Scene 22

"It's absolutely cracking, is what it is! Bloody brill!"

Sam dropped the barbell onto the mat, wiping sweat off her brow.

Dillon stepped around her. "It is absolutely not bloody brill." She sank onto a weight bench. "Spot me, yeah?"

"So where'd you leave it?" Sam's obnoxious grin greeted her over the bar catch.

She'd been positively giddy, as Dillon expected, over the news of Kam's upcoming role. Sam was the only reason Dillon even knew what Sand Seekers was. The dystopian saga was practically a religion to the footballer. Dillon had always rolled her eyes when Sam got a chin-nod or thumbs-up from fellow fanatics when they spotted the tattooed mural on her calf depicting the apocalyptic tale.

Which was entirely why she'd dreaded this conversation all the way across the Atlantic ocean, admitting that— yes , it was that Kameryn Kingsbury —yes , the one who'd just been announced as the star in Sam's long-awaited film.

But now, she knew, the dialogue was about to take a sharp u-turn.

Where had she left it ?

She hadn't.

She'd walked away and left everything unresolved.

The shock of the announcement had stunned her. And then the growing realization of the magnitude of the news had sent her on a downward spiral.

She didn't dispute that she'd not handled it well.

After the brunch, they'd driven the six hours back to Los Angeles with hardly a word between them. Dillon had been searching for something to say, some way to explain, but every time she thought she'd found a segue, Kam was interrupted by another phone call. One after another, after another. Her agent. The studio. A publicist. Her friends. On and on.

It was a flashback to three years earlier when Kelsey had scored the winning goal in the UEFA Women's EURO final.

Only this was worse. So much worse. And it had only just begun.

She'd tried to find a way to tell her she was happy for her. To show her the support she deserved. But Dillon knew everything she said fell short. She wasn't good at pretending. And she knew Kameryn hadn't understood. This was her lifelong dream being realized, after all. This was everything she'd worked for—everything she'd planned. There was no question the role would fling open the doors to what would become a phenomenal career.

And Dillon was happy for her. She wanted Kam to find success. To have her dreams come true. She just… she'd made a mistake.

She should have left well enough alone. She should have dusted herself off on the road in Hana and never looked back. A year from now, she would have glanced at an advert on The Tube—she would have nudged Sam, Hey, that's the twit who hit me in Hawaii . And Sam would have blown her gasket that Reckless Driver Girl was starring in her favorite film. It would have been simple. It would have been humorous. And it would have been the end.

It wasn't as easy, now.

"I told her I'd call her. I needed to come home to think."

"Haddaway, man! You've got to be bloody fucking shitting me right now!" Sam jerked the bar from Dillon's hands and slammed it on the rack. "You just got on a plane and left?"

"Yes." Dillon sat up, staring at the mirror on the wall.

"You flew out there to see her. You shagged her. You spent Christmas with her family. And then you flipped out on what was probably the best news of her life and just jumped on a plane and left ?!" Sam flung herself onto a stack of barbell plates, clicking the blade of her prosthetic heel against the metal. "You really are every bit the tosser Kelsey says you are—"

"Go easy, mate," Dillon warned, but Sam brushed her off.

"No, man—you're an all-out twat. Did it ever cross your pea-sized brain how she might perceive that?"

"Of course it bloody did, Hunt! Don't act like I don't know how fucked up this all is!"

"It's got a familiar tune, doesn't it?" All of Sam's excitement had vanished, replaced with a lethal tone. This was none of her playful prodding. Her jesting efforts to get a rise. She was as angry as Dillon had ever seen her. "It's almost like you've sung this song before."

Dillon drew a shaky breath through her nose, then deliberately counted the length of her exhale, trying to relax the muscles that had tightened through her core. She didn't want to say something—do something—she would regret.

"Save it, Sam. I don't want to hear it." Kelsey had been Sam's teammate for years. They'd come up through the youth national team together. But after they split, Sam had stuck firmly by Dillon's side. Until now.

"You didn't want to hear it the last time you fucked someone over who didn't deserve it, either, did you?" Sam leveled, unwilling to back down. "Never is a proper convenient time to be told you are a selfish wanker—"

" Sam ." Dillon stood. "The movie thing's got you wound."

"The only thing that's got me wound is the fact that one of the people I love best in the world is a thoughtless bastard—"

"You don't even know this girl—"

"But I know you , Sinc! And I know a pattern when I see one. Fear's got the better of you, marra. You're so worried about all the things that could go wrong, you won't let anything go right. Instead, you just run away and slam the door. I'm starting to think you really are a coward—"

"You're blowing this out of proportion—"

"Am I?" Sam shoved herself off the stack of weights. "Then tell me where I'm wrong!"

"For one thing, I didn't run off . I told her I'd call—and I will. I just needed time to think."

"About what? It's all very obvious, Sinc! You caught feelings for her. There's no denying it. You flew all the way to the States—"

"I wouldn't have, had I known—"

"Had you known what? You already knew she was an actress. What did you expect?"

"I don't know! Not that !"

"So it was all okay as long as she was some D-list nobody, right? Kind of like how it was fine when Kelsey was just a no-name second-half sub, yeah? Everything's good as long as no one else finds success in their career."

"You damn well know it isn't that!"

"I don't know, man," Sam gave a cursory shrug, "seems like you don't mind the limelight when it's you standing on that podium. Maybe you just don't want someone standing beside you?"

"I swear to God, Sam—because you're my mate, I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. But if you ever—"

"If I ever what ?" Sam swooped up her towel with the blade of her leg, snatching it into her hand. "Call you out again for being an apathetic fuck? I'm sick of watching you throw away your chances. You think your life's so hard? You got the whole bloody world lying at your feet, and all you ever do is piss it away." She tried to grab her water bottle, but in her fury, struggled with her balance, and tipped it over, where it rolled out of reach. Without thinking, Dillon bent to gather it, but before she could, Sam punted it away. "Go on, then, Sinc. Shove your head in the sand and keep on running. But when you've chased off everyone else, don't come looking to me for sympathy."

Dillon said nothing as the click of Sam's uneven gait disappeared into the dressing room. For a horrible second, she felt like she might cry. But the sensation was fleeting. She hadn't cried in nine long years. She certainly wasn't going to start today. Instead, the only thing she really wanted to do was put her fist through the face staring back at her in the sweat-streaked mirror.