CHAPTER NINETEEN
6 February 2011“Nervous?” Kenny’s voice floated to my ears and I looked up from the ground to see him standing in front of me.
The stands were empty behind him. Stamford Bridge was empty except for the squads and employees. In only a few minutes they would start letting fans in. And shortly after that, I would be forced to face him.
In all actuality, I could be forced to face him right now. He could walk down the tunnel and turn to the wrong seats. He could come to stand in front of me and simply ask me to forgive him.
And I would.
I took a deep breath before answering Kenny honestly. I had no energy to pretend anymore. It had only been a week without Fernando and I felt like it had been a year. A year of not getting over him.
“Yes,” I finally answered. Kenny took a seat next to me. It hadn’t been the first time I’d sat on the away side at Stamford Bridge, but it was the first time I’d dreaded it this much.
“How do you think he feels?”
“I don’t really care how he feels,” I answered without looking at him, even though it was a lie. I just didn’t know how well Kenny actually knew me.
“You are a terrible liar, Lana,” he chuckled lightly, placing a hand on mine. “I have known you since you got here. I have admired your drive since you got here. I have admired your caring nature since you got here.”
I looked up at him, a little surprised that he was saying this to me. We had never talked much until he came on as manager. He continued.
“I know when you’re happy. I know when you’re frustrated. I know that you’re in love with a Spanish striker, even if you don’t.” Then he placed a hand on my face in a very fatherly gesture. “And I know when you’re sick.”
“I’m not in love and I’m not sick,” I said, voice small. My eyes darted away from his.
It suddenly seemed terribly silent in Stamford Bridge. My heart was pounding, but I couldn’t even hear that. I ventured a looked back at him. He laughed before looking at me seriously again.
“I know you’re hurt by Fernando leaving, but don’t shut him out completely. He had his reasons,” he looked at me intently. I looked away, rolling my eyes slightly in a show of trying to pretend I didn’t care about Fernando’s reasons. “You both are trying to protect each other. Talk to him. Open up to him. Maybe he’ll do the same.”
“Fernando knows everything about me,” I shook my head, casting my eyes toward the tunnel and the opposite bench.
“Does he know about the chemo medication in your training bag? Or that you were diagnosed over three months ago? Does he know that you have resigned to trying to die alone instead of admitting to anyone that you’re scared of this disease?”
A tear crept down my cheek and I hung my head. I didn’t know how Kenny knew. I didn’t care how Kenny knew. I knew Emma wouldn’t have told him. I wasn’t sure about Steven but it didn’t matter.
“No,” I sighed. “How long have you known?”
“Long enough. Give him a chance. Both of you need to stop hiding things from each other.”
With that he stood up and walked back down the tunnel. I sat for a while longer before I noticed fans were beginning to fill the stands. It was time to get myself together. It was time to think about the team.
*****
I stood outside the dressing room, wringing my hands. I watched as the squad slowly made their way out and toward the tunnel where they’d wait to be led out by the referees.
Standing in the dressing room for Kenny’s pregame talk, I had barely paid any attention. Instead I’d been thinking about what I was going to do. I’d come to the conclusion almost a month ago, in a drunken stupor. But now that Fernando had left, it just made it that much clearer to me.
I couldn’t go on pretending. And that meant that I couldn’t go on with my position at the club. I knew I had to quit. Not because I was trying to protect anyone, but because I was sick. And I had to take care of myself.
Chelsea players made their way from their dressing room at the same time. I was aware of the movement behind me but I didn’t want to turn in case I came face to face with him.
But as I watched my players, I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I knew immediately that it wasn’t Fernando. I could tell. But I still chose not to turn until the owner of the hand spoke.
“Kennedy,” he said, taking his hand from my shoulder. I spun slowly. I didn’t want to face him either. I’d never wanted to face him.
“Terry,” I said, attempting to keep the disdain from my voice.
“Good to see you again,” he gave me an awkward smile before holding his hand out. I took it skeptically. This was not the John Terry I was used to. I was used to him being a complete creeper. I was used to him trying to unnerve me. But he simply shook my hand and walked away. And I stared after him, completely dumbfounded, barely noticing the freckled Spaniard who glanced my way.
*****
I jumped up from the bench and made my way to the tunnel. Liverpool had just beat Chelsea at Stamford Bridge. After the season we’d had, this was huge. I cast a glance toward Steven as he walked off the field and saw him shaking Fernando’s hand. They had been friends. I hoped it could stay that way. Fernando needed them.
I smiled slightly to myself as I turned back around. The tunnel was always a madhouse of people. I’d been caught up in the tide of movement before, with coaches, players and refs not seeing me.
“Miss Kennedy.”
I had just entered the tunnel when I heard my name. I looked up to see a grey-haired Italian man standing before me. His demeanor was calm, but I knew that losing to us had been unacceptable.
