He nods slowly. “You knew that though, didn’t you, mate? You knew that months ago when you agreed to whatever arrangement the two of you made.”
“I know, but…”
“But what?”
“I thought she’d change her mind. But she’s… she’s pulling away. I can feel it. It’s like every day she’s a step further.”
I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t do anything to settle the knot in my chest. It feels like every part of her is retreating. She hardly even looks me in the eye anymore.
Luke watches me for a long moment. “Can I ask you something?”
I shoot him a look. “Are you going to ask even if I say no?”
“Probably.” Luke leans back, crossing his arms, watching me with a look on his face like he’s about to hold a mirror up and I’m not going to like what I see.
I sigh and nod. “Go on then.”
“Did you ever even ask her to stay?”
The words hit me square in the chest. I look away, fixing my gaze toward the bar.
“I wanted to,” I say quietly.
“That’s not what I asked, mate.”
I flick my gaze back to him, defensive. “What difference does it make?”
“It makes a huge difference,” Luke says, leaning forward now. “If you didn’t ask her to stay, then how the hell is she supposed to know you want her to?”
I sit there, mouth half open, unable to come up with a single intelligent response. I know he’s right. And I hate that he’s right. And I hate even more that I don’t have a good answer beyond the most simple one: I’m a coward.
“Jesus, Oliver,” Luke mutters, shaking his head. “You are one of the most stubborn, loyal, emotionally stupid people I’ve ever met.”
“Thanks, mate,” I say dryly.
“I’m serious,” he says, leaning in. “Do you want her to stay?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then fucking tell her that.”
“Tell her what, exactly? That I want her to throw away her plans and her rules? For what? The guy who can’t even do an interview without fucking it up? The guy who called her ‘no one special’ when he got nervous?”
Luke exhales, frustrated but still patient. “Oliver, I know you’ve spent your whole life trying to carry everything alone. You think none of us see it, but we do. You think being the captain means you have to be the strong one, that you can’t let anyone see when you’re hurting. I know you think that’s how you’re supposed to be, but you don’t have to do that with her, or with any of us.”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You can start by letting people in,” Luke says slowly, like he’s patiently explaining this to a thick child. “The team? Those lads train with you every day, bleed with you on every pitch. Theycareabout you, not just as a player, but as a person. You don’t need to keep everyone at arm’s length to be a good captain.” He takes a sip of his beer and smiles. “And Addison? If you can’t see how she feels about you, then you’re dumber than I thought.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Luke is right. I’ve spent months letting Addison think this thing between us was temporary. I’ve neverlooked her in the eye and told her that this whole season, every match, every training session, every moment in between—it’s all meant more because she’s been in it with me.
I have to tell her. I’ve been so scared she might not feel the same way about me that I never even gave her the chance to choose. I’ve just been holding my breath, pretending it wouldn’t ruin me if she walked away.
But it will ruin me. Even promotion—the one thing I’ve worked for my entire career—would feel like a hollow prize if she’s not there. For years now, promotion to the Premier League has been my goal. It’s been a grueling climb. But what’s the point of climbing the mountain if the person you want to share the view with is gone?
I love football. For the longest time, nothing has ever been more important to me than being on a pitch. And for most of my life, football has been my strength, my solace, and my safety net.
Until her.
