Ryan couldn’t help but grin at his CD Adeje teammate Callum Henderson’s friendly shoulder-slap as they walked down the tunnel back to the dressing room. They’d just bagged an unexpected 4-3 win over a team from the mainland that had, so far that particular season, remained unbeaten. But, thanks to a hat-trick from Ryan, and a late injury-time winner from Callum, they’d pulled off a win that now saw CD Adeje climb to their highest position in the league for a number of years.
Callum Henderson had become Ryan’s closest friend since his arrival on the island. A twenty-three-year-old Australian, originally from Melbourne, he was on loan to CD Adeje from English club Grantham Town, so he and Ryan weren’t exactly strangers. They’d played against each other several times in the past back home. But now they’d also found out they had quite a bit in common off the pitch, too, which had thrown them together in what was a new experience for both of them.
‘Yeah, well, you helped seal the deal,’ Ryan said, pulling off his strip. Even though it had been an evening match the heat outside was still quite oppressive. The island was currently going through a bit of a winter heat wave, which meant that temperatures were way up on what they usually were at that time of year, but Ryan wasn’t complaining. He loved the all-year-round sun and heat Tenerife offered. Yeah, he was really loving his new temporary home.
‘So, you coming out to Las Americas later?’ Callum asked, following Ryan into the dressing room. ‘We’ve got to celebrate this win, mate. We killed it out there tonight.’
Ryan sat down, pushing both hands through his messed-up hair before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘I don’t know, Callum. I don’t know if I’m in the mood.’
He and Callum had been out quite a bit recently, hitting the bars most nights, and when there was a long enough break between games they’d even tried out a couple of the clubs. And whilst Ryan had made the most of being young, free, famous and single again, knocking back very few of the offers that were made to him any time he set foot outside, he’d now reached a point where he felt like he needed a break. A sign that he really was trying to leave the old Ryan behind.
Callum looked at him, raising a questioning eyebrow, and for one split second it reminded Ryan of the way Gary had used to look at him. He missed Gary. He missed a lot of things about back home, but on the other hand he was glad he’d made the decision to leave. Just for a little while. Because he hated the thought of never going back.
‘Okay,’ Ryan sighed, sitting back and smiling. ‘Okay. I’ll come. You happy now?’
‘Hey, listen, mate, we need you with us when we hit those places. You’re the one that attracts all the women. The ones you don’t want come running to the rest of us, remember?’
Now he really reminded Ryan of Gary. ‘Have you listened to yourself?’ Ryan laughed. ‘You make it sound like some kind of meat market out there.’
‘And it isn’t?’ Callum asked, raising that eyebrow again. ‘You know as well as I do that most of those girls make a beeline for you because of who you are, although, to be honest, you’re one hot-looking son-of-a-bitch regardless of the fact you’re famous and loaded. They’d probably come running anyway. I fucking hate you, Fisher.’
Ryan laughed again, looking down at his clasped hands. Callum was a breath of fresh air, the kind of friend he needed right now. Someone to help him take his mind off things while he tried to sort his head out. But it was taking a lot longer than Ryan had ever thought it would. Maybe he was still too close to home. Maybe there were still too many links to the U.K., too many chances to be reminded of the things he was trying hard to deal with.
‘You okay?’ Callum asked, kicking off his football boots.
‘Hmm?’ Ryan looked up. He’d been deep in thought there for a second. ‘Sorry, did you say something?’
‘You okay? Only, you look a bit distracted.’
‘I’m fine.’ He stood up, sliding his shorts off and stripping naked, ready for one of those cold showers that were so popular due to the heat over there. ‘Come on. We’d better get moving if we want to make the most of what’s left of this night.’
‘That’s my boy,’ Callum grinned, slapping Ryan on the back again before running off into the showers.
It was going to be another one of those nights on the beautiful island of Tenerife. And that suited Ryan just fine.
Amber felt sick. She felt physically sick as she scrolled down the page she’d just logged onto, reading information she didn’t really want to read, but she knew she had to. She had to know.
