Crossing Lines - a Lucy Bronze story

24: Forced to talk

The training facility was quiet as the team filed out after a grueling session. Lucy stayed behind, working through some stretches to loosen her stiff knee. Erin had avoided her all day—again—and it was starting to get to her. The tackle had only worsened the tension between them, and Lucy knew that avoiding the issue wouldn't make it go away.

As she sat on the bench, lost in her thoughts, the familiar sound of footsteps approached. She looked up to see the coach, Sonia Bompastor, standing over her, arms crossed with a stern expression on her face. Lucy immediately straightened, trying to shake off the weariness.

"Coach," she greeted, slightly wary of the serious look Sonia was giving her.

"Lucy," Sonia replied, her tone brisk. "Follow me. Now."

Lucy frowned, confused, but she didn't question it. Sonia Bompastor wasn't the kind of coach you argued with. She stood up, wincing slightly as her knee protested, and followed Sonia through the winding corridors of the facility. They passed the locker rooms, the recovery area, and headed toward one of the private meeting rooms usually reserved for team talks.

To her surprise, Erin was already there, sitting on the far side of the small room, her arms crossed and her expression tight. Lucy felt her stomach drop. This couldn't be good.

Sonia shut the door behind them, her voice taking on a no-nonsense tone. "Enough of this. Whatever is going on between you two is affecting the team, and it's unacceptable."

Lucy opened her mouth to protest, but Sonia held up her hand, silencing her. "I don't care what happened off the pitch. But on it, we need you two focused. You're important to this team, and we can't afford to have any distractions."

Lucy glanced at Erin, whose jaw was set in a firm line, her eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Sonia stepped back, her gaze sharp. "You're staying in this room until you've sorted it out. I don't care if it takes all night. When you walk out of here, you're going to act like professionals again."

Lucy felt a rush of panic as Sonia left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Erin shifted in her seat, her body language stiff, radiating discomfort.

"Great," Erin muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Just what I needed today."

Lucy exhaled slowly, trying to keep her own frustration in check. She didn't want this either, but Sonia was right—they couldn't keep letting this affect the team.

"We can't keep avoiding this, Erin," Lucy said quietly, breaking the silence. "It's affecting our game, and it's affecting the team."

Erin's eyes flashed, but she didn't immediately respond. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms tighter over her chest, her gaze fixed on the far wall. The tension in the room was unbearable.

"I don't even know what to say to you anymore," Erin finally said, her voice low, barely above a whisper. "I can't trust you, Lucy. I thought we were building something, and then... you went back to her."

The accusation in her words stung, and Lucy felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She had expected this, but hearing it aloud from Erin's lips made it feel even worse.

"I know I hurt you," Lucy said, her voice cracking slightly. "And I hate that I did. But you told me you needed space, and—"

"And you took that as permission to sleep with your ex?" Erin interrupted, her voice sharp now, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger.

Lucy winced at the bluntness of it. "It wasn't like that, Erin. I was confused. Ona and I have history, but that night... it didn't mean what you think it meant."

Erin let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "And what am I supposed to think, Lucy? You slept with her. What else is there to say?"

Lucy bit her lip, struggling to find the right words. She had already apologized, had already confessed everything, but nothing she said seemed to make a difference. The hurt between them felt insurmountable.

"I was lost," Lucy said softly, looking down at her hands. "I didn't know what I wanted. I still don't fully know, but I care about you, Erin. I really do. I don't want to lose you."

Erin's expression softened for a split second, but then her walls went up again. "Caring about me isn't enough, Lucy. Not after everything."

The silence that followed felt heavier than before, the weight of their words hanging between them. Lucy stared at the floor, her heart sinking. Maybe Erin was right. Maybe there was nothing she could say that would fix this.

Then, in the awkwardness of the quiet, their hands brushed.

It was accidental—Lucy had shifted slightly in her chair, and Erin's hand had been resting on the edge of the table between them. The brief, electric touch sent a jolt through both of them, and they immediately pulled back, eyes wide, as if they'd both been shocked.

Lucy's heart pounded in her chest, and she saw the same startled reaction on Erin's face. For a split second, it felt like the air between them had changed—like all the anger and tension had been replaced by something else entirely. Something raw, unspoken.

But just as quickly as the moment arrived, it was gone. Erin pulled back, her face flushing as she looked away, her guard slamming back into place.

Lucy swallowed hard, her own skin tingling from the contact. She couldn't deny the chemistry between them, the connection that had been there from the start. But that didn't change the fact that she had hurt Erin deeply.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," Lucy whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I can't take it back. I can only tell you how sorry I am, and hope that... maybe we can find a way to move forward."

Erin didn't respond immediately. Her eyes were fixed on the table, her expression unreadable. Lucy could see the conflict in her—anger, hurt, confusion. It mirrored her own emotions, twisting her up inside.

The silence stretched on, and for a moment, Lucy wondered if Erin would say anything at all.

Then, Erin took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of it all had finally gotten to her. "I don't know if we can, Lucy. I don't know if I can trust you again."

Lucy's chest tightened at the words. "But do you want to try?"

Erin looked at her then, her eyes meeting Lucy's with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. There was so much unspoken between them, so much left unresolved. But in that moment, Lucy saw a flicker of something in Erin's gaze—something that gave her a glimmer of hope.

"I don't know," Erin said quietly, her voice cracking slightly. "But maybe we need to start by being honest with each other. Really honest."

Lucy nodded, her throat tight. It wasn't a solution, but it was a step—a small step toward something better.