loving you; is that what you’re saying? Because, if anything, Jim, having Rico has only made me see more clearly what I really want.’
Her eyes locked with his again, nobody saying anything as they stared at each other.
‘I need you to go, Amber.’
It was a few seconds before she could tear her gaze away from his, but when it finally happened it was as if a curtain had come down on everything, cutting her off from this man in front of her. Closing down those feelings, blocking them out. Or trying to.
Walking calmly out of his office she closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, breathing in deeply as she tried to regain the composure she’d just lost in there.
‘Come on, Amber, you can do this,’ she whispered, inwardly berating herself for letting Jim get so close to her – too close – all over again. For repeating that age-old mistake, that continuous, heartbreaking mistake she’d been making for over two decades now.
Breathing out, she pushed her hair back off her face and strode down the corridor, knowing she had only seconds to pull herself together. She was at work, she was a professional – she was trying to be, anyway.
‘What’s up with you?’ Ronnie asked, joining Amber as she hovered around the entrance to the tunnel that led out onto the pitch.
‘Nothing’s up with me.’
‘Liar.’
Amber said nothing. She continued to stare out at the rapidly filling stadium as people made their way to their seats, the noise of an overexcited derby-day crowd echoing around the ground.
‘What have you done to piss Ryan off?’
Amber swung around to look at Ronnie. ‘Sorry?’
‘You’ve told him about London, then?’
‘Jesus Christ…’
‘Today, Amber? You told him today?’
‘Alright, I know. I know, okay? I know my timing was crap.’
‘Understatement. Although, come to think of it, if he’s pissed off enough he might have that fire underneath him that all players should have on a derby day.’
Amber just shook her head and turned to walk back up the tunnel. ‘I’d better get up to the studio. We’re on air in a few minutes.’
‘Yeah, I know the running schedule, thank you.’ Ronnie gently grabbed her wrist, stopping her from running ahead of him. ‘I thought Amber Sullivan was coming back.’
Amber looked at her best friend, taking in another deep, deep breath. ‘She’s trying, Ronnie. It just isn’t that fucking easy.’
His hand slipped into hers, squeezing it tightly while his smile calmed her slightly. She really had no idea what she would do without this man. He wasn’t just her best friend, he was her rock. That one person she could rely on when everything else was turning to crap. He was the one person she couldn’t afford to lose.
‘Maybe telling him – telling Ryan – maybe today wasn’t the best day to tell him I’m leaving. It wasn’t my finest moment, but… I need to do it, Ronnie. I need to move away, to get some space, because I’m going crazy here. I’m going fucking crazy.’
He leaned over to whisper in her ear, letting his lips brush gently and discreetly over her cheek as he edged closer to her. ‘I know, sweetheart. I know. Come on. Let’s get this over with, then we can get out of here.’
*
Ellen watched from one of the hospitality boxes as Brandon Palmer ran rings around the Newcastle Red Star defence, leaving Gary Blandford for lost and the goalkeeper no chance at all of saving a goal that thundered past him, rocketing into the back of the net, sending the Wearside Spartans fans wild. On derby days it wasn’t just points that were being played for – pride came into it, too. But with both teams so close together in the league, both of them fighting for a top-five position and one of those coveted European cup places, points were all of a sudden becoming more important to play for, which was why both teams were playing like their lives depended on it.
Ellen smiled to herself, letting her mind wander back to yesterday afternoon, when she’d successfully persuaded Brandon that sex the day before a big match could only be a good thing. All that rubbish about it draining players of all their energy; she’d just proved how wrong that theory was, because her boyfriend was on fire. And anyway, when she’d been with Ryan they’d never given that old theory much thought. But then, Ryan never had been one to play by the rules.
Thinking about Ryan was something Ellen never had been able to help. Ryan Fisher wasn’t a man you let into your life and then let go of easily. He made sure of that. But his one downfall, the one thing that made him such a frustrating man to be in love with was his obsession with Amber Sullivan. She was his Achilles heel; the one thing that stopped him from moving on. She was the one thing that had made sure Ellen’s relationship with Ryan had never stood a chance. And even though it was quite obvious to anyone but Ryan that she was still very much in love with his boss, still he couldn’t seem to let her go. But Ellen didn’t give up easily. She might be living with one of football’s newest and most talented stars, but he wasn’t Ryan Fisher. Brandon Palmer might be handsome and rich; he might be the son of one of football’s most respected and successful players and managers, and he might be quite a few women’s walking fantasy, and she loved him, she did. He was a good man, a kind man, and he cared about her. He just wasn’t Ryan. And Ellen wanted Ryan. She wanted him back, and when Ellen wanted something, she usually got it. In the end. Even if it meant undergoing one hell of a fight to get there.
*
Jim stood at the edge of the technical area, his hands deep in his pockets, his eyes covered by the aviator shades he always liked to wear as he watched the final few seconds of a tough match play out. The game was deadlocked at two goals apiece, which, under normal circumstances would be a welcome result for a derby game. But this one was different. This one needed to be won to make sure Newcastle Red Star climbed above Wearside Spartans in the league table, because ever since Brandon Palmer had joined Spartans he’d made sure they were no longer the region’s poor relation as far as football teams were concerned. How ironic that Jim’s own son should be the one to make sure Newcastle Red Star had stiff competition so close to home.
Keeping his composure, which was something Jim Allen was famous for, he shouted over to Ryan, issuing instructions for one final push forward. Ryan immediately retrieved the ball from a Spartans player and ran with it, at a blistering speed, and with a determination Jim was glad hadn’t been overshadowed by his earlier distraction.
Overcoming an attempted tackle from a Spartans defender on the edge of the penalty box, Ryan carried on towards the goal, the ball remaining at his feet as though it were glued there, and even Jim couldn’t help but be in awe of the talent Ryan possessed. When he was on his A-game, he was one of the greatest players of his generation; Jim couldn’t deny that.
Stepping back towards the dugout, Jim watched as Ryan cannoned what was probably the final kick of the match past the Wearside Spartans’ goalkeeper and into the back of the net. The ecstatic Red Star fans filled the stadium with a roar so loud it was deafening. And when the final whistle, just seconds later, sealed that late winner for Newcastle Red Star, that roar grew louder as both the points, and the pride, went to the team that played north of the Tyne.
After quickly shaking the hand of Billy Bishop, Wearside Spartans’ manager, Jim quickly headed off into the tunnel, almost running back up the stairs, making his escape into his office. He had just minutes before he had to be back out there, giving post-match interviews and press conferences, but he needed this few seconds alone, to think about everything. To think about his next move; to make sure he knew what he was doing. What had happened with Amber had thrown him slightly. It hadn’t been planned; he’d never intended to have sex with her or embark on any kind of conversation with a woman he loved beyond anything. He just couldn’t