Page 177 of With the Assist

Nathan stands and wraps his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. “You’re not really leaving it. You left most of the furniture for your dad. And with your sister transferring to the university here, you’re bound to have endless family dinners there.”

I smile, warmth spreading through my chest. “I know. It feels like closing a chapter.”

“Or starting another,” he says quietly.

He has a way of calming my anxiety and quieting the pressure that used to overtake me. I sink into him, grinning.

My dad’s going to be a fifteen-minute drive away, and my sister’s starting fresh. For the first time in a long time, my family feels like it’s moving toward something instead of being stuck in the past.

“I’m actually excited,” I say. “I get to have them close without being stuck in all the hard memories.”

He presses a kiss to my temple. “You deserve that.”

I turn in his arms, looking up at him. At the man who chose me publicly, stubbornly, for real. At the life we’re building without pretending it’s temporary.

“And what about you?” I ask

“We’ll see how lunch goes.” He huffs out a laugh. “I can’t believe my parents actually offered to take me out to celebrate my contract extension.”

“I’m glad they are coming around,” I say, nudging him toward the door.

“Only because of you.” He gives me another kiss, our hands lingering on each other.

“Go sign your contract, superstar.”

He grins.

My phone starts ringing. I see the screen and freeze.

Coach Folley.

Nathan notices immediately. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t respond, already having answered. “Hi, Coach.”

Nathan hovers, suddenly very alert.

“Wesley,” Coach Folley says, all business. “I’ll get right to it. We finalized the roster this morning.”

My throat goes dry. The hallway feels too narrow. I’d given up hope for this call. The roster is always finalized right around now, at the end of June, but I assumed most already knew if they made it.

I have mentally prepared myself for the disappointment. There are other years and opportunities. This won’t make or break me.

“You’ve been selected for the National Team roster.”

For a second, I don’t breathe.

“Oh,” I manage, which is wildly inadequate for the moment I’ve been working toward since I was a kid kicking a ball against a cracked driveway. “Thank you. I… Thank you. You won’t regret this.”

“I know I won’t,” he says. “Look, I have more of these calls to make. Someone will reach out for a more detailed conversation. Enjoy the moment. You’ve earned it.”

The call ends just like that.

I stare at my phone as if it might explode.

Nathan’s voice is careful now. “Wes?”

I look up at him and promptly lose my mind.