‘What you looking at?’
She hurriedly closed the lid of the laptop as Ronnie wandered back onto the studio floor. She’d thought he’d left with the rest of her fellow Scoreline presenters for a quick post-show drink with a couple of that evening’s guests – a popular manager of a team already in the midst of a relegation battle, and an injured player from one of the top flight clubs who’d been giving his opinions on the current race for the title. A race which Newcastle Red Star was winning, at the moment, despite the absence of Ryan Fisher.
‘I’m not looking at anything,’ Amber said, resting her arms on the closed laptop lid.
Ronnie stopped in front of the desk and looked at her, raising an eyebrow, which told her he wasn’t convinced. With good reason. ‘So why the guilty look, then?’
‘I don’t look guilty.’
‘Yeah. You do.’
‘What you doing here anyway? I thought I’d told you I’d meet you in the bar.’
‘That was half an hour ago, Amber. I got tired of waiting, so I decided to come looking for you. So, what you up to?’
‘Nothing. Jesus, stop with the Spanish Inquisition, will you?’
He walked round the back of the desk, behind her chair, resting his hands on her shoulders as he began to rub them, causing Amber to close her eyes and moan quietly.
‘Oh, that feels good,’ she groaned, leaning back in her chair, not realising she’d just been duped. The second she took her arms off the laptop lid, Ronnie dived over and opened it, and Amber’s reflexes just weren’t quick enough to stop it from happening.
‘Hang on…’ Ronnie frowned, his eyes scanning the page Amber had been reading. She said nothing, she just waited for him to finish as her stomach tied itself up in a million knots that seemed to get tighter by the second. And she still felt sick.
Ronnie finally turned away from the laptop and leaned back against the desk, folding his arms, his eyes meeting hers. And it was a look that told Amber he wanted the truth. No lies. No trying to avoid the subject.
‘Something you want to talk about?’ he asked.
Amber broke the stare, looking down at her wedding ring. She still couldn’t bear to take it off. The thought of doing that made her feel a sense of finality she wasn’t ready to face just yet. Even though she knew her life would be so much easier if she could do that. Especially now. ‘I just needed to find out… I needed…’ She looked back up at him. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, Ronnie. I don’t know.’
‘Are you late?’
It was Amber’s turn to frown. ‘Late?’
‘Your period, Amber. Jesus, do I have to spell this out for you?’
‘I haven’t had a period for weeks now, but I just put it down to the stress of what’s been happening, and the extra workload, I mean…’
‘Have you done a test?’
‘A test?’
‘Christ, it’s like trying to get blood out of a frigging stone… A pregnancy test. Have you done one?’
‘No. No, why would I? I can’t get pregnant, Ronnie, you know that.’
‘No, Amber, you were told you probably wouldn’t be able to get pregnant, not that you definitely couldn’t. It isn’t the same thing.’
‘As good as.’
‘You need to do a test.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you need to rule it out, Amber. I take it you’re experiencing other symptoms, too?’
She nodded, feeling her
head start to spin. She’d been feeling like this for a while now – sick, tired, headaches that wouldn’t go away. But she’d put it all down to stress. What else could it possibly be?
‘I can’t do it, Ronnie,’ she whispered, standing up and walking round the front of the desk.
‘So what’s your next move, then? Just sweep it under the carpet like you always do and pretend it isn’t happening?’
‘I’m just tired. I need a break.’
‘Yes, you do. I think you do need a break because you’ve been working yourself into the ground instead of facing up to certain things. And, yes, it’s quite possible that everything you’re feeling is linked to nothing but stress. But what if it isn’t, Amber?’
‘I’m scared, Ronnie. I’m scared that if I do a test and it’s negative then it’s just going to bring back all the pain and the hurt I felt before. I’d just started to accept the fact that I was never going to be a mum, and I don’t know how I’m going to feel if I have to go through all that again. I can’t let myself believe that it might actually be happening. I can’t do that.’
