My jaw tightens. I know she’s right, but the desperation claws at me anyway. After watching the team clinch without me, it’s like I can’t stop looking for a way to wrestle back control.
She must see it, because her tone softens. “I get it. Sitting out is brutal. But you’re still their captain, Declan. And you only get one shot to come back the right way.”
“Form looks sharper today,” she says brightly, giving me a quick grin. “See? Proof you don’t hate meallthe time.”
Her smile settles something in my chest, and for the first time all day, I forget about the throbbing in my knee.
My phone buzzes on the table. I flip it over.
It’s from Sophie.
Tell Charlie hiiii. Make her fix you fast so you can play in the Playoffs!!????
I huff out a laugh, hold the screen up so Charlie can see. “You’ve officially been recruited.”
She grins at the screen. “Guess I better bring my A-game if Sophie’s counting on me.”
The fact that Sophie’s already this comfortable with Charlie hits me square in the chest. Good, because it means Sophie feels safe.Dangerous, because it means I can’t afford to misstep. Not with Charlie. Not when the fallout wouldn’t just land on me.
Charlie is already cueing up the next drill, steady and focused. I roll my shoulders, try to clear my head.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Because I’m not done with you yet,” she says with that easy grin.
That night, Sophie’s upstairs finishing homework, humming bits of her musical soundtrack between scribbles of her pencil. The TV downstairs is replaying highlights from last night’s win—Torres’s scrappy goal, Tyler yelling himself hoarse, the guys piling on each other at the horn.
I should feel nothing but pride. And I do. But sitting here with an ice pack strapped to my knee, the brace heavy and unforgiving, it’s pride braided tight with frustration. Like the game happened in a room I could see into but never step inside.
I flip through channels, restless. Nothing sticks. My knee throbs in rhythm with the hollow pull in my chest.
What does stick is the way Charlie steadied me this morning—the calm in her touch, her eyes clear and unflinching. The grin she tossed me when she pushed harder, like she knew I couldtake it. The way Sophie texted her mid-session without a second thought, as if she’s already part of our circle.
Vanessa’s call flickers through my head again—thin, rushed—like Sophie was just another box to check between a dozen others. Sophie still smiled, still soaked it up. But I saw the difference.
With Charlie, she didn’t just hear answers. She felt steady. Safe. That’s not nothing. And it’s not something I can ignore, no matter how much I tell myself to keep the lines clear.
It should scare me more than it does.
The line I keep telling myself is solid gets thinner every day.
And the more I try not to think about it, the more I do.
Chapter Eleven
CHARLOTTE
Ican feel the tension radiating off him before he says a word—shoulders squared, jaw tight, every movement on edge.
His team flew out to Dallas this morning for Round 1—first two games on the road—and the weight of it is written all over him.
“Let’s go again,” I say, looping the band around the table leg and handing him the other end.
“They’re playing Game 1 tomorrow. Without me.” His grip tightens on the band, knuckles pale. “Feels like I should be doing more than this.”
I steady my voice despite the bite in his words. “This is how you get back there, Declan. Every pull matters. You know that. We’re seeing so much improvement already.”
