“That’s the come down. It won’t last.”

Psycho’s phone buzzed. He checked the message and his freckled face lit up. “Hardo’s having a Sunday session. You keen?”

He needed sleep but it would be good to see the boys and get his mind off things. “You won’t tell him what I said about Eden?”

“I won’t say fuck all.”

His phone buzzed and he picked up expecting to see Derek’s message. Instead, it was a text from his manager, Royce.

Not looking good. Call you tomorrow morning.

“Fuck.”

Psycho looked up. “Problem?”

“Contract shit.”

Psycho grimaced but didn’t say anything. They were close, but hiring and firing was still taboo with footy players. There was always some sense that if you talked about your contract, you’d jinx yourself. But jinx or not, things weren’t looking good. For the past month, he and Royce had been in re-negotiations with The Hammers. At his age, he was on the tail end of what he could accomplish professionally, but he’d been hoping for at least two more years—even one. But Coach Murphy had never been his biggest fan, even before he’d kicked a ball directly into a camera during a live cross on Footy Tonight.

“Mate, you’re gonna get renewed. For sure.”

Psycho’s voice had all the conviction of a kid who’d stolen the last doughnut. Willow shoved his phone into his pocket. “Thanks.”

“And even if you don’t, you could go into commentating. You’re heaps funny.”

Willow grimaced. “Remember when I did that celebrity commentary for channel 7 and I said ‘dickhole’ twice?”

Psycho grinned. “I forgot about that.”

“No one else has.”

“Well, maybe you could do a podcast?”

Willow’s head throbbed. “Maybe. Let’s shower and head to Hardo’s, huh?”

He felt better after a hot shower, though nowhere near hungry enough to eat. Still, if he went to Derek’s, his fiancée, Mara, might be around and he could talk to her about Eden. She gave good advice and was a fuck of a lot nicer than Derek. He pulled on shorts and a denim shirt and checked Instagram. Two thousand likes, a hundred comments and—his stomach fell through the floor—a DM from Eden.

Hi! Thanks for the shout out. I’ve gotten a thousand followers already! It’s a shame you had to rush off last night. How’s your friend?

Willow sat on his bed, trying to digest the message. She cared he’d gone. She was asking about Psycho. She liked that he’d helped her gain followers. He looked at himself in the bedroom mirror, tousle-haired and red-faced. “Okay, Williams. You’ve got one chance. Don’t screw this up.”