Page 23 of With the Assist

Silence falls. Holy shit. I really said that.

Coach blinks. “Your boyfriend is Nathan Wilder.”

“Yes.” Shit. I said it again.

She studies me for a long moment. I hold my breath, praying she can’t see the tremor in my hands.

Then, she smiles. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

Guilt knots in my throat, but I nod stiffly, having no idea how to walk back the lie.

“You’ve been so isolated,” she continues. “It’s good to see you letting someone in. I want you to bring him to the team party in January.”

My eyes widen. “The team party…”

“Yes. It’ll be good for the team to see you with someone. They can see that their captain has the work-life balance everyone deserves.”

It was nearly two months away.

Fucking perfect.

Enough time for this lie to explode spectacularly in my face.

I force a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Of course. I’ll… tell him.”

Coach squeezes my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Wesley. Truly. You deserve to have something outside this sport.”

Then she walks off, leaving me alone in the stands. My fingers brush the slip of paper in my pocket.

My captaincy is on the line. My National Team dream is at risk. And now I have a fake boyfriend I absolutely didn’t ask for.

So much for no distractions.

7

Wesley

Imight have lied to Coach Bennett and told her Nathan Wilder is my boyfriend.”

Avery freezes mid-chip dip, and Harper nearly drops her wine bottle. I shove a throw pillow over my face as if I can smother the words back into my mouth.

This is how our emergency girls’ night begins.

We’re at Harper’s townhouse, curled up in her living room, where everything is soft tones and candlelight. A diffuser hums in the corner, pushing out vanilla and lavender like we’re supposed to be meditating, not spiraling. The coffee table is a battlefield of snacks, including cheese, chocolate, and a bowl of chips that Avery is singlehandedly annihilating.

“You told her he’s your what?” Harper asks from her place on the rug next to me. Her legs are curled up under her with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“My boyfriend,” I mumble through the pillow pathetically.

Avery shrieks. Actually shrieks. “Wesley, really? Oh my god, our little captain has finally cracked.” She rolls from her back onto her stomach on the couch so that she can look at me.

“It was an accident.” I throw the pillow at her, knocking her twisted bun of red hair into something messier.

“You accidentally gave yourself a famous hockey player as a boyfriend?” Avery arches a brow. “That’s not an accident, it’s a manifestation.”

“I panicked. She was lecturing me about balance and how, as captain, I need to have a life. I told her I did. She saw him leaving, and I went with it.”

“Wait.” Harper pauses mid-glass refill. “What do you mean she saw him leaving?”