Chapter 32 What Happens Next #2
Lena stared at her.
For a second, she did not understand.
Or maybe she did, but understanding felt dangerous.
Her father turned toward her slowly.
Nico’s hand tightened around hers.
“Meridian?” he asked quietly.
Lena nodded without looking away from Talia. “The internship.”
Talia smiled. “They want to move forward with an interview.”
The room blurred.
Lena blinked fast.
No.
Absolutely not.
She was not crying again.
There were limits.
Probably.
Her phone buzzed in her bag.
She pulled it out with clumsy fingers.
An email notification sat on the screen.
Meridian Sports Group — Internship Interview Invitation
Her breath caught.
Nico looked down at the phone, then at her face.
For once, he smiled first.
Not the tiny almost-smile.
A real one.
Quiet.
Exhausted.
Beautiful enough to make her chest ache.
“Wow, Lena,” he said, voice low. “That’s amazing.”
The echo of their media room conversation hit her hard.
Back when she had been scared to tell anyone.
Back when he had said it awkwardly because she asked him to.
Now he said it like he meant every word.
Lena laughed through a fresh wave of tears she had absolutely not approved.
“You remembered.”
His brows drew together, as if the idea of forgetting something that mattered to her offended him.
“Of course I remembered.”
Her father watched them.
This time, his face did not close.
That almost made her cry harder.
Talia cleared her throat. “The interview would likely be remote next week, then in-person after graduation if you’re selected. I told them you were unavailable for comment until after the championship ceremony.”
“You told them?” Lena asked.
“I told them you had just handled a crisis, a championship, and a complicated public narrative, and that they could wait two hours like adults.”
Lena laughed again.
Talia’s mouth curved. “Professionally.”
“Thank you,” Lena whispered.
Talia nodded once.
Then she looked at Coach Hart. “Also, Dr. Langley wants both of you for a final press photo. Not the couple. The team. Nico, wrist visible if you’re comfortable. Coach, please try not to look like you’re negotiating a hostage release.”
Coach Hart’s brows drew together. “That is not how I look.”
All three of them stared at him.
He sighed. “Fine.”
Talia left, satisfied.
The door closed.
Lena looked down at the email again.
Meridian.
Her future.
Not a fantasy.
Not a secret.
Not something she had to hide until it was polished enough to deserve space.
Something real.
Something hers.
Her father stepped closer.
“Lena.”
She looked up.
His expression was softer now.
Sad, but not wounded.
Afraid, but not controlling.
“I should have been the first person telling you to go after that.”
Her throat tightened. “Maybe.”
He nodded.
No defense.
“I am proud of you.”
The words hit harder than she expected.
Maybe because she had wanted them for so long.
Maybe because she had finally done something without needing them first.
Maybe both.
“Thank you,” she said.
Her father reached for her, hesitated, then opened his arms.
The hesitation nearly undid her.
Because he was asking too.
In his way.
Lena let go of Nico’s hand and stepped into her father’s hug.
For a second, she was small again.
But not trapped.
That was the difference.
Her father held her carefully, like he was still learning how to protect without enclosing.
“I’m still taking the interview,” she said against his shoulder.
A rough laugh moved through him. “I know.”
“And if I get it, I may leave Westbridge.”
“I know.”
“And Nico is still—”
“I know,” he said again, voice strained. “One emotional growth moment at a time.”
Lena laughed into his sweater.
Then stepped back.
Her father looked past her to Nico.
Nico stood with both hands now in his pockets, awkward in a way Lena adored immediately and planned to tease him about later when his face had more color.
Coach Hart cleared his throat. “Reyes.”
Nico straightened. “Coach.”
“My daughter will take that interview.”
“Yes.”
“If she gets the internship, she will go.”
Nico nodded once.
“Yes.”
Her father’s eyes sharpened. “And you will not become another reason for her to doubt her own ambition.”
Lena opened her mouth.
Nico answered before she could.
“No, sir.”
The words were calm.
Not offended.
Not submissive.
A promise.
He looked at Lena then.
“She doesn’t shrink for me.”
Her chest tightened.
Her father heard it too.
For a moment, the two men looked at each other.
Then Coach Hart nodded.
“Good.”
Outside, the team erupted into another round of cheers, probably because someone had opened the cake.
The normal world was waiting.
The messy, loud, complicated world where Nico’s wrist still needed rest, Declan’s consequences were only beginning, Lena’s internship interview waited in her inbox, and love did not magically solve distance or fathers or old wounds.
But for once, none of that felt like a reason to run.
Nico stepped closer when her father moved toward the door.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
Lena looked up at him.
His face was tired. His hair was messy. His wrist was braced. His eyes were still carrying more than any twenty-two-year-old should have to hold.
And somehow, he was smiling at her.
A little.
Enough.
“No,” she said honestly.
His mouth curved. “Good.”
She laughed. “That is not the supportive response.”
“I’m learning honesty first. Supportive second.”
“Ambitious.”
“You like ambitious.”
“I like winners.”
His eyes warmed. “Convenient.”
She looked down at their hands.
He noticed.
He always noticed.
This time, he reached for her first.
Not for cameras.
Not for strategy.
Not because someone asked whether it was real.
Just because he wanted to.
Their fingers fit together like they had been doing this for years instead of days.
Lena squeezed once.
Nico squeezed back.
Her phone buzzed again.
She glanced at the screen.
Another email.
Same sender.
A follow-up from Meridian’s coordinator.
We were especially impressed by your ability to protect athlete privacy under public pressure. That kind of judgment is rare.
Lena stared at the sentence.
Judgment.
There it was again.
The word that had once hurt in her father’s office.
Now rewritten.
Not by the internet.
Not by her father.
Not by Nico.
By her.
Nico read it over her shoulder and went quiet.
“What?” she asked.
His voice was soft when he answered.
“They saw you right.”
Her eyes burned.
She looked up at him.
“So did you,” she said.
His expression shifted.
The smile faded, not because he was unhappy, but because the words had gone somewhere deep.
Then Coach Hart opened the door.
Celebration noise rushed in.
Jace immediately appeared in the doorway holding two paper plates with cake.
“Oh good,” he said. “No one is crying anymore.”
Lena wiped under her eyes.
Nico looked at him. “Bad timing.”
Jace glanced between them. “So yes, crying, but in a productive way.”
“Move,” Coach Hart said.
Jace stepped aside instantly. “Yes, sir. Emotional breakthroughs are terrifying when you’re involved.”
Coach Hart sighed and walked past him.
Lena laughed.
Nico looked at her like the sound mattered.
Like every real laugh was still something worth winning.
Together, they stepped back into the championship noise.
Not fixed.
Not finished.
But no longer pretending.
And for the first time in a long time, Lena Hart did not feel like she was leaving one life behind.
She felt like she was finally walking into her own.