Page 128 of With the Assist

Avery rolls her eyes. “Hey, I’m not judging. It’s working. Both of your coaches are off your backs. You’re both getting what you wanted.” She lifts her glass. “And next week you’re free.”

Free.

That word lands like a puck to the ribs.

I nod because the script says nod. Free sounds a lot like done and back to before.

We both know it’s the plan, but I’m sick of everyone around us pointing it out. All week, Wesley and I have let this be whatever it is. We’ve soaked up every fucking second and have managed to avoid the topic entirely. Now, our friends want to consistently remind us of it.

Wesley may not mind, but I do. It’s like they’re pre-drilling the hole for the knife Wesley is going to stab through my heart.

Now that the words are floating out there, Wesley seems distant. She’s still here, hand in mine, but she’s also in her head. I wish I knew what thoughts are swirling there.

When she sits up out of my grasp this time, I let her go. People move to the side as she carves out a path to the bar to get us all another round. I watch her go.

Avery waits until she is out of earshot. “Does my best friend know that this is real for you?”

“What?” I glance over at Avery, who sips her champagne casually.

“You heard me.” She smirks.

“You and Liam should get together. Maybe then you could interrogate each other instead of me.” I sigh, letting my breath out slowly.

“Way to dodge the question, Wilder.”

“She’s your best friend. Ask her.” My lips thin into a line. “She doesn’t want anything past next week.”

“Bullshit.”

“Not bullshit.”

“I know what she says, but I also know that she’s lying to herself as much as you.”

“Didn’t know you were a mind reader, Avery.” I tilt my head, raising my eyebrows.

Avery flings her red curls over her shoulder. “I’m not. But I am her best friend. And contrary to everything you might think you know about her, I know more.” She smiles and waves to Haley, who’s yelling her name from the dance floor. “And unless you do something, I’ll always know more.”

A world where Wesley slowly becomes a stranger to me sounds depressing and desolate.

“Tell her how you feel, Nathan,” Avery tosses the rest of her drink down, in preparation to take the next one from Wesley. “Prove to me that not all hockey players are idiots.”

My heart picks up pace at the possibility that Wesley might really want me the way I want her.

Avery’s up and moving, and my teammates fill her spot on the couch. Wesley passes a shot to Avery, who disappears toward the bar. My hand clings to the beer that Wesley hands me, while my other arm circles her waist, pulling her onto my lap.

I don’t miss the way that she sits carefully, as if to maintain the distance that Avery’s words created.

We have a little over half an hour until midnight, but the excitement has people talking louder. She leans into me so we can hear each other over it all.

“You okay?” She asks.

“Got evaluated by the panel,” I answer, nodding toward Liam sitting at the table behind us and then toward Avery chatting up some guy at the bar.

“Let’s hope they never get together. They’d be insufferable.”

“You think they’ll get together?” Grayson leans over, his eyes locked on Avery.

Wesley laughs. I try not to stare at her mouth when she does.