Chapter 28 The Last Warning #2
“Probably.”
“You may lose opportunities over this.”
Lena thought of Meridian.
The internship.
The future she wanted so badly it scared her.
She thought of the version of herself who would have chosen silence to keep the application clean, the smile bright, the father calm, the program protected.
Then she thought of Nico sitting alone in the hearing room before she entered.
Alone because everyone had been managing his story while calling it care.
“I do not want opportunities that require me to pretend I don’t know the difference between scandal and truth,” she said.
Her father stared at her.
Something in his face cracked.
Pride, maybe.
Fear, definitely.
Love underneath both.
Before he could answer, Talia’s tablet chimed.
She glanced down.
Her face tightened.
“What?” Lena asked.
Talia looked at Coach Hart first.
Then at Nico.
Then at Lena.
“Savannah posted.”
Of course she did.
Talia turned the tablet.
Savannah’s campus account had posted a long caption beneath a blurred screenshot of Lena and Nico from Court One.
Some relationships start as strategy. Some people just forget to stop selling the story. Wonder what Westbridge will say when the championship cameras catch the truth.
Below it was a comment from Savannah herself.
Tomorrow should be interesting.
Lena’s stomach turned.
Nico’s phone buzzed.
He pulled it out.
Declan.
Again.
This time there was a photo attached.
A cropped image of Carmen Reyes from what looked like an old social media post. Nico’s mother smiling outside a grocery store, apron on, one arm around Sofia.
Lena’s blood went cold.
Nico went completely still.
The message beneath it read:
Tell your mom I said good luck. She’ll need it when her boy loses his temper on national coverage.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Nico’s grip tightened around the phone so hard Lena thought the screen might crack.
“Nico,” she said softly.
He did not answer.
His face had gone frighteningly blank.
Not rage.
Not yet.
Worse.
That old, frozen fear.
Coach Hart stepped forward. “What is it?”
Nico did not speak.
Lena gently reached for the phone.
Not taking.
Asking.
His eyes flicked to hers.
There was so much fury in them she almost lost her breath.
Then he let her take it.
That small surrender nearly broke her.
Lena handed the phone to her father.
Coach Hart read the message.
The color drained from his face.
Talia whispered, “That’s a threat.”
“No,” Nico said.
His voice was low and deadly calm.
“It’s bait.”
Everyone looked at him.
He stared at the phone in Coach Hart’s hand, but when he spoke again, his voice stayed steady.
“He wants me walking into tomorrow already angry. He wants me waiting for the next thing he says. He wants my mom in my head before I even pick up a racket.”
Lena’s chest ached.
Because he saw it.
He saw the trap.
That did not make it hurt less.
Coach Hart handed the phone back.
His face had changed.
Not fully.
But enough.
“I will report this to Dr. Langley and Eastmont’s coach tonight,” he said.
Nico’s eyes snapped up. “No.”
“Nico,” Lena said.
“If they bench him now, he says I was scared to face him.”
Coach Hart’s voice hardened. “This is not about his narrative.”
“It will be to him.”
“Let it.”
Nico’s jaw worked.
Coach Hart stepped closer. “Listen to me. Let him talk. Let him spin. Let him look for every weak place. That is what players do when they know they cannot beat you clean.”
The words landed.
Nico looked at him.
Really looked.
Maybe for the first time without assuming the worst.
Coach Hart’s voice softened by one degree. “You do not owe him another version of yourself to destroy.”
The room went quiet.
Lena stared at her father.
So did Nico.
Coach Hart looked uncomfortable with his own tenderness, which made him more familiar than ever.
Nico’s throat moved.
“Yes, Coach,” he said.
This time, the respect sounded real.
Lena nearly cried.
Inconvenient.
Deeply inconvenient.
Talia cleared her throat. “I’m going to contact Dr. Langley and preserve screenshots.”
“Send everything to me,” Coach Hart said.
Talia nodded and left, already typing.
The door shut behind her.
Leaving the three of them.
Father.
Daughter.
The boy in between who was no longer only in between.
Coach Hart looked at Lena.
Then Nico.
Then the clock on his wall.
“You both need sleep.”
Lena almost laughed.
Sleep.
Hilarious.
Her father’s gaze sharpened like he heard the thought. “That was not a suggestion.”
“There he is,” Lena muttered.
Nico’s mouth twitched.
Coach Hart caught it.
For one strange second, the room almost breathed.
Then her father looked at Nico. “Walk her back. Then go home. Medical clearance at five-thirty.”
Nico nodded. “Yes, Coach.”
Lena turned toward the door, but her father’s voice stopped her.
“Lena.”
She looked back.
His expression was still troubled.
Still afraid.
Still her father.
But there was something else there now.
A fragile respect she had wanted for so long she almost did not recognize it when it arrived.
“I do not like this,” he said.
She smiled faintly. “Shocking.”
His mouth almost moved.
Almost.
“But I believe you know what you are choosing,” he said.
The words hit softly.
Harder because of that.
Lena swallowed.
“Thank you.”
Her father nodded once.
Then looked at Nico.
“If you hurt her, I will have a very difficult time remembering I am your coach.”
Nico did not flinch.
“I know.”
“And if you leave her to carry your fallout alone again?”
Nico’s face changed.
Pain.
Regret.
Determination.
“I won’t.”
Lena looked at him.
He looked back.
And for once, he did not look away.
They walked out of the office together.
In the hallway, the travel packets still sat stacked on the desk. Championship departure. 6:00 a.m. Official itinerary. Team conduct guidelines. Media restrictions.
The next battle printed in neat blue ink.
Lena and Nico stopped beside the trophy case.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Nico said, “I don’t know if I can stay calm.”
The confession was quiet.
Barely above a whisper.
But it was honest.
And it was his.
Lena turned to him.
The hallway light caught the tired shadows beneath his eyes, the hard line of his mouth, the braced wrist he held close like proof of every limit he hated.
“You might not feel calm,” she said. “That’s different from giving him control.”
His gaze searched hers.
“He’s going to say something,” Nico said.
“I know.”
“About my mom.”
“Probably.”
His jaw tightened.
Lena stepped closer.
Not touching yet.
Giving him the choice.
“You are allowed to be angry,” she said. “You are allowed to hate him. You are allowed to want to hurt him.”
His eyes darkened.
“But you are not allowed to hand him your future because he borrowed your pain.”
Nico looked down.
A long breath left him.
Then he reached for her hand.
This time, he did not hesitate.
His fingers locked with hers.
Warm.
Firm.
Real.
“Okay,” he said.
It was only one word.
But tonight, it held more trust than any confession.
Lena squeezed his hand.
Together, they walked toward the dorms beneath the dim athletic hallway lights, past trophies and travel packets and every rule that had tried to tell them what they were allowed to become.
Behind them, Nico’s phone buzzed one more time.
He stopped.
Lena looked at him.
He pulled it out.
Unknown number.
One message.
See you at match point.
Nico stared at it.
Then, slowly, he turned the screen toward Lena.
Not hiding.
Not alone.
Not anymore.
She looked at the message, then up at him.
“Then we’ll be ready,” she said.
His grip tightened around hers.
Outside, championship morning waited in the dark.