Final Score

A wave of guilt stabbed her chest and she briefly looked down at the floor. If it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. If it wasn’t for her, this club wouldn’t be losing the best manager they’d ever had – the best manager the game had seen in a long, long time.

She briefly closed her eyes, silently scolding herself for giving in to another bout of self-pity because she didn’t deserve that luxury. She’d helped cause this mess. She’d done that.

Looking over at Jim again she felt her stomach contract as his eyes locked onto hers, and he smiled – at her. A smile that may have been brief but it was meant only for her, she knew that. It was a smile that was trying to tell her it was all going to be okay, because that’s what Jim Allen did. He told her how things would be.

He broke the stare and turned his attention back to the room, but that smile he’d aimed directly at her hadn’t gone unnoticed by a few of the more eagle-eyed journalists and reporters in the room, some of whom had now turned around to look at her, which made her feel more than a little uncomfortable. She still wasn’t a fan of being anywhere near the limelight. She may be what they classed as a minor celebrity now; a famous face in the world of sports presenting. And she may have appeared on more than a handful of magazine covers and done photo shoots that had caused more than a few eyebrows to be raised, but sometimes she felt as though someone else entirely had done all of those things, because it was still hard for her to get her head around everything that had happened to her. But being the centre of attention, having people interested in every move she made, having them write about her personal life and ask questions that nobody but those closest to her should ask, that still wasn’t something Amber could get used to. Nor did she want to.

‘You okay?’ Max asked, sidling up next to her.

She nodded, staring out a particular journalist she was familiar with; a hack who’d twisted stories about her and Jim on more than one occasion to make them sound more sordid or interesting than they really had been. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You didn’t have to come in here, if you didn’t want to.’

‘I wanted to be with Jim.’ She turned her head to look at Max. ‘I wanted to make sure he told them what he’d told me. I wanted to make sure he was really leaving; that’s how bad things have got, Max. I actually need to hear him say the words, to hear them for myself as he tells the football world he’s leaving here. To start a new life. With me. I needed to hear him say those words to someone other than just me. That’s the only way I can believe him; believe that he means it. That’s how paranoid and obsessive I’ve become.’

Max reached out to quickly squeeze her hand. ‘You know this isn’t the end of it, though, don’t you? This is just the beginning of the questions and the speculation about you and Jim, you and Ryan… This isn’t the end, Amber.’

‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I know that.’

‘And I’ll be there, sweetheart. Every step of the way. I’ll be there to help in any way I can. To make this easier, for all of you.’

She couldn’t help smiling at him, squeezing his hand back. ‘I knew I’d made you Rico’s godfather for a reason.’

Max grinned at her. ‘Yeah. It means I get to him first when he becomes one of the most famous footballers this country has ever seen.’

Amber laughed quietly, shaking her head. ‘As long as he’s got his daddy’s talent, and not his mother’s ability to fuck up everything.’

Max gave her fingers one more squeeze before letting go of her hand. ‘You’ll get through this, Amber. You’re a Sullivan. You’ll get through this.’

Once upon a time she would have believed that. But now she wasn’t quite so sure.

Chapter Nine (#ulink_7d00c326-1203-59b3-af4c-c6401dd0af26)

‘Jesus, Ryan, slow down, mate. Debbie’s gonna kill me if I take you back home wasted.’

‘You my babysitter now?’

‘Do you need one?’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Yeah. Really good to see the old Ryan back. I’m going to the bar. And if you want another one, you can get it yourself. I’m not being responsible for you getting into a state. Those days are frigging over.’

‘Good to know who my real friends are.’

Gary turned around and leaned over the table, his face close to Ryan’s as he spoke. ‘I’m a real friend, Ryan. I was there when you were throwing your life down the fucking toilet, remember? I was there when you were lying in the gutter because you were too frigging pissed to even stand up, or off your fucking head on coke. I was there when you were so fucking low you didn’t think you’d ever drag yourself back up; when you were this fucking close to losing everything, I was there. Me. Your real fucking friend. I was there, Ryan. But if that’s what you want to go back to, you’re on your own this time, you got that? Because I refuse to go there again. I refuse to watch you piss it all away because you still can’t fucking deal with something you should have learnt to deal with a long time ago.’

