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Ella got back to her room, closed the door, and let out a breath. She pressed her back to the wood.

Yes, she’d always admired Sloane from afar before she met her. For her skills, her passion, and her toned muscles. But getting to know her proved to Ella that Sloane was all those things and so much more. Sometimes when you met stars you admired, it was a let-down. Not so with Sloane Patterson. She was vulnerable, open, funny, sexy. And damn, the woman could sing, too.

Ella took off her clothes, gratefully unclipped her bra, then brushed her teeth and fell into bed. It was at times like these she wished her mum was here to call. Her aunt was a great stand in, but it wasn’t the same. She and her mum used to chat about everything, but she’d have to cope with this herself. She recalled developing an attraction towards her therapist once, which was highly inappropriate, but she’d talked herself out of it. Also, she’d eventually changed therapists to make her life easier. She wasn’t about to leave this job, so she had to work around it, using all the psychological tricks she knew.

Her thoughts were just that.

Thoughts.

She could ignore them.

CHAPTER11

When Sloane woke, her pillow was damp from her dribble. If her adoring fans could see her now. She wiped her mouth with her forearm, then rolled to the other side of her pillow. Beside her, Layla’s bed was unmade, but her roommate was nowhere to be seen.

Sloane’s phone lay on top of her mattress where she’d left it last night after scrolling through photos of yesterday’s game that the club had posted on their socials. She was pleased with her performance, with the link-up with Nat, and also that Ella was on the sideline to watch. Yes, Sloane wanted to impress her new teammates and her manager, but that was work-related. Now she’d gotten to know Ella, she wanted to impress for other reasons that she couldn’t quite pin down. Friendship? Possibly. Nothing more.

Sloane was still engaged in all but name, and very much not on the market, even if she was almost single. The thought made her stomach hurt. She couldn’t face dating again. Perhaps that’s why she was holding on, too. It was like Ella had said, once you reached a certain age, putting yourself out there again was tedious, as well as scary as hell.

She rubbed some sleep from her eyes and reached for her phone. When she clicked it awake, the message notification winked at her from the top of the screen. When she saw who they were from, Sloane’s stomach twisted a little more. Three messages from Jess. What the fuck?

Lookslike you were having fun last night. I know what it means when you sing that song to someone in public. Who the hell is she? You’re not screwing the manager, are you? Because that’s below the line, even for you.

No sign off,no kiss.

Alarm slithered through Sloane like a rattlesnake. She rolled onto her back and held her phone in the air, stabbing Instagram to see if that held answers to Jess’s cryptic message. She was tagged in three stories. She stabbed again, but lost control of her phone. It fell and hit her on the nose.

“Ow!” That happened at least twice a week. She was surprised she hadn’t broken her nose. It smarted as she picked up her phone, but she ignored the pain.

There was an agreement in the team they wouldn’t post anything incriminating on any social channels. She braced as she clicked on the first story. It was of Nat’s song, Sloane singing the chorus, arms aloft. Nothing there.

But it was the next one that made her sit up. It was her singing the final chorus of her song, stood on a chair.

Sloane inhaled deeply. “Fucking hell.”

She hit the chorus and winced. She wasn’t a terrible singer, but she was no Adele, either.

However, it wasn’t the singing she was focused on. Whoever took this video was stood behind Ella and Lucy. During the final part of the chorus, Sloane’s gaze was focused solely in that direction.

Sloane gulped. Most people wouldn’t pick anything up from this. Jess wasn’t most people. She’d seen something. It was only now Sloane looked at herself, she could see it, too.

She took a lungful of air and put the phone in her lap. Her stomach nosedived.

She liked spending time with Ella, but she didn’t have energy or headspace for anything more. Ella felt the same. They were both job-focused. Nothing had happened. So why did she feel so guilty? Why was her mind already scrambling over mental rocks for something to tell Jess? She had nothing to refute. Yet it didn’t feel like that at all. As she watched the story through one more time, then again, then again, something that tasted very much like guilt crawled into her mouth.

She didn’t like cheaters.

She didn’t like being cheated on.

She hadn’t cheated.

She needed to remember that.

What if other players saw what Jess did? What if Lucy thought she liked her?

Sloane covered her eyes with her hand.

Even worse still: what if Ella was right at this second watching this story and realising the look in Sloane’s eyes. What if she’d seen it last night? Was that why she said no to coffee and hurried off?