Yesterday, for the first time in weeks, my name was back in the Times sports section. A piece about me, about my future. A future I thought I’d be forced to let go of.
I would have clung to that as a sign of hope, even though I hadn’t heard a word from Coach Alden or the team’s management.
But now, hope wasn’t the only thing gnawing at me. Because hope was now looped with something else—doubt, unease, a weight against my ribs. If this was what I wanted, why didn’t it feel like the answer I’d been waiting for?
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Wheaton's Wonder Never Ends
A leader in the locker room. A winner. A fighter. A symbol. Flashy, fast, deadly in dribbling and crossing. A goal-scorer, but just as brilliant at setting them up.
Maybe it’s the self-confidence, the mischievous smile, or the way the cameras love him—but Owen ‘Wonder’ Wheaton has always been a fan favorite.
For years, Wheaton made magic on the pitch. But his latest injury had fans fearing the worst. With Westbridge searchingfor his replacement, many assumed his career had quietly come to an end.
But sources suggest that Wheaton’s recovery is progressing. Though a full return remains uncertain, we should remember that even with an injury that has ended the careers of others—if anyone can make Wonder happen, it’s Wheaton.
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“What’s going on?” Simon clapped me on the shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts as I stood on the porch, watching the girls play in the lit garden after dinner. Walter sat at the round mosaic table with Paula, drinking tea, their voices blending into the night.
I turned my head to look at Simon. I didn’t reply. It was clear from his tone and the look in his eyes what he was asking about. There was no point in lying, and I wasn’t going to lie when he asked me something straight out like that.
“So, thereissomething going on?” he said. “You and ... Rio?”
I compressed my lips into a thin line, looked away, and tried to slow the breath that left me.
“What are you doing, man?” he asked, forcing me to look back at him.
No one could overhear us. Simon glanced over his shoulder, making sure that Nicole and Rio were still in the kitchen, out of earshot.
“It’s not what you think,” I finally said, sounding like every cheating fucker in the world.
“Really? Tell me what you think I think.”
“With Rio, it’s different.”
“Different how?”
“Different everything. What I feel. What I—”
“What you, what? When did this even start? Let me guess—you were bored all alone here with just her and Walter for company, so you took whatever was nearby.”
I should’ve seen that coming, but the blunt force of his words still knocked me off balance.
“That’s not how it happened.”
“Owen.” He just looked at me.Don’t bullshit me. He then clapped my shoulder again and steered us to the side of the house, away from everyone.
“I’m not bullshitting you. She and I ... we go back a long way. We’ve been friends forever. She’s not some rando.”
He huffed a half-scoff, clearly mad at my word choice.
“That’s not what I meant. I just mean that it happened ... organically.”
Simon’s expression turned flat. “What the fuck are you talking about? ‘Organically’ ... only because you came here, and you only came here because you were injured. It wouldn’t have happened if your knee was still functioning. You’d still be there, not messing around with her here. So don’t give me ‘organically.’ You and I are better than this.”
I ran a hand over my forehead, searching for words. I didn’t have them ready because, for days now, I’d been trying not to form them.
