43 - Wesley
Wesley
The locker room is loud, a combination of anticipation for our last scrimmage before the season starts and excitement over the warmer weather. I’m perched on the edge of the bench with a towel draped across my shoulders. Avery’s voice cuts through the room like it always does, impossible to ignore.
“I’m not seeing anyone,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I swear.”
Becca snorts. “You? The queen of debriefing us on your sexual exploits, suddenly has none?”
Haley laughs, leaning against the lockers with arms crossed. “Suspicious. What are you hiding, Avery?”
“I’m not hiding anything.” Avery protests, flopping back onto the bench. “It’s not my fault that there are no guys in all of Boston that can keep me entertained.”
Haley and Becca laugh, but there is a glint of something in Avery’s eyes. There is a twitch in her voice that masks something she doesn’t want to say.
I want to say something, push her the way Harper would if she were here, but I keep my mouth shut. Pushing her will prompt her to push me right back, pulling on the thread that is still too painful to address.
So, I nod along politely listening. My fingers fidget with the wrap that I use to keep my shin guards on, wrapping it tightly around my leg.
They all wonder what happened outside the bar during Becca’s birthday, but I can’t bring myself to say a word about it.
I’d spent the entire night pretending to be unaffected by Nathan’s presence. It wasn’t until I was faced with the reality that he could be with someone else that I broke. Nothing about the night was as painful as the look on his face.
He said he fell in love with me, and then, he said it was a mistake. I deserved it. He should never forgive me. Hell, I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive myself.
My thoughts are interrupted by a voice I don’t immediately recognize. A rookie from the third line perches on the edge of the bench next to mine, curling her legs under her like she’s not sure she’s allowed to be here.
She’s only nineteen, having skipped college to be here, still so green and hungry for the kind of success that I’m now finding myself. There’s healthy envy and desire in her eyes as she watches me.
“Is it true?” she asks, voice cutting through the gossip. “Is one of the National Team coaches here to watch you tonight?”
I pause, pulling my socks up into place at my knee. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah,” I say. “It’s true.”
The room gets a little quieter. Avery frowns, eyebrows drawn together. “Wow. That’s… big.”
I didn’t tell her. Actually, I didn’t tell anyone.
“Yes, it’s big,” Becca adds, voice low and conspiratorial. “Shouldn’t you be like excited? Jumping up and down, screaming, texting everyone, or posting it on Instagram.”
I shrug, shoulders heavy, trying to hide the fact that nothing seems to light me up lately.
“It is a big deal.” My words sound hollow, even to me.
Haley cocks her head, giving me a sideways look like she’s trying to figure me out. “You okay?”
I force a small laugh. “I am. Really. Just focused, you know?”
It’s what everyone wants from me, and it’s what I’ve always delivered. How can I admit that the part of me that should care, that should feel pride, is strangely absent?
Avery nudges me with her elbow, playful but sharp.
I shoot her a look while I finish the braid I wear for all my games.
Becca leans in, resting her chin on her hand. “Well, that’s good. You’ve earned it. You’ve worked your ass off. You’re going to kill it out there.”
The rookie fidgets again, glancing at me and trying to gauge whether to ask me whatever is on her mind. “Any tips for someone who wants to be where you are?” She asks, softly.
My head jerks in her direction. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, foot tapping a mile a minute.
I toy with the question for a second before I answer. “Be prepared to give everything you have. And then be prepared to give even more.”
My throat tightens, words cracking, but I force them out anyway. I should be a better captain and give her advice that isn’t an extension of my own pain, but I don’t have it in me. Instead, I ignore the stress on her face and the concerned looks from my friends, turning back toward my locker.
I don’t need anything out of it, but fidgeting with my bag buys me the time I need to get myself in check. When I finally turn back, only Avery is left watching me.
“You’re terrible at this. Pretending like you’re not thinking about him is worse than admitting it.”
I manage a smile this time, tighter than it should be. “I’m fine. Just ready to play.”
The locker room begins to buzz with movement as some of the team files back in after visiting the athletic trainer for treatment.
The goalie coach is instructing in the corner, and the assistant coach has some of the rookies pulled aside.
Noise fills the space and pushes the thoughts away for a moment.
I stand and walk toward the corner we usually sit in, trailing behind Avery. My hands tighten around my water. Tonight could change everything for me professionally.
The thought nags, uninvited: this should matter more. I should care more. All the things I’ve sacrificed for soccer. Him. All for a shot at what I’m so close to accomplishing.
Avery grabs my arm, her grip firm enough to make me stop in my tracks. “Hey,” she says, voice low, pulling me aside away from everyone. “We need to talk. Now.”
“What’s up?” I murmur, though my voice sounds more tired than usual.
“You. You’re miserable, and it’s so damn frustrating because you don’t have to be, Wesley.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” She repeats, eyebrows raised. “I’m your best friend. You think I can’t tell that this is eating you alive?”
“It’s empty, okay?”
She blinks at me impatiently. “Because you love him.”
I frown. “No.”
“You love him.” She says again, nodding her head at me.
“I can’t. It wasn’t supposed to be anything.” I can feel the tears forming and close my eyes, forcing them back.
“Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be anything, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t.” Avery grabs my shoulder. “Why did you push him away?”
“I can’t risk this. Not right now. Not with everything on the line. Everyone needs me.” My breath starts to come faster.