“Mr. Ancelotti,” I greeted him, shaking his hand. “Well-played match. I look forward to meeting again.”
“I see you’ve learned to bullshit with the rest of them,” he smiled. “We were not top class today and your squad got the better of us.”
“It’s not my squad, Mr. Ancelotti. It’s Kenny Dalglish’s squad.”
“Torres has told me the role you play in that club. You are well on your way to breaking a lot of barriers for women in this sport.”
“Well, thank you sir. But I’m just here to do my job and do it well.”
“As you should be, young lady. Good luck.”
*****
“So what do you think you’re going to do?” Emma asked. She hadn’t traveled for this match.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I can’t just give up. I like Kenny, I really do. But my heart isn’t in it.”
I was trying to break this to her easy. It wasn’t a lie. My heart wasn’t in coaching anymore. My heart was completely in the hands of the man that had broken the hearts of millions of Liverpool fans worldwide.
So far, I’d only managed to tell her that I wasn’t sure if I could keep going at the club. She was surprisingly supportive.
“What about another club?”
“Who else would take me? Liverpool only took me because of my father’s connections.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Lana Kennedy. Fulham would take you in a heartbeat. Dempsey would probably love having another American around. And by the sound of it, Ancelotti was seeing how loyal you are to Liverpool. I think you could move to any club you set your mind to. Serie A or La Liga even.”
I jumped as I heard a knock on the door. I hoped whoever it was didn’t mind me in sweats and a tank top. I hoped it wasn’t someone crazy.
“Em I need to go. Someone’s knocking on my door.”
“Watch out for stalkers baby girl,” she laughed.
“If by stalker you mean Steven Gerrard unable to fold his own clothes, I’ll be careful.”
“What did he do before Alex?”
“No idea,” I laughed. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
I ended the call just before opening the door. I rolled my eyes at the thought of what Steven could possibly want me to do now. But as I pulled the door open, it was not Steven’s face I was greeted with.
“Fernando?” I exclaimed as I opened the door.
He looked like he’d been crying. His eyes were red and his hair was a mess. He stared at me, his gaze empty. And suddenly his arms were wrapped around me as he pressed his lips against mine.
*****
His hands wandered my body. His touch was light at first, like a feather dancing over my skin. But as his kiss became more desperate, so did his touch. He gripped me tightly and I winced at the burning sensation on my side.
He lifted me off the ground and carried me to the hotel bed. When he’d nearly thrown me on it, he followed. I couldn’t bring myself to push him away. And so I allowed his lips to press violently against mine, returning his aggression with my own force.
I was torn. I was a sucker for Fernando; there was no denying that. But he was so rough and so desperate. My lips battled his. It was nothing like the first kiss we’d shared, and I could taste the alcohol on his tongue.
I pulled back as his hand wandered between my legs and roughly teased me through my sweats.
“Easy, Fernando,” I whispered. “Slow down.”
And he did as I instructed. His touch once again became tender. He was gentle and light. His lips grazed my neck and it took my breath away just like it always did. But it didn’t last long. Soon he was pawing roughly at my skin again. His lips were pressing desperately onto mine.
I pushed at him, but he didn’t take the hint. Instead he pressed harder, letting more of his wait crush me into the bed. Finally I mustered the strength.
“Stop it!” I heaved him off me and rolled away from him.
“Now what? I thought you wanted this.”
“Yes. No! Not like this Fernando! You’re drunk.”
“I think I deserve to get drunk. And after being rejected by you, maybe I’ll just drink myself to next week.”
“Because it must be so hard to be Fernando Torres.”
“I don’t know if you noticed,” he shot, standing up. “But I just lost a whole lot of fans and friends. In addition to losing my girlfriend.”
“Maybe you should have seen that coming when you completely turned your back on the club that loved you. How long had you been plotting to leave without telling anyone? How long had you been lying to me about your loyalty to us? About how much you loved us?”
“I didn’t turn my back on the club, Lana. The club turned their back on me. I’ve always been loyal to Liverpool. I am still loyal to Liverpool.”
“Oh please!” I exclaimed, making my way to the door.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Steven knew for a month that I was going to leave. So did Kenny. So don’t act like they’re innocent,” he fumed. “So is this about me leaving the club? Or is it about me leaving you?”
“They’re one in the same, Fernando,” I said, opening the door and nodding for him to leave. My voice had lowered. I was attempting to remain calm. “I thought you loved… us.”
Fernando walked toward the door and came to a stop right in front of me. His eyes were full of, what was it? Was it remorse? I wanted to tell him my secret, but I wouldn’t tell him like this.
“I
do love you,” he sighed before turning and walking away. I let the door close behind him, unsure of whether he meant he loved the club or me.
A/N: Short update, but you deserve one... I'll try to update more often
