Page 22 of With the Assist

“That time, Miller,” he calls without turning back, “I wasn’t talking about training.”

My cheeks flush as I watch him walk away with a confident swagger that screams of a man who’s used to getting what he wants.

I’m about to force myself back into drills when a voice drifts down from the bleachers.

“Interesting visitor you had.”

I stiffen.

Coach Bennett stands halfway down the bleachers. Her blond hair is pulled back in a tight braid. She looks like she came straight from a meeting, but could start into a sprint without warning. Most people assume she’s a player heading to drills, not the coach who spends the afternoon in meetings.

I drag my bag over and meet her halfway up. There’s no point in pretending my session isn’t over now.

“He seemed friendly,” she says, her eyebrows raised while she watches me carefully. “Nathan Wilder, right?”

“We met at the award gala,” I say quickly. “Nothing to talk about.”

Her brows lift. “Nothing? He looked very interested, and you didn’t exactly chase him off the field with a broom.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Shame.”

I blink. “Shame?”

“A little distraction would be good for you.”

My frown deepens.

She softens her stance, voice gentle but firm. “Wesley, you’re twenty-five. You have more talent than most of this league, but you’re going to burn yourself out.”

“I’m not…”

“You’re here six days a week. Sometimes seven. We aren’t even in season. You train harder than my entire roster combined. That dedication is admirable, but it’s not sustainable.” She looks me dead in the eye. “Frankly, it’s putting your captaincy at risk.”

I toy with the sleeves of the jacket in my lap.

“Being captain is about more than stats. It’s leadership and relationships. It’s about balance. Your teammates respect you, but they don’t know you. They barely see you outside practice. You avoid team dinners and bonding nights. I asked you to go to Paige’s birthday, and you skipped it to watch game tape.”

I flinch. She isn’t wrong, but the team doesn’t need me to be their friend. They need me to win us games.

“I’m trying to make the National Team.”

“And I want you to, but if you want to be at that level, you need more than talent. You need balance. You need a life. Off the pitch.”

I stare at the turf, resisting the urge to argue. She doesn’t get it. Every day not spent training is a day someone else gets better.

“I don’t think you’re hearing me,” Coach says. “If this doesn’t change, I’m going to be reconsidering who wears the captain’s band next season.”

The words hit like a sucker punch.

Captain isn’t a title. It’s a purpose. It’s proof I deserve to be here. It’s also my financial security.

Panic surges.

The lie leaves my mouth before I can stop it.

“I’ve thought the same thing. That's why Nathan was here a little while ago. He’s been begging me to spend more time with him. He’s actually my boyfriend. We were making plans.”