CHAPTER 146: SUPPORT FROM THE COUCH.

After the whole exchange of greetings, Leo was just about to settle into his seat when the cafeteria doors opened, and Dawson stepped in.

The coach’s eyes scanned the room before landing on him.

Instantly, Leo pushed back his chair and got to his feet, moving toward Dawson with a quick stride.

"Welcome back," Dawson said, extending his hand.

Leo clasped it firmly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Good to see you too, coach."

As Dawson nodded, Nolan passed behind him, cup of coffee in hand.

"Good to see you as well," Leo added, and Nolan raised the cup slightly, a silent acknowledgement that made Leo grin with a little shake of his head.

Dawson looked Leo up and down, like he was sizing him up, and one thing he noticed was that Leo had gained a few pounds.

"Seems like they fed you well at least," Dawson said as he wore an expression most coaches used when a player was finally returning after time away.

"We’ve heard about you making waves," he said, voice carrying just enough for the surrounding players to catch on.

Leo shook his head, chuckling.

"It’s just Italian media propaganda, looking for someone to blame. Nothing more."

A few of the boys chuckled, but Whatmough threw his head back and shouted across the cafeteria, "We don’t care!"

Laughter rippled through the room as Dawson allowed a small smile to cross his face before giving Leo a slight push with his hand toward the food.

"Go eat. Recovery session in an hour."

Leo nodded, keeping the grin as he turned and weaved back through the tables toward Ezra and Jake.

Jake was already hunched over his plate, having demolished a couple of whole-grain loaves, crumbs scattered across the table like evidence of a serious morning appetite.

Quarter to an hour later, the cafeteria chatter began fading as the players filed toward the recovery area beside the training complex.

The session had a slower, purposeful pace, legs stretched, muscles eased, a few quiet laughs interspersed with the occasional groan when someone went too far in a stretch, or someone getting a message was getting too into it.

Jake walked beside Leo and Ezra for a few moments, though his mood was clearly off.

When Thompson’s call came through, summoning him to the U21 training session, Jake groaned audibly.

"Really?" he muttered, looking at Leo with a mock pout.

Still, he went, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading off, leaving Leo with the others.

Once Jake had gone, the recovery drills continued, Leo moving through the exercises with steady focus, already getting into the groove.

He glanced around at his teammates, Tilt adjusting a band around his thigh, Cousins humming softly as he worked on stretches, and a few others just chatting lightly while they moved through their warm-downs.

But something still felt out of place, before it hit it.

"Where’s Fletcher?" Leo asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched the familiar gap in the group.

Tilt shook his head.

"Down with the flu. He’s out for today," he said as Ian let out a chuckle from nearby.

"He won’t hear the end of it when he comes back," he said, smirking at Leo as they ran through a set of mobility exercises.

The comment earned a few nods and chuckles from the others as, eventually, time began to slip by.

As the final cooldown ended, Leo gathered his things and separated from Ezra, who was lingering to chat with a few of the older players.

Leo adjusted his bag and started walking across the complex, his thoughts on the conversation he wanted to have.

After getting to the door, he raised a hand and knocked, the sound crisp against the quiet of the hallway.

"Come in," Dawson said from inside.

Leo pushed the door open and stepped into the office, which always felt a bit colder than the rest of the building for some reason.

He took the seat across from Dawson, who was still sorting through a few papers before finally looking up.

"So," Dawson said, leaning back slightly, "what brings you here?"

Leo took a breath.

"I wanted to ask if I could go back to Manchester this afternoon. If there’s no training session, I mean."

"There is one," Dawson replied, "but you can skip it."

Leo blinked. "Are you sure?"

Dawson nodded.

"You’re not playing against Blackpool, so there’s no need to push you today."

Leo opened his mouth, ready to respond, but he shut it just as quickly.

He wasn’t expecting to play, but hearing it come out so easily out of Dawson’s mouth rubbed him the wrong way.

