The End
Sam’s outraged screams fade away in the 85th minute. She’s not giving up like the players seem to have but her throat has gone so sore after all the cursing following the denied equalizer in the 38th minute.
She longs to drown her disappointment in excessive alcohol but the guys are on ops she’s not allowed to know about. Everything would be different if they were here. Blade would pass her another beer and Malcolm would say all the right things to calm her down. Ditzy would make dry comments about the German players and even more about the English, drawing involuntary smiles. Jon would get royally pissed with her until neither of them can see straight and he couldn’t go home to Lester anymore.
And if Stephen was still… he would shag her into the next week as if sex could make everything else seem unimportant. He’d lure her and Tommy into bed with deceptively innocent smiles they never learned to resist…
The memory of how it used to be makes Sam clench her fist.
The anger would be gone by the time Stephen finally fell asleep, so heartbreakingly beautiful it would make Tommy’s reach out, gently brushing his fingers against Stephen’s cheek. He’d share a smile with Sam, letting her find rare peace in his strong arms, the only home she ever had…
She’s homeless now.
The silver-blue eyes watching her have no peace to offer. He hid her gun before the match but he doesn’t try to stop her when she punches the wall so hard that she must have fractured a few bones. He doesn’t tell her to get her hand checked out, he doesn’t hold her in a futile attempt at coming between her and the past.
He just leaves. Giving her space to break.