Page 70 of With the Assist

I swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of my legs stretching beneath the table. The strength in my quads. The stability in my knees. Things I never think about unless something goes wrong.

“I couldn’t bring myself to watch the clip,” I admit, my gaze drifting to the condensation sliding down my water glass.

“She’s done,” Harper says, adding more salt to her chips. “There is no way she comes back from that again. Not at that level.”

Retirement. The word hovers unspoken but heavy, a looming specter that follows every professional athlete whether we acknowledge it or not. Careers don’t always end when we’re ready in sports. Sometimes, they end when our bodies decide they’re finished cooperating.

“I can’t imagine,” I murmur. “Training your whole life just to have it taken away because something snaps at the wrong moment.”

Harper lifts her glass, swirling the lime wedge thoughtfully. “Soccer isn’t everything.”

Avery glances up sharply. “It was for you.”

Just like that, we’ve stepped into our unspeakable territory. We may never fully understand Harper’s choice, but she’s made it clear we don’t need to. Avery tends to forget how to tread lightly.

Harper smiles, but it’s a little distant. “It was. And now it isn’t.”

I watch her for a second longer than necessary, thinking of the move she made for James, and the opportunity she walked awayfrom. Regret is complicated. It doesn’t always mean you made the wrong choice. Sometimes, it means the cost was higher than you expected.

The server appears, mercifully, and we order drinks and enough food to feed a small army. As the conversation shifts to tactics and formations, I relax.

This is familiar ground. Safe ground.

We fill Harper in on the new athletic trainer interning with the team, and she fills us in on her school’s latest teacher drama.

“So, the new history teacher is hooking up with the science teacher who’s married?” I ask, trying to keep up with what feels like a soap opera.

Avery snorts into her drink.

“Yup,” Harper says, popping the ‘p’ and nodding vigorously like she can’t believe it herself.

“There is nothing wrong with a workplace romance. Everything is wrong with an affair.” Avery shakes her head. “That, my friends, is why I don’t believe in love.”

We laugh, but I can’t help pushing her.

“You used to.”

“I used to be blinded by lust. Now, I can separate the two.” She cuts into her burrito as it’s set down in front of her.

And then, as if reading my mind, Avery’s eyes flick to my phone.

“So,” she says. “How’s Boston’s King of the Ice?”

I roll my eyes. “Dinner was going so well.”

Harper leans forward, interest piqued. “Oh no. You do not get to dodge that.”

“I am dodging it.” I take a bite of my chicken taco. “Successfully.”

Avery snorts. “You almost kissed him.”

I nearly choke. In a moment of weakness, I told Avery what happened with Nathan. I blame the extended period of stim treatment we were both doing post-lift this morning.

“That is not what happened.”

Harper’s eyebrows shoot up. “Almost kissed him?”

I fire daggers in Avery’s direction. “You promised not to say anything.”