Page 229 of Off the Pitch

I winced and hissed in pain as the doctor gently ran his hand across the back of my thigh, just above my knee.

“I’m fine,” I said, twisting my head to look around. “It’s just cramp. I probably didn’t stretch properly yesterday.”

The doctor, whose name was Adam, looked at me with a set expression I’d seen before. It was the expression sports medics tended to wear when dealing with particularly stubborn athletes. It was the same one they used when they had to deliver bad news. In the corner, Nigel Grant was giving me a worried look.

“I’m sorry, Jordan,” Adam said, and I winced again. The tone of his voice said everything I needed to know. “You’ve torn your hamstring. You’re lucky. I think it’s only a minor tear, but it means at least six weeks out, if not more. We will need to get your leg scanned and properly looked over, but I can’t let you continue. I’m sorry.”

Pain, more intense than anything I’d ever felt, burned white-hot in my chest. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. All I could hear were Adam’s words playing over and over in my head as the crushing realisation that my World Cup dream was over hit me with the force of a rocket.

In the background, I heard the two other men talking about recovery time and my return home and hospital treatment and calling Greenwich to let them know what had happened, since they’d want to direct my recovery. All I could do was stare at the floor in front of me as everything I’d worked so hard for was ripped away from me. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Jordan?” Nigel asked gently. “You’re rooming with Liam, aren’t you? Are you okay if I ask him to come in? You’ll need a hand getting up to your room. And is there someone you’d like us to call to let them know you’re coming home?”

“H-home?” My voice came out shaky, surprising even me. I knew it was inevitable. I didn’t even know why I was asking for confirmation.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go home. Is there someone you want us to call?”

The only person I wanted was over six thousand miles away.

It should have scared me how much I wanted Félix in that moment, but it didn’t. I just wanted him here with me, to tell me it was going to be okay and to hold me tight and joke with me. I needed him here, not on the other side of the world.

“Um, I’ll let my dad know,” I said quietly. I didn’t really want to tell my dad, even though he’d find out as soon as the team released the news to the media. I’d rather tell him than have him find out from Facebook. Still, it was going to suck. I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of his disappointment or his sympathy.

I just wanted none of this to be happening.

Adam continued to talk, explaining everything I needed to do in the next twenty-four hours, and that one of the Greenwich team doctors would be in touch as soon as I was back at home. I listened, taking everything in but not really processing it.

When he released me, I drifted back to my room, limping alongside Liam who was the quietest I’d ever seen him. It was obvious he didn’t know what to say, so instead he hovered and retrieved things while I sat on the bed and packed up my stuff.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually.

“Please don’t.” My voice caught in my throat, and I felt myself fighting back tears, which somehow made it all worse. “Just… don’t. Not right now.”

“Okay. Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Nah. It’s fine.” I paused, shoved the last of my training tops into my bag with more force than necessary, not caring if they got squashed. It wasn’t like I needed them. “Just, um, just do your fucking best. For me.”

“Always,” Liam said. He pushed my bag away and sat down next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m really gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.”

“I’ll call you every day. And I’ll text you too.”

“You’d fucking better.”

“It’s gonna suck so much without you.” Liam’s voice cracked, and when he pulled away, I saw a tear running down his face. “I don’t think I can do this without you.”

“Yeah, you can. I fucking believe in you, Liam Gold.”

“Thanks, mate.” He exhaled deeply, squeezing me tightly again. “Fuck, now I gotta get a new roommate. I hope they don’t snore.”

I snorted, laughter bubbling out of me weakly as I rested my head on his shoulder. “Just throw a pillow at them. That’s what I do to you.”

Liam chuckled and wiped his eyes. “Will do.”

There was a knock at the door, and Nigel stuck his head in to tell me what was happening next. I knew they wanted to get me home as soon as possible so I could start treatment and recovery, but it still felt like they were kicking me out.

I spoke to my dad quickly, and managed to keep my voice even, and to his credit he did the same. He said he’d let Ant know, and he’d come and pick me up from the airport so I wouldn’t have to worry. The fact he wasn’t treating me like I was made of glass made me feel a little better. I appreciated him trying to make the best of this utterly shit situation.

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