That wasn’t viral.
That was everywhere.
Every fan. Every coach. Every executive.
Every person who already thought cheerleaders were expendable, replaceable, lucky to be here at all.
My breaths came sharp and uneven, like my body had forgotten how to do it right.
How had I not seen this coming? How had I not realized what it could turn into?
I knew the answer before I let myself say it.
Braden.
I’d been so wrapped up in him — the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, the way everything else in my life seemed to blur when I was with him — that I hadn’t been paying attention to anything else.
My chest tightened.
Braden.
Oh, God.
This wasn’t just about me. This was about the possibility of us that we’d been flirting with ever since my birthday, since we’d both floated away on a glitter cloud of bliss and pretended like nothing could touch us, like we were safe.
The rules we’d already been bending felt like they were about to snap.
If the organization was already looking at me differently — already questioning my judgment, my loyalty — what would happen if they found out about us, too?
Somewhere in the midst of my meltdown, I was hauled up off the floor by two cold, small hands. I recognized them distantly. They belonged to our assistant coach.
I floated with her out of the room, past the locker room, straight down the hall, and to Claire’s office.
Only when I saw Braden and the head coach of the team sitting there with her did I snap back to reality.
My eyes found Braden’s first, and we shared a look of mutual destruction — the longing to go to each other, the pain of knowing we couldn’t.
His hands were wrung tightly in his lap, his left knee bouncing.
It had already reached us.
Somehow, it had already gone past the point of no return.
I managed to tear my gaze from his, sitting in the chair I was instructed to sit in. The door shut behind us. Claire steepled her fingers on her desk, sharing a look with Coach Palmer before she attempted a tight smile and spoke.
“Emily,” she began carefully, “we’ve been monitoring the clip from your podcast interview.”
My stomach turned.
“It wasn’t a major issue at first,” Coach Palmer added, leaning forward, forearms braced on his knees. “Clips like that circulate all the time. They flare up, then die out.”
Claire nodded. “But this morning, it was picked up by several major outlets. That changes things.”
My pulse thudded in my ears, heart cracking right down the middle.
I’d been so close…
After weeks of recovering from the injury, of rehab and PT. I was finally back at practice. I was finally going to be on the field again.
