Page 63 of With the Assist

She moves up next to me, the silence between us brimming with tension. I notice the subtle things: the way her fingers flex with each stride, the quick inhale when I adjust my pace beside hers, and the almost imperceptible glances she casts in my direction when she thinks I’m not watching.

Once we’re back at the field, we run through some agility drills that she seems comfortable with. I trip up on them more than I’dlike. It’s further evidence that even as a professional athlete, with ten years of experience and championships under my belt, there’s still room for improvement. Wesley’s constant pursuit of perfection brings out the drive in me, too.

Eventually, we cool down, walking laps around the field, stretching as we go. After a mostly quiet workout, I’m damn near desperate to get her to open up to me about anything.

“How was your family?” I ask gently, curiosity creeping into my voice.

She hesitates, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s hard, being back there. Comforting in some ways, but it reminds me how much everyone counts on me. Sometimes I just want to escape it all, you know? I wish I could completely ignore the responsibility on my shoulders.”

I nod, understanding more than I should. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “I get that. My agent, my coach, hell, the whole city has pretty high expectations for me, and I’ve failed at meeting them for a while. I know it’s different, but…” I trail off.

“Yeah, it’s different, but pressure is pressure.” She looks at me then, a small spark of connection lighting her eyes. “You know, I’ve always been jealous of you. Well, not you, but like the Blades in general. We put in a lot of the same effort, and you all seem to reap a lot more of the benefits.”

“‘The path we take to play the sport we love does not come easily.’ You were right, it’s about time women athletes get more recognition.”

I smile, remembering how impactful I thought her speech was. Bidding on her training day hadn’t crossed my mind until she’d given her speech. Her looks may have been why I’d flirted, but it was her words that made me want more time with her.

She scrunches her eyebrows. “You remember my speech.” We’re both silent for a second. “I still mean most of it, but I’m starting to learn that just because there’s money and notoriety, it doesn’t mean it comes easily for you either. Sometimes it might make it harder.”

I plop into the grass, moving into stationary stretches. “The media can be a real bitch.”

“I’ve figured that out.” She slides down next to me, not bothering to create as much distance. “I had to shut down my messages because girls started attacking me for taking you off the market.”

“Oh damn,” I say, laughing only when I realize she is too. “I’m sorry about that.”

I mean it. She may have gotten us into this mess originally, but I poured gasoline on the fire. Though I’d be lying if I said I minded. It’s nice having a little more peace and a little less of the eligible bachelor narrative following me around.

“It’s not your fault.” She unlaces her cleats and slides back into her tennis shoes. “Besides, I get it. You are one hell of a fake kisser.”

My pulse skips, her words catching me completely off guard in the best way imaginable. “We make quite the pair.”

“For two people who are living out their dreams, we complain too much.” Wesley hops up, tossing her bag onto her shoulder.

I consider it for a second. It’s the dream, but the sacrifices and the pressure sucks. I know I wouldn’t give it up for a second, though. When my blades hit the ice, everything makes sense. It’s all worth it.

“Even living the dream comes with its downsides.”

“Yeah, it does.” Her voice is quiet.

I watch something like sadness cloud Wesley’s eyes before she chases it away.

I hate her tone. I hate that she won’t let me all the way in.

“Are you busy right now?” The words slip out.

Her eyes flick to mine, and she chews on her bottom lip. “It depends.”

I’ll take it.

“C’mon, you’ve kicked my ass enough for today.” I scoop up my bag and grab her hand, pulling her behind me as we head to the tunnel. “Let me show you what you’re helping me save.”

17

Wesley

The arena is dark when we walk in. The quiet doesn’t feel eerie, but I move with caution. I don’t belong here.

The overhead lights flick on as Nathan leads me through the tunnel, the hum of electricity echoing up into the rafters. The sound travels through the empty space, bouncing off thousands of empty seats that would normally be filled with screaming fans.