide. Carly had a second’s warning before she was swept into a hug and lifted clean off the floor.
She laughed despite herself, clinging on.
“I’m so glad you came!” Jenna dropped her back to earth. “I thought you’d fallen off the planet.”
“We’ve both been busy,” Carly said, accepting the gin Beth offered. “Looks like you have too.”
“Insanely. My empire of barbershops keeps growing.”
“I meant the engagement.”
“Oh, right.” Jenna laughed, glancing around. “Abi’s here somewhere. I’ll drag her over soon.”
“I’d like that.”
And she meant it. Jenna was one of the few teammates Carly had played with who made it her mission to befriend everyone, even against their will. It was a valuable reminder that not every woman in football was an arsehole.
Just most of them.
“So what’s new with you two?” Jenna asked. “Haven’t seen either of you at any matches. Don’t tell me you’ve gone big time and joined some elite league.”
Beth and Carly exchanged a look. The rule held: family business stayed private.
