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“Trauma and genetics and somethings are what’s in our brains. Poetry reveals what’s in the soul.”

Jamie wasn’t sure how to answer that. She chanced a glance back at the shelf.

“Are you much of a reader?” Lila wondered.

“No, not really. I wish I read more, but with my schedule, it’s difficult.”

“That schedule should open up a bit now that you’re not involved in European competitions.”

Jamie shot a glare at Lila. “Wow. Okay.”

“Why should you take offense? It was your choice to change clubs, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but—” Jamie stopped short. “You’re not going to trick me into talking by pissing me off.”

“I’m not trying to trick you, Jamie.”

“Please,” Jamie scoffed.

“Truly, I’m not. What makes you think so?”

Jamie scowled at her.

Lila nodded. “I do see how that’s a leading question. Forgive me.”

A thick silence came over the room like a fog. Lila seemed unperturbed by it, drumming her fingers on her chair and humming softly to herself. Jamie’s eyes slid back over to the bookshelf, finding the Dickinson book again. She didn’t know why, but it stirred something in her chest. And it conjured up Tessa’s smile in her mind. That sweet, gorgeous smile, which often accompanied her warm laughter.

“You don’t have to tell me anything major, you know,” Lila finally said, and Jamie forced her memories of Tessa to the back of her mind. “Anything that’s on your mind, even if it’s simply things going on at training.”

“You think I don’t know the minute this session’s over you’ll give my father notes on everything I said?”

Lila blinked and sat up. “Is that what you think?”

Jamie found herself unable to look at her, so she cut her gaze to the floor. Something in Lila’s tone made her ashamed she’d made the accusation, similar to when she first spoke to her newmanager. Cheeks growing warm, she toed the carpet with her shoe.

“Jamie, your father may pay for these sessions, but that does not entitle him to anything that transpires in this office.”

Once again, Jamie found herself desperate to believe it. She wanted to trust. But her father’s shadow loomed in her heart, imposing and dangerous. She shook her head.

“He always finds out,” she said, half to herself.

“What does he find out?”

“Everything.”

“Surely not everything. I bet if you thought hard about it, you could come up with at least one thing your father doesn’t know about you.”

The memories of Tessa she’d been keeping at bay surged to the forefront of her mind. Her smile again, and that laugh. All the Northern Irish and Derry slang she’d use more frequently the more emotional she was about something. Their trip to Derry, where Jamie got to hold her hand at a table for the first time, because the Gallaghers had sworn to protect her. Mundane things like going to the chippy together to pick up dinner. And intimate things like waking up with Tessa’s blonde hair tickling her nose. Every kiss, every touch, every late night talk. All of it without her father ever knowing.

“Yes. . . ” Jamie said softly. “I can think of one thing.”

“Well,” Lila said with a smile. “That’s a start.”

The rest of the session, Jamie only gave away surface level things. Her favorite film (The Parent Trap, the 1998 version), her family and growing up in London, and a few things about football. And to test the waters, she mentioned Tessa. Not by name. She referred to her as “an old friend,” but she knew if her father heard about it, he’d call and question her. If he did, it meant Lila was in his pocket. If he didn’t, Lila could be trusted.

When their time was up, Jamie was the first to get to her feet, and she headed for the door. She had a hand on the knob when Lila called her to a stop.

“One moment, Jamie.”