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Fear streaked through Sloane. She’d been at this junction before in games, where she’d thought everything was lost. She’d turned it around numerous times in her life. She wasn’t giving up on Ella that easily. This was not how they ended.

“What happened with Jess was my fault. I’ve told you that. But I need you to know, I want to hold your hand in public now. The reasons for not doing it backfired spectacularly on international break. I was stupid. I want to be not stupid from now on. I’m not going anywhere, Ella.”

But Ella shook her head. “For now. What happens when you leave at the end of the season? You never want to think long-term, Sloane. I have to. Maybe that’s why we should cut our losses.”

* * *

The lookon Lucy’s face told Sloane all she needed to know. They had five league games left, and Sloane hadn’t scored in the last two. More than that, she still wasn’t on her game. Only seven points split the top three, with everything still to play for. The problem? They weren’t gaining ground.

Things still weren’t resolved with Ella, and they weren’t going well with her game.

Sloane was not fulfilling her end of the bargain.

Tonight’s FA Cup semi-final was crucial to their season, and after extra-time, it was 1-1. Sloane had missed an easy strike that would have won the match.

Nat’s parents had told her they’d come, but they hadn’t turned up. She’d scuffed a shot, and hit the corner flag with her next effort. It was only Layla getting a tap-in that had kept them in the tie, along with Becca having the game of her life.

The team gathered on the sidelines, the crowd humming with anticipation and frustration. They’d been the better team. They should have won in 90 minutes. When Sloane glanced right, she could see the supporters still in scarves, even though it was April. She was boiling, but that’s because she’d played 120 minutes of soccer and somehow failed to score. She was going to put it right on penalties. She was up first.

Lucy made sure she got eye contact with her and all the penalty takers before she spoke. “This is still all to play for. This is season-defining. Go out there and score for us all. Make sure that all the effort we’ve put into getting this far in the campaign was worth it. We want to get to the final at Wembley, don’t we?”

The huddle broke. The referee had the ball. Layla, the team captain, lost the toss, which meant Rovers had to shoot first. Sloane strode across the grass with purpose. She was shooting into the away end, something she’d done a thousand times before. Behind the goal, supporters waved their arms to try to put her off. But Sloane had practised. She knew what she was doing. Low and hard into the bottom right corner. She eyed the keeper. Took a deep breath, then five steps backwards.

Then, all of sudden, a movie of her recent practise misses started to play in her mind.

Over the bar.

Wide of the right post.

Straight at the keeper.

What the actual fuck?

She closed her eyes, then refocused. She could do this. She did it every day. Even though yesterday, she’d missed eight times. Eight times, two days in a row.

Did Ella still want her?

Focus!

She gulped, exhaled, ran up, hit the ball.

She knew as soon as it left her foot it was over the bar. She had a sixth sense where the goal was. Today, it wasn’t where she’d put the ball.

The wind whipped around her face.

The crowd behind the goal went wild.

Her stomach sank without a trace. Right through the ground. To the galaxy below. She wanted to stop the world, and jump off. She wanted to be anywhere but here. Sloane was a big-game player. This was not what she did.

She ground her teeth together, then trudged slowly back to her teammates. She couldn’t look at the bench. Didn’t want to see the disappointment on their faces. Or those of Cathy, Rich, Ryan and Hayley, who were somewhere in the stands.

All here to see her fail.

Sloane didn’t fail. But she was failing in every area of her life right now.

Maybe it was a blessing that her family never came to games.

When she arrived at her teammates, Nat was the first to hug her.