Liam sat on the bench at the edge of the training ground and picked up the rag.
He worked it across his face slowly, then folded it and pressed it against the back of his neck where the sweat had gathered the most, and stayed there for a moment with his elbows on his knees and his breathing finding its way back to something even.
The morning had been long already.
He reached for his phone on the bench beside him and turned the screen on.
He had called Tasha seven times.
He looked at the timestamps and counted them.
All from last night, from the window after he had seen her missed calls and texts and tried to get back to her. Seven outgoing calls, none of them answered, all of them sitting in the call log like small unanswered questions.
He opened the messages.
His texts to her were there, read receipts absent on all of them, the last one sitting at the bottom of the thread with no response beneath it.
He looked at the screen for a moment.