‘But what if it is happening?’
She leaned back against the desk, dropping her head into her hands.
‘Amber?’
‘I’m still scared,’ she whispered.
‘Of what, sweetheart? What are you scared of? I mean, isn’t this what you’ve wanted? Huh? Couldn’t this, potentially, be great news?’
She closed her eyes, keeping her head in her hands as she took a long, deep breath.
‘Come on,’ Ronnie said, pulling her hands away from her face, keeping tight hold of one of them.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, managing to grab her bag before he almost dragged her out of the studio.
‘We’re going to get this sorted, one way or another.’
‘Now she is one hot woman!’ Callum whistled, watching as a tall and beautiful blonde sauntered over to the bar, throwing him a look that said he could quite easily be onto something, if he played his cards right. ‘You stay where you are, Fisher. She gets one look at you and she’ll probably decide to ditch me in favour of the good-looking one.’
‘You’re selling yourself short, mate.’ Ryan grinned. ‘You were hardly last in the queue when they were giving out looks.’
Which was true. Callum was just as good-looking as Ryan, in a taller, slightly more pretty-boy kind of way. He wasn’t quite as rough around the edges as Ryan was, but he still had his fair share of wannabe WAGs hanging around him.
‘Yeah, I know, but all the girls love a bad boy, don’t they?’ Callum said, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the blonde at the bar. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
‘Not all of them,’ Ryan muttered, leaning back against the wall as he checked out the view around him – a seething mass of people in a bar made up mainly of tourists.
Callum looked at his teammate, briefly averting his gaze from his intended conquest. ‘You need a woman,’ he said, turning his attention back to the blonde, who was now making her way over to them. ‘So go and find one. Go on. Before she gets over here and realises who you are.’
‘Has it ever occurred to you that not everybody cares who we are? Or even knows who we are?’
‘Not really.’ Callum smirked. ‘See you later.’
He didn’t wait for the blonde to reach them, making his move before she had time to check Ryan out, and Ryan couldn’t help shaking his head and smiling as he watched Callum go in for the kill, snaking his arm around the pretty blonde’s waist as she giggled at something he said. One of his famous Aussie chat-up lines, no doubt, Ryan assumed. They were his trademark.
Sighing rather too loudly, Ryan picked up his drink and drained the glass, checking his watch. It was after midnight, and all of a sudden a wave of tiredness hit him from out of nowhere. Maybe it was time to call it a night. He hadn’t really been in the mood for all of this, and it would appear those were the vibes he was giving off because the women weren’t exactly flocking around him tonight.
‘You going somewhere?’
He swung round at the sound of a familiar voice, squinting slightly in the dim light of the bar as he tried to focus on the person in front of him.
‘Ellen?’
She smiled, shaking out her hair and giving him a look that told Ryan she was ready for business. Even if he wasn’t.
‘What… what are you doing here?’
‘Well, seeing as you so rudely ran out on me without really giving me a chance to show you how much you mean to me, I thought I’d make use of my few days off to come and see you.’ She walked over to him, reaching out to touch his arm, running her fingers up and down it as she moved closer. ‘You see, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you left, Ryan. And I don’t think you realised just how good we could be together, you and me. You didn’t really give us a chance. I understand why you had to go, but I don’t think you needed to lose me in the process. I mean, I could actually help you to forget… to forget her, if that’s what you want…’
He’d heard enough, and she’d only been there a matter of minutes. ‘How did you find me, Ellen?’ His voice was tinged with a coldness that Ellen chose to ignore.
‘Well, it wasn’t easy, but I went round to your villa…’
‘You went to my villa? Who the hell told you where I lived?’
‘Someone at the club… I was at the match tonight…’
‘For fuck’s sake! What happened to privacy? And how did you know I’d be here? In Las Americas?’
