All Chapters of OFFSIDE HEARTS: His Dr. Anchor : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

MayaThe heavy soundproof door of the stadium press room swings shut behind us, muting the roar of journalists into a dull thunder beyond the walls. Only then do I realize Ethan is still holding my hand.Heat lingers where his fingers wrap around mine, sending my pulse racing. "Ethan..." I whisper, trying to pull free. "Let go." His head turns sharply toward me. For a split second, surprise flashes across his face, as though he'd forgotten he was still holding on.He releases my hand immediately. "I'm sorry." The warmth disappears, leaving my fingers strangely cold. Before I can ask what possessed him to say those things in front of the entire country, the backstage door slams open.Chairman Alistair Vance storms into the corridor, his polished shoes striking the concrete like gunfire. Marcus rushes after him, looking as though he's aged ten years in the last five minutes. "Have you completely lost your mind?" Alistair barks. His finger shoots toward Ethan."I gave you one statement.

MayaThe luxury team bus is unusually quiet. Ethan stares out the rain-speckled window beside me, refusing to look in my direction. Every few seconds another player glances back at us before whispering to his teammate. I am here as part of Westbridge’s travelling performance and player-welfare staff, yet judging by the looks being thrown our way, no one has forgotten what happened at yesterday’s press conference.To the world, I am the brilliant doctor who tamed the league's wildest beast. But to these elite athletes, I am an outsider who just brought a massive media circus straight into their locker room.“Well, this is cozy.” Julian’s voice cuts through the low murmur of the bus.He stands from his seat a few rows ahead, that familiar smirk firmly back in place. He already knows he’ll be leading the line while Ethan starts on the bench."The captain brought his personal shrink on an away match," Julian mocks loudly, ensuring the entire squad can hear him. "Tell me, Dr. Bennett, doe

Ethan The final whistle echoes around the stadium. For a moment, I just stand there in the middle of the pitch, my lungs burning as sixty thousand voices crash over me like a tidal wave. The scoreboard reads 1–1. Not the victory we came for. But after the way the match started, a point feels almost like a rescue.A pair of arms suddenly crash around my shoulders. "That's my captain!" Ryan, our veteran center-back, nearly knocks me off balance before another teammate barrels into my side. "You saved us again.""I told you he'd score.""I owe you dinner, skipper." Laughter breaks through the exhaustion as the boys crowd around me. Someone shoves my head affectionately. Someone else punches my shoulder hard enough to sting. For the first time since the scandal exploded, nobody is talking about headlines. They're talking about football.Exactly how it should be.Across the pitch, the away supporters are still chanting my name. I clap both hands above my head before pointing toward them.

MayaHe reaches across the table. Before I realise what he's doing, his thumb brushes lightly across my cheekbone. I freeze. "You missed one," he murmurs. His voice is barely louder than the jazz floating through the restaurant. His thumb catches the last lingering raindrop on my skin. "I could have gotten it myself," I whisper.“I know.”But he doesn’t move his hand immediately. His thumb lingers against my cheek for a fraction longer than necessary, and my pulse quickens despite every attempt to remain unaffected.For those few seconds, I am painfully aware of how gentle his touch is, and how little it feels like part of the performance.Then, almost reluctantly, he lowers his hand.I look down at my wineglass, unsettled by how much I miss his touch the moment it is gone. That bothers me more than the cameras ever could. I know how to handle a performance. What I don't know is what to do when it stops feeling like one.“You’ve been staring at that glass for almost a minute.”The am

Ethan After a long moment, her voice breaks the silence, soft enough that I almost miss it. “You don’t have to tell me if you don't want to.” The words settle over the quiet interior of the car.I let out a slow breath, the fight draining from my shoulders before I can stop it.“She just…” My jaw tightens. “She reminds me of something I’d rather forget.” My fingers curl into my palm.“She taught me that people only stay when you’re useful.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “She knew about my father, Maya. She knew what it did to me growing up, always believing I had to perform well enough to give him a reason to stay.”I look away. “Then the first time I stopped being useful to her, s