Chapter 63
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
DYLAN
The gym is empty when I get there. Just the soft clink of weights and the low hum of the vending machine in the corner. That sound used to drive me mad, but now its predictability feels safe and grounding. I need safe.
I haven’t slept and I’ve barely eaten. Every muscle in my body is tight, like I’m playing in overtime but haven’t trained in weeks. This isn’t a game though; it’s my life. And I’m currently losing.
Mia’s gone. She needed space, and I didn’t fight her on it. Didn’t chase her. Didn’t beg. Just sent the truth and hoped it landed softer than the world did.
I don’t regret what we had, what we have, if there’s still a chance, but the fallout is brutal. Social media is a warzone. I had to log out after I saw someone call her a gold digger. Like she needs anything from me.
I’d give her everything I have.
I pull the barbell off the rack and push through another rep, ignoring the ache in my shoulder, and the slight burn in my ankle. I remain focused and try to stay in control. If I stop moving, I’ll start thinking. And if I start thinking, I’ll break.
“Morning, lover boy.” Murphy’s voice breaks through the haze, and I exhale hard, re-racking the bar.
He’s got two coffees in hand and a stupidly optimistic grin like we didn’t just live through the equivalent of a PR nuke.
“You’re late,” I say.
“I’m not. You’re just spiralling ahead of schedule.”
I sit up, wipe sweat from my brow, and take the coffee he holds out. “Did you sleep?”
“Not really. Watched Bake Off reruns and doom-scrolled through social media. Got whiplash from the emotional swing.”
I frown. “Still bad?”
Murphy smirks. “Actually, no. Better.”
He pulls out his phone, flicks through a few tabs and shows me a thread on one of the fan forums. I brace myself, already prepared to see my name dragged through the mud again. But the top comment makes me pause.
“You can literally see Dylan’s game change when she’s around. That’s not distraction, that’s motivation.”
Then another.
“Mia Clarke’s the most professional physio we’ve had in years. Leave her alone.”
And another.
“They love each other. You can see it. Let them.”
I scroll, blinking like the words might rearrange themselves into something cruel. But they don’t. The narrative’s shifting. “They’re defending her,” I say, almost in disbelief.
“They’re defending you, mate,” Murphy corrects gently. “Us. The team. The whole thing.”
Something heavy twists in my chest. “They don’t even know her,” I say, not sure who I’m trying to convince.
“They know enough,” Murphy says. “They’ve seen the way you look at her.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Doesn’t matter if the fans are on our side. Mike still hasn’t said a word. League’s still sniffing around, and she’s still gone.”
“You’re not the only one who misses her,” Murphy says, quieter now. “Ollie asked me if she was coming back. Jacko hasn’t stopped baking. I think it’s stress-related. There are banana muffins in the freezer and a carrot cake in the debrief room, ready for when we finish training.”
I laugh, a short, broken sound. “Tell him I said thanks.”
Murphy sobers, stepping closer. “She’ll come back. And when she does, you make sure it’s worth it. Yeah?”
Before I can answer, the locker room door swings open, and in comes Danny, loud, smug, and about two comments away from getting punched.
He claps his hands. “Well, well, if it isn’t Romeo and Juliet.”
Murphy groans. “Mate, read the room.”
But Danny just grins, swaggering like he’s the bloody hero of the story. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Diesel. You went all in for a physio. Ballsy.”
“Back off, Danny,” I warn.
“Oh, relax,” he says, tossing his gym bag on the bench. “I’m just saying she should’ve picked someone like me. Bit of fun. No headlines. No drama.”
Murphy’s eyes narrow. “You think this is funny?”
Danny shrugs. “She made her bed. Now she’s hiding while the rest of us deal with the fallout. I mean, come on, who gets this bent out of shape over a hook-up?”
My jaw clenches so tight it hurts. “Say that again.”
“What?” Danny lifts his hands, mock-innocent. “That it was a fling? Come on. You’re Dylan Winters. She was never going to be more than a distraction.”
That’s it. I lunge forward, shoving him hard enough that he stumbles back into the lockers.
Murphy grabs my arm, pulling me off before I can land the punch I really want to throw. “Not worth it, man. Not worth it.”
But I’m breathing hard, fists clenched, blood boiling. Danny laughs, rubbing his shoulder.
“Touched a nerve, did I?”
“You don’t get to talk about her,” I snarl. “Not ever.”
A sharp voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “What the hell’s going on here?” Coach Bentley stands in the doorway, arms folded, eyes blazing.
Danny straightens, all fake charm. “Just a bit of banter, Coach.”
Bentley steps into the room, gaze swinging to me, then to Danny. “What exactly were you saying about Mia Clarke just now?”
Danny opens his mouth, but Bentley cuts him off.
“No. I heard enough. You think that kind of talk is acceptable in this room? In my locker room?”
Danny blinks. “It was just…”
“Sit down and shut up,” Bentley snaps.
The room goes silent. Then he turns to me. “Winters, with me. Now.” I nod, my fists still clenched tightly, and follow him down the hall to his office. The door shuts behind us with a dull thud. “Sit,” he says and I do.
Bentley doesn’t sit. He paces behind his desk like a man trying to decide between murder and retirement.
“I don’t like drama,” he says finally. “You know that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But I like even less when one of my players shows his true colours in front of half the team, and makes a woman’s professional reputation the punchline of a joke.”
My throat tightens. “It wasn’t a joke.”
“I know.” Bentley sighs. “Look. I don’t know what the league’s going to say.
I don’t know what Mike’s cooking up in that PR cave of his.
But what I do know is that you’ve always played with heart.
And this? This isn’t a scandal to me. This is a man who finally let himself feel something.
” I stare at him, surprised. He leans forward. “You love her?”
“Yes,” I say, no hesitation.
He nods once. “Then keep your head down. Let us handle the noise. Your job is to stay ready; physically and mentally. Got it?”
“Yes, Coach.”
“And Dylan?”
“Yeah?”
“If and when she walks back through that door, don’t waste time.”
I nod again, something loosening in my chest. When I step out into the corridor, Murphy’s waiting, arms folded. “You good?”
“Think so,” I mutter. “Coach isn’t as furious as I thought.”
“Probably helps that Danny looks like he’s about to cry.”
We walk together back toward the rink entrance. I’m just unlocking my phone to check the time when I see it. A message from Mia. I stop walking and my heart jumps into my throat.
Murphy notices. “That her?”
I nod, already tapping it open.
I read your message. Every word. I felt it in my bones. I’m still scared. Still trying to be brave. But I needed you to know I miss you. And I’m proud of you. I’ll be in touch soon. M xxx
I read it three times before I can breathe again.
Murphy peers over my shoulder, then slaps my back. “There she is.”
I tuck the phone against my chest like I’m afraid it’ll disappear. “She read the message I sent her.”
“She heard you.”
The cold knot in my chest finally starts to thaw a little. Just enough. I don’t know what’s coming next or what Mike will decide, or what the league will do for that matter. But I know this, she’s still with me.
And that’s enough.