Page 171 of With the Assist

I freeze. “You knew that?”

He shrugs. “People talk.”

Wyatt leans back, incredulous. “So, let me get this straight. She chose you over the biggest opportunity of her career, defended you to your parents like she was ready to throw hands, and you’re… what? Testing her?”

“I’m not testing her,” I snap. “I’m giving us space.”

“For what?” Liam asks. “To overthink yourselves back into misery?”

My jaw works. God, they are fucking persistent.

“She didn’t pick me at first.”

“And she owned it,” Wyatt says. “Then showed up anyway.”

Grayson’s voice is quieter now. “Nathan, you’re going to blow it playing scared.”

If it were Liam, I could shake it off, but despite his current single status, Grayson knows more about stable relationships than anyone else in this room. His last one lasted two years before they called it off.

I look down at the sling and the way my fingers flex uselessly against the fabric. “She has her first game of the season tomorrow. It’s like a cup game for last year's top two teams.”

Wyatt’s head whips up. “Are you going?”

“No.”

“You’re so fucking dumb,” Liam says through his mouthful of pizza.

Grayson frowns. “You’re seriously not planning to be there?”

I don’t answer fast enough.

Wyatt throws his hands up. “Unbelievable. You want her to prove she won’t run, but you won’t even show up when it actually matters.”

“That’s different,” I argue.

“How?” Liam presses. “Wesley doesn’t seem like the type to wait around forever. She chose you. Choose her back or be done with it.”

Grayson crosses his arms. “Do the damn thing, Wilder.”

Silence stretches.

They’re all looking at me like they already know the answer and are waiting for me to catch up.

I swallow, then slowly lift my head.

“Fuck, okay.” I sit up, sliding the plate off my lap. “I have an idea.”

47

Wesley

By the time the whistle blows for halftime, my lungs are burning, and my legs feel like they’re humming. I’m balanced in the sweet spot where exhaustion and adrenaline overlap and everything sharpens instead of dulls.

We’re only up by a goal, but she was a beauty.

Avery put it in the top corner with my assist.

We jog toward the sideline as a unit, jerseys clinging to our bodies, which have long since forgotten the chill still in the air. The sweat is cooling fast against my skin.