‘Your neighbour told me you’d gone out in a taxi, and I assumed, because you’d won your match tonight, that you’d be out celebrating. So all I had to do was ask around a few of the bars along the strip here to see if a group of footballers were out and about … ’
‘Jesus. You’re verging on stalker material now, sweetheart. I really need this, don’t I?’ He pushed a hand though his hair, turning away from her. He’d thought this part of his life was over, done. He’d thought he’d left her behind in Newcastle, to get on with her life, and let him get on with his. He’d thought the message had been clear enough.
‘I could be good for you, Ryan.’
He turned to look at her. She was so pretty, so, so pretty, and when he’d first met her she’d seemed so innocent – a complete contrast to the ice-queen image that Amber sometimes gave off. But it would seem that the innocence had quickly faded, to be replaced by a manipulative, almost scheming side to her. He just hoped it wasn’t verging on the obsessive. He could do without that hassle.
But whatever he felt for this woman who’d flown all the way over there to try her best to win him back – a futile act that had no chance of working – he didn’t want to see her hurt. He didn’t want to do that to her again, but she was leaving him with no other option. So what was his next move supposed to be now?
Amber squeezed her eyes tight shut as she sat on the closed lid of the toilet, holding the small white stick in her hand. Ronnie was perched on the side of the bath, watching the clock as the seconds ticked by.
‘Give it here,’ he said, realising they were now way past the time the box had said it would take for the test to be complete.
Amber shook her head, her eyes still closed. ‘No. It was bad enough you being in here while I peed on the bloody thing without you telling me what the outcome is.’
‘So you’re just gonna sit there holding it with your eyes shut? For how long? Jesus, just give it here…’ He leaned over and took it out of her hand, an action which caused her to finally open her eyes.
Her heart was beating so hard it hurt, those knots in her stomach tightening, pulling and pulling until she had no breath left, because she really didn’t want to know what that test said. After everything she’d been through, she didn’t want to know. Whatever the result, she didn’t know if she was ready to hear it. Or ready to deal with it.
She looked at Ronnie, watching as he stared down at the little white stick before looking back up at her. But he
said nothing, just held it out for her to take, keeping his arm outstretched until she took it from him.
‘Look at it, Amber.’
‘I can’t.’ Her hand was shaking, and all she wanted to do was throw that stick in the bin and forget this was happening.
‘Amber, please. Just look at it.’
She closed her eyes for a few more seconds before opening them again, finally looking down at her hands. Her heart continued to hammer against her ribs, her head spinning faster and faster as she stared at the result, hardly able to dare believe what it was telling her.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she whispered, her voice steady and calm, belying everything she was actually feeling. ‘How…?’ She looked up at Ronnie, a feeling of utter confusion washing over her, mixed with a realisation she now had to face up to.
‘According to that, it says date of conception occurred 3+ weeks ago,’ Ronnie said. ‘Have you and Jim…?’
She shook her head. ‘I said I was scared, Ronnie. Remember?’
Her eyes met Ronnie’s again and he frowned, that expression of confusion taking over his face now, too. ‘Yeah, but…’
‘It’s Ryan’s,’ she said, her voice now beginning to lose that calm edge it had managed to hang onto for so long. ‘Ronnie, if this is right, if this test is right… this baby, it’s Ryan’s.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Ryan said, watching as Ellen brushed her hair and applied a coat of pale pink lip gloss, smiling at her reflection.
‘You were the one who brought me back last night,’ she said, fluffing out her hair. ‘And you didn’t exactly push me away when it came to bedtime, did you?’ She turned around, directing her smile at him.
No, he hadn’t. But it had taken a good few drinks and another couple of hours in three more bars before he’d been drunk enough to not care what was happening anymore. Last night hadn’t been the time or the place to have the conversation he needed to have with her, even though he couldn’t help feeling it was a conversation he’d already had. Repeating himself wasn’t something he was a fan of doing.
‘Yeah, well, we’d both had a bit to drink, hadn’t we?’ He got out of bed, pulling on a pair of combats and running his fingers through his hair.
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