He still settled for a quiet, "Alright. Thanks, coach," before he got up, gave Dawson a small nod, and slipped out of the room.

Back in Manchester, home felt different the moment he stepped into the warm flat.

It wasn’t huge, but it was homey.

Mia was sitting on the edge of the couch, her new bag placed in a patch of sunlight near the window.

She held it up a little, admiring it the way most people treated brand new things before they decided to toss them out after not using them.

"They said school’s going to be a dead day," she said. "No classes, no activities. So I stayed home."

Leo nodded as he took off his jacket after feeling a bit hot.

"Makes sense."

She tilted the bag to catch the light again before turning toward him.

"Thank you. Really."

"You deserve the best," Leo said simply before he walked past her and set his keys on the table.

"Now come on. Help me out so we can surprise Sofia with our own cooked meal."

Mia brightened immediately. "Okay."

....

Two days later, Leo was stretched out on the sofa when his phone buzzed.

Carlo had sent a short voice note telling him to come over so they could watch the weekend games together.

Leo ignored it at first as he wasn’t in the mood for company, and he didn’t feel like listening to Carlo’s commentary on every misplaced pass in the Championship just because he sometimes got to play in the Premier League.

But a few minutes later, he sighed, grabbed his jacket, and headed for Carlo’s apartment anyway.

Since he was already in Manchester, it didn’t take long for him to get to Carlo’s place.

Carlo opened the door with a grin.

"Good. You actually came. I thought you’d pretend you didn’t see my message."

Leo shrugged and stepped inside.

"I considered it."

Carlo laughed as he closed the door behind them.

"The World Cup starts after this weekend, you know. Still feels weird. We could’ve been there. Both of us."

He let out a slow sigh, the kind that came from imagining something too many times.

Leo glanced over at him.

"You, maybe. Me? No chance."

Carlo raised a brow.

"You really think you wouldn’t have made the senior team?"

"I’m not going to overrate myself," Leo said as he dropped onto the couch, tossing his shirt over it, leaving him in only his white shirt and jeans.

"I’ll only rate myself when I’ve played against the best, and I do not think I have done so currently."

Carlo studied him for a second, then nodded.

"Fair enough."

They tuned in to the Wigan vs. Blackpool match just as the food arrived, with the smell of fried chicken and chips filling the living room almost instantly.

In the game on the screen, Wigan started strong, pushing Blackpool back in the opening minutes, but in the fifteenth minute, an unlucky bounce from a deflected cross slipped past their keeper.

Carlo burst into laughter.

"Your boys look sharp today," he said after the goal, while Leo gave him a flat look and took a sip of his drink.

Five minutes later, Wigan won a penalty from a stroke of luck as one of the Blackpool defenders handled the ball as Will Keane stepped up and buried it.

Leo smirked while Carlo groaned into his food.

After that, the match lost its spark.

Passes slowed, and chances dried up.

Carlo stretched out his legs and muttered, "There’s really nothing going on. Championship football is killing me."

Leo didn’t pay any mind to him and just kept watching the game that started becoming painful to watch as tackles began flying left and right.

Then, his attention sharpened again when the fourth official lifted the board in the eighty-seventh minute.

He clapped once. "Ezra’s coming on."

Carlo looked over. "Who’s that?"

"A friend," Leo answered, leaning forward a bit as Ezra sprinted onto the pitch.

Against tired defenders, Ezra’s fresh legs immediately caused trouble.

He chased a long ball, forced a veteran centre-back into a rushed clearance, and won a corner.

The delivery swung in perfectly, and Whatmough rose highest and hammered it into the net.

The home crowd erupted while Leo, in Carlo’s living room, shot to his feet.

"Yes!"

Carlo couldn’t help but laugh, even as he shook his head at the chaos on screen, and Leo couldn’t stop smiling.

"Football is the only thing that gets this guy excited," Carlo muttered as he watched Leo sing about going to the Premier League, the euphoria of the goal still lingering even after the game ended.