Ryan watched as Gary walked back over to the bar. But even after listening to those words and after seeing the look on his best friend’s face, all he wanted to do was get so drunk he didn’t know what time of day it was. He wanted to forget he was losing the only things that mattered to him, and he couldn’t do that by being mature and dealing with it, because he couldn’t deal with it. He couldn’t. Not yet. He didn’t want to.

‘On your own tonight, Ryan?’

He turned his head to see an extremely pretty dark-haired girl sit herself down beside him. ‘Not any more.’ He knew her face, and he vaguely recognised her. He knew he’d probably fucked her once or twice at some point during his time with Newcastle Red Star, but that only meant she was one of many, and he never had been all that great at remembering names.

She smiled, sidling up closer to him. ‘So, you looking for some company tonight?’

‘You offering?’

‘Well, you’re a free man now, aren’t you?’

He frowned slightly, not quite drunk enough yet to have lost the ability to focus as he looked at his pretty companion.

‘Your ex-girlfriend,’ she explained, her perfectly manicured, baby-pink fingernails trailing lightly over his tattooed forearm. ‘She’s gone back to her husband, hasn’t she? I saw the press conference earlier this evening on the local news. He’s taking some other manager’s job down south, and she’s going with him.’

Hearing someone else say those words out loud was like a dagger to Ryan’s heart, the pain almost physical. ‘They’re divorced. He isn’t her husband.’

‘Yeah, but, they’re getting married again. He said so, at the press conference.’

Ryan’s frown deepened. ‘Sorry?’

She rolled her eyes, her fingernails still running slowly up and down his arm, not that he was noticing. All he cared about was clarifying what she’d just told him.

‘Your ex-girlfriend, Amber Sullivan, or whatever she calls herself these days, and Jim Allen. They’re getting married again. That’s what he said.’

Ryan reached for his drink, draining the last of his pint. Now he needed something stronger that would take the pain away for a lot longer than just a few hours. Something that would wipe away everything he’d just been told and let him believe it was all okay. He needed that. Again. He needed that. Everything he thought he’d left behind, he wanted it back.

‘You up for a good time?’ He gently removed her hand from his arm and slid his fingers between hers, his eyes asking her another, silent question he hoped she understood.

She smiled slowly, and he felt a strange kind of relief surge through him. An excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time. ‘As good a time as you like,’ she drawled, leaning forward so her mouth was almost touching his. ‘You call the shots, Ryan. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I can get it. You know that.’

He smiled, too, reaching into his pocket for his phone. ‘I’ll call The Goldman. Let them know we’re on our way.’

She grabbed her bag and stood up, wiggling her hips as she pulled the already-too-short hem of her barely-there dress down over her thighs. ‘I’ll make a couple of calls myself. Make sure we’ve got everything we need.’

‘You’re an angel.’ He gave her the full-on Fisher smile, feeling a sense of freedom he hadn’t felt in so long. It was almost exhilarating, as though someone had just opened the cell he’d been locked inside for too many years, and now he was free to do whatever the hell he liked. ‘I’ll meet you in the lobby.’

‘I won’t be long.’ She blew him a kiss, and he watched as she sashayed over to the bar, throwing his head back and letting out a laugh that was almost maniacal.

‘What’s up with you?’ Gary asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as Ryan stood up, slipping his jacket back on and pushing both hands through his hair.

‘Nothing, mate. Absolutely nothing is up with me.’

‘Where you going?’

Ryan looked at his friend. A friend he knew cared about him. And he’d never forget how instrumental Gary and Debbie had been in making sure he hadn’t gone too far down a road that had almost ruined him, but he could handle all of that now. He didn’t need looking after, not any more. ‘I’m going to enjoy myself, Gary. That’s where I’m going.’

‘Ryan…’

He swung around to face Gary. ‘I can look after myself, Gary, okay? I don’t need you or anyone else hanging over me, waiting for me to do something stupid, I don’t need that. I don’t. I can look after myself.’