Harbinger Of Glory

Dawson leaned back in his chair and glanced at the schedule pinned beside his desk.

It wasn’t much, but as he looked ahead, he could see the short break they had gotten before their next game, which would take place in the FA Cup against Luton Town FC.

He tapped the edge of the desk once, then frowned.

”Has Leo checked in yet?”

Nolan, seated opposite him with a tablet balanced on his knee, did not even look up.

”You gave him the day off,” he said. ”You signed it yourself.”

Dawson blinked, then let out a short breath and slapped his palm against his forehead.

”Jesus. That’s on me.”

Nolan finally looked up, faintly amused.

”Happens.”

”Still,” Dawson said, rolling his chair back and spinning once before stopping himself with a foot.

”Let the staff know to keep an eye out anyway. If he shows up, I want to know. Straight away.”

Nolan nodded.

”I’ll pass it on.”

Dawson leaned back again, staring at the ceiling this time.

”It’s funny,” he muttered. ”Even when things are going right, it never feels easy.”

Before Nolan could reply, the office door snapped open.

Dawson turned sharply as his assistant stepped inside, slightly out of breath.

”Boss,” he said. ”Three board members just called ahead.”

Dawson raised an eyebrow. ”What do they want? Was it today?”

”Thirty minutes,” the assistant replied. ”They didn’t say why, but they said they will be here in half an hour.”

”Nothing at all?”

The assistant shook his head. ”Just said they’d be here.”

Dawson nodded once, already pushing himself to his feet.

”Get the small conference room ready.”

The assistant turned and was gone as quickly as he had arrived.

Dawson remained standing for a moment, hands on his hips, staring at the closed door. ’

Then he sat back down slowly.

”Please don’t be this again,” he muttered. ”Not like last time. I’m not playing academy politics.”

He exhaled, rubbed his face once, while Nolan smirked at his friend’s frantic actions.

....

”Come when you’re done.”

Sofia’s voice carried softly across the cemetery, calm and unhurried.

A beat passed before Leo looked up and then nodded.

”Don’t get all sobby,” Mia added from somewhere behind her. ”And hurry up, or we’ll leave you here.”

Leo chuckled under his breath and shook his head as Sofia and Mia took a path out of the cemetery.

He stood alone now, the noise of the city distant, muffled by rows of stone, winter trees and birds chirping lively.

In front of him were two headstones, clean and simple.

Lucio Calderón.

Laia Calderón.

He rested his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and looked down at them, breathing in slowly.

”Things are going well,” he said quietly. ”Really well.”

He shifted his weight, eyes lingering on his father’s name.

”Five goals. Three assists. In the Championship.”

A soft, almost disbelieving laugh escaped him.

”Can you believe that?”

He crouched slightly, lowering himself closer without fully kneeling.

”I won’t cry today,” he went on.

”We’re doing good. Mia’s getting a bit sassy, but I’ll live with it.”

His smile thinned, but it stayed.

”She’s loud now. You’d laugh.”

Behind him, the place got extremely quiet, almost intimate, as Leo stared up, the sky suddenly looking beautiful for him.

”I miss you,” he said. ”Both of you.” His voice dipped, steadier than he expected.

”I love you.”

For a moment, he said nothing else.

Then, barely above a whisper, ”See you again.”

Leo straightened, took one last look, and turned away.

The path back was narrow, gravel crunching softly beneath his sneakers.

Sofia waited by the car at the top, arms folded, before waving at him, telling him to hurry up.

Mia, on the other hand, getting tired of waiting, immediately opened the back door and slipped inside after spotting Leo coming out.

.....

[Wigan Conference Room]

Dawson had barely settled into his chair when the door opened again.

Three men stepped in together, coats still on, that familiar air of quiet authority clinging to them.

Board members.

The ones who had said they would come, and actually had.

Dawson rose halfway out of courtesy, shook hands all around, then sat back down as they took the seats opposite him.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Dawson reached for his bottle, took a slow sip, and set it back down.

To him, the room felt smaller than it had a minute ago, but he did not let his thoughts show.

Three pairs of eyes stayed on him before it got weird, and so Dawson broke the silence.

”Well,” he said eventually, leaning back.

”You’re here. Floor’s yours.”

The two men on either side glanced toward the one in the middle.

He did not return the look right away.

He just stared ahead, fingers interlocked, then cleared his throat.

”I received a call earlier today,” he said, straight to the point.

Dawson raised an eyebrow without meaning to as his mind jumped ahead of the words.

Harris, you little shit.

The thought came with a faint, reluctant smile that barely touched his face.

”From the club’s director of football,” the man continued. ”It was... an enquiry.”

Dawson sighed before he could stop himself.

Not loudly.

Just enough to show he already knew where this was going.

The man paused, noticing it and then went on with it.

”Manchester United contacted us this morning. They’ve expressed interest in Leo Calderon.”

That did it.

The sigh made sense now.

Dawson leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees.

He did not interrupt.

He let the man finish.

”They’re proposing to take him back to Manchester,” the board member said.

”They talked about how it was very expensive overlooking by one of their staff, who they had fired a while ago, but they would reimburse us for our troubles.”

”The offer stands at seventeen million pounds. Alongside that, two of their academy prospects would be included, with the option for one player of your choosing to join us after a loan for a year.”

Silence returned, heavier this time.

Dawson stared at them, flexing his jaw slightly while keeping his eyes on the men seated in front of him.

The annoyance was there, clear enough, but he didn’t voice it.

It sat behind his eyes, mixed with something else.

Something like a hint of defiance, and it was clear for them to see whether they liked it or not.

The man in the middle let out a short laugh and lifted a hand.

”Now, on a normal day,” he said, ”I would be pushing for this deal without hesitation. It’s good money. Sensible money.”

He shifted in his seat.

”But this doesn’t feel like a normal day.”

The two beside him nodded faintly.

”For what Leo is showing,” the man continued, ”for the trajectory he’s on, seventeen million feels like Manchester United trying to get ahead of the curve. The value might be far higher in the near future.”

Dawson stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the table.

”So,” the board member said, ”we came here to ask you something directly. You brought the boy in. You see him every day. You oversee his development. We want to know if you believe in that potential enough for us to walk away from what’s right in front of us.”

He folded his hands again.

”Most of the board shares that sentiment.”

Then he stopped talking, sending the room into a waiting tone.

Dawson felt the weight of it settle on his shoulders.

The irritation he’d felt earlier softened, twisting into something more complicated.

Confusion, maybe.

Respect, certainly.

They had not forced his hand.

They had not dressed it up as an order.

They wanted his judgment.

And so he looked up, meeting their eyes one by one.

”What do you think?” Dawson said.

The man in the middle blinked, then nodded.

Once.

Twice.

And then a third time, but much slower this time.

”Very well.”

He stood, and the others followed suit.

”We’ll take your word for it,” he said. ”For now.”

They shook hands again, politely and professionally, before they moved towards the door.

As the door closed behind them, Dawson stayed where he was, staring at the empty space they had left behind.

After a beat, he shook his head and muttered, ”They could’ve just called.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes lifting to the ceiling before sighing a bit.

”I need a vacation or something,” he uttered before rising to his feet and then leaving the room.