Chapter 38
Connor
Coach closed his laptop and looked at me. “You’re serious about this.”
“I am,” I said. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
He leaned back in his chair. “It’s a big commitment.”
“I know,” I replied, but I was set on this. “That’s why it matters. I just need someone I trust to understand my decision. Or tell me I’m making the wrong one.”
That was enough. He nodded once, slowly. “Then you have my support, whatever you need.”
I left his office with the sense I’d just nudged a door open that couldn’t be shut again. Whatever came next wouldn’t be small, and it definitely wouldn’t be simple. But I wanted it.
The sound of training hit me as soon as I pushed through the doors to the pitch.
Bobby had taken over and was yelling at the lads.
We still had games left, though we were on a thin line to be in the playoffs.
Still, we had a season to finish, even though it was moving fast. There were only a handful of games left.
Whatever I’d brought into that room with Coach could wait. Out here, leadership was simple. Show up. Work hard. Finish what you start.
“Hey, Cap,” Nate said. “Do you think I could ask Coach Emery about my sister? She’s declaring for next season, and I’d like her to be close, if I can.”
I didn’t know much about his sister, but if it was important to Nate, it was to me too. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. You need me to come with?”
“Maybe.” He nodded. “I’m seeing her after this.”
I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “Then I’ll be there.”
Nate let out a breath like he’d been holding it in. “Thanks, Cap.”
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. “Of course.”
Bobby blew the final whistle, and the lads slowed, hands on hips, sweat streaking down their faces. “Good work,” Bobby barked, which for him was practically glowing praise. “Ice, stretch, and get the hell off my pitch.”
“Your pitch, huh?” I mused, crossing my arms over my chest.
Bobby smirked. “Mine when Cap is busy.”
I waited for Nate, when my phone buzzed.
Sunshine
Your place or mine tonight?
I typed my reply with a smile I couldn’t hide.
Connor
Mine. I know how much you love walking on the beach in the mornings
Nate came back, slightly less sweaty in a fresh shirt, at least, and I pocketed my phone. He nodded once, sharply, nerves already back in his shoulders. “Ready?”
“When you are, lad.”
Coach Emery’s office was off the far end of the Valkyries’ facility, tucked away like it had been deliberately placed to discourage casual visits.
“Did you ask her to make time for you?” I asked.
“I did,” he replied, wiping his palms on his sweats. He blew out a quick breath before knocking.
“Come in,” she called, voice flat.
She was standing at the whiteboard, marker in hand, already halfway through rewriting something aggressive and tactical. Her hair was pulled back tight, sleeves rolled up, expression carved from granite.
“This better be quick,” she said, still not turning around.
Nate cleared his throat. “Coach. Thanks for seeing us.”
“You’ve got two minutes,” she said. “Talk.”
Nate shifted, then steadied. “My sister’s declaring for next season. She’s a winger. Strong under pressure. Smart runner. I was hoping—if there’s a possibility—you might take a look. She’d like to stay close.”
Coach Emery finally capped the marker and faced us fully.
“I don’t recruit because someone’s related to one of my players,” she said. “And I don’t promise spots before trials.”
“I know,” Nate said quickly. “I’m not asking for that. Only if she’d be considered.” He cleared his throat. “On merit.”
Silence stretched. Emery’s gaze flicked to me then, sharp as a blade.
“You vouching for her, too?” she asked.
I didn’t hesitate. “I’m vouching for his work ethic,” I said evenly. “And for the fact that he wouldn’t waste your time if he didn’t believe she could earn it.”
Emery studied me for a long beat, then looked back at Nate.
“Send her tape,” she said. “Full match footage. If she’s good enough, she’ll make it through trials like everyone else.”
Nate exhaled, slow and controlled. “Thank you, Coach.”
When she turned back to the board, we took that as our cue to leave.
We stepped back out into the air-conditioned space, the noise of the facility humming around us again.
Nate scrubbed a hand over his face, a grin breaking through. “That went… better than I thought.”
I huffed. “For Emery? That was practically an endorsement.”
Relief loosened his shoulders as he laughed quietly. “Yeah. Thanks for coming with me.”
“Anytime,” I said. And I meant it. Leadership wasn’t always speeches. It wasn’t promises. If being a captain had taught me anything, it was that sometimes I just needed to show up, stand beside my teammates, and support their decisions.
I hoped they’d do the same for me when the time came.