White has not played since breaking his leg in the first game of the season, an injury that sidelined him for the year. The team expects him to return as the starter in 2026 once fully recovered.
In his absence, Blair Miller has taken over kicking duties, becoming the first woman to play in the NFL after the Cosmos’ two backup options fell through. Miller’s historic debut has drawn national attention and widespread praise.
Despite the setback, White remains upbeat about his future. “I love this team, and I can’t wait to be back out there,” he added. “Right now, it’s all about rehab and getting ready to help the Cosmos win again.”
Thirty-Five
Blair
Agrinpullsatmy lips as I arrive at Embers and Ashes—coffee in one hand, keys in the other, a whole list of things I wanted to tackle before sunrise. The gym always looks a little sleepy this early, like it’s holding its breath before the day kicks off. I love it like this. Quiet. Mine.
But this morning, something feels… not quite right. At first, I can’t place it as I walk to the front door. Something uneasy settle in my gut in the darkness of an early December morning.
Then I see the front window.
I stop walking. My keys dangle from my hand but my coffee hits the sidewalk, painting the snow and cement. The glass is shattered—spiderwebbed, like someone had gone at it with a bat. And across the front, black spray paint screams at me in blocky, uneven letters.FUCKING BITCH.
Closing my eyes, I take a few breaths—hoping it’s just a dream. But when I open them, the glass is still broken, and the spray paint is everywhere. Looking up, I see the name of my gym is also shattered, many of the lights no longer working.
My gym. The place I built. Fought for. The thing I’ve poured into for years of my life. My safe space which no longer feels that way. I look around, making sure no one is watching me—a typical feeling for most women simply trying to exist.
Taking a step closer, broken glass crunches under my sneaker. When I get closer to the front door, I find it’s red spray paint this time,NOT WORTH IT, smaller but still clear as day.
My stomach drops as the realization hits me but it’s not even that surprising.Oscar. Or someone Oscar got to do his dirty work. There’s no way this is a coincidence. Honestly, it has his cowardice all over it. His smirk, the way he couldn’t handle a woman taking up space. I should’ve known after the way he acted at the facility—that weird possessiveness about football, about grilling Dylan about therealreason I was there.
This is different. It’s not some dumb insult thrown across a practice facility or said loud enough that everyone could overhear. This was calculated. Violent.
I can’t move. My legs felt stuck in place, like if I walked any closer I’d see something even worse. My hand grips the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles hurt. A thunderous heartbeat, one too fast, fills my ears as I try to catch my breath.
Putting my key in the lock, I slowly open the door, afraid someone may be waiting inside. I’m only a few steps in when I realize it’s untouched. Nothing looks out of place but instead like a typical morning, one I’ve had a hundred times.
Inside, it still looks like my gym. But right now, it doesn’t feel like it. And that’s what does it—this is what sends me over the edge. I dial 911 as tears stream down my face. As the operator answers, I rush to lock the door and turn on all the lights inside.
How is it in the place that I’ve built and designed, from scratch, no longer feels like my own?
I’mtakingtheelevatorup to Tyson’s place. After calling the police and dealing with the media—who couldn’t move fast enough to get pictures of the damage—I’m completely spent. As if that weren’t enough, I just got off an emergency call with the Athlala board to discuss what happened and what this means for the future of our expansion sites. They decided to postpone any work or plans on the new locations, just until things calm down, maybe until we have answers.
I didn’t tell them I already have an idea who did it. That’s between me and the police. After explaining my run-in with Oscar, paired with Benny firing him, the officers agreed it was enough to question him—and with help from Dylan and the Cosmos’ front office, maybe even get a search warrant.
It’s only eight in the morning, but it feels like I’ve already lived an entire day. When I called Tyson, he was out for breakfast with Teague. He told me to go to his place and that he’d be back soon.
The moment I close the door behind me, a wave of relief hits. I breathe in slowly, trying to steady myself. If I think too hard about everything, I’ll spiral. I just need a few quiet minutes—let the insurance company call, take the next step, one at a time.
I move to the kitchen, dropping my bag on the counter, and notice something rolled out across the bar. Blueprints. Or something close to it. I’m not snooping, not really—but when I see an envelope sticking out from underneath, curiosity wins. I pull it out.
Tyson—here’s the first couple of ideas for your property in Brindlewick.
Brindlewick. His hometown.His property.My heart dips. What property? Since when?
I look closer. The plans show layouts, a map, and some land markers. His parents’ home. The cabin. And right next to them—a new plot, labeledTyson Bishop Residence.
He’s building a house.
I’m still staring at the lines on the page when the front door opens. Tyson rushes in, practically out of breath. He wraps his arms around me from behind, squeezing tight.
“Baby, are you okay?” he asks.
I turn on the stool to face him, holding the plans between us. “What’s this? Because It looks like it’s by your parents’ place. In Michigan.”