Fuck.
Luckily, Avery recognizes the signs of my anxiety spirals, having helped me through them before. She moves me to the bench and pushes my head down to my knees.
“My schedule. The team. My dream. I can’t—”
“You can’t what?” Avery asks, her voice sharper now, though still concerned. “Love someone? Be happy?”
I shake my head. “It’s not that simple. I missed my one-on-one session because of him. I overslept.”
Avery raises an eyebrow.
“I was with him. I got distracted. I…”
She cuts me off with a soft laugh, sitting down next to me. “Wes, shit happens. It’s not the end of the world.”
I look at her, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“You don’t get it. I’ve spent twenty-two years dreaming of this.
I’ve only known him since November. That can’t be worth losing out on the National Team, not when I’ve worked my entire life for this.
My family counts on me. The team counts on me.
I don’t get to,” I trail off, frustrated.
Avery grips my shoulders now, forcing me to meet her gaze. “Your team doesn’t need you perfect. We need you human. We need someone who can show us how to live on and off the field, not grind endlessly until everything else dies.”
I blink, absorbing her words, the truth sticking like ice in my chest.
“And your family is proud of you,” she continues, voice softening.
“They’ll be proud of you even if you aren’t on the U.S.
Women’s National Team. It’s not your responsibility to be a martyr, sacrificing every ounce of happiness for a dream you had as a kid.
You’re allowed to want both. You’re allowed to want more. ”
She shakes her head slowly, as if trying to knock some sense into me. “Dreams change, Wes. Sometimes they change altogether. Sometimes they just expand. Why can’t your dream be the World Cup with Nathan in the stands supporting you? Why does it have to be all or nothing?”
Her words hang in the air. The picture she’s painted settles somewhere deep.
I nod slowly, because I know she’s right.
I pushed Nathan away because I was worried he would get in the way of my dreams, only to realize too late that he was already a part of the very dreams I was desperately trying to save.
“Maybe you're right, but it’s too late.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “I hurt him.”
Avery smiles, just the faintest upturn of lips. “If anyone can fix it, it’s you. So go out there tonight, and show the coaches what you’ve got. You can win Nathan back tomorrow.”
I take a deep breath, shoulders loosening. She lets go of me, and I feel lighter. Maybe the field isn’t the only place where I can chase what I want.
Until the whispers start.
“Oh, shit.”
Becca’s and Haley’s voices are low, but not low enough. They murmur Nathan’s name and something about a video. I freeze.
My head snaps toward them. “What the hell is going on?” I ask, voice sharp, heart already picking up pace.
They exchange a glance and hesitate, like they don’t know if they’re supposed to tell me. Their faces stop me in my tracks.
Haley presses a button on her phone, turning it toward me. It’s glowing, catching the fluorescent light.
The video starts.
Nathan is moving fast on the ice, chasing the puck. Then, he’s hit from the side. It must’ve caught him off guard because he doesn’t brace for it. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I watch him fall. His body collapses, helmet slamming into the ice as his stick skitters away.
My hands tremble, bile rising in my throat. His body twitches, but he doesn’t get up. He’s out cold.
The world tilts and my heart thunders in my ears. The video restarts, but I look away, unable to watch it a second time. Nathan. My Nathan. He’s completely unconscious on the ice. I sink onto the bench, not even aware of doing it.
Coach Bennett’s voice cuts in, like a distant echo. “Okay, team, eyes up. Warmups are almost…”
I don’t hear the rest. Everything is Nathan. His face, the way he used to hold me, and the sound of his helmet hitting ice. The panic in my chest claws through me until it’s all I am.
My body is fighting to stay calm, but my mind is hazy with only one thought breaking through the fog. I love him. I’ve been trying to bury it, ignore it, rationalize it away with training and focus, but seeing him there, helpless and out cold, it’s like a punch through the center of my chest.
He may not ever forgive me. I could never expect him to after hurting him the way I did. But now, right this second, I’m not sure how I could ever forgive myself if I don’t go to him.
Something clicks into place. I jump to my feet, keys in hand, and my cleats forgotten on the bench. “I have to go,” I interrupt, voice sharp enough to make every head turn toward me.
Coach Bennett freezes mid-sentence, eyebrows raising. “Wesley, sit down. We’re about to play a game here. This is important.”
“I can’t,” I breathe, my keys shaking faintly in my grasp.
Her gaze is calm, even as she tries to stop me. “National Team coaches are in the stands. This is your moment, Wesley. Don’t throw it away.”
“I know,” I say, my voice shaking. “I know. But...”
Coach’s eyes narrow as she steps closer, voice quiet but intense. “Is it worth it?”
I pause, heart hammering, eyes flicking toward every face in the room, knowing that the only face I need to see isn’t here.
“He’s worth it.”
She scrunches her eyebrows in confusion. Avery jumps in explaining Nathan’s injury, but I only hear bits and pieces, the picture of him hitting the ice replaying in my head.
Coach Bennett nods at me, her expression softer. “I’ll take care of it, Wesley. Go.”
Without another word, I turn, racing past my startled teammates toward the parking lot. My fingers tap against the steering wheel, but adrenaline pushes me forward as the car peels away from the stadium.
I don’t look back. I don’t let myself worry about what I might’ve given up. I choose him.