Page 48 of Fragile (Cedar Lakes University #2)
Chapter forty-seven
Miles
Being here in the stadium, not feeling the buzz of my team around me, not having to go through the routine of pre-game practice and nutrition, has been one of the hardest things to accept today.
My team, my teammates, are all in the locker room, gearing up for the championship final against Idaho. I should be there with them. I should be on that field. But I’m also lucky to be here at all. After the meeting with the dean and my dad went sour, the follow-up was much calmer. Essentially, I’m allowed to stay in the school if I attend their version of group therapy every week, check in with my counselor, and have bi-monthly meetings with the dean himself. I also had to hand over Levi’s name and I heard he’s been expelled.
This morning, I attended my first counseling session. It’s not easy letting go of addiction, but it’s sure as hell easier than letting go of fear, inadequacy, and resentment. Those feel rooted in my mind, and I know even without therapy, the only way I’ll overcome them is when I talk to my dad again, which I haven’t done since the day he stormed out of the office. It needs to happen, but I’m not ready to let him in yet.
“Hey.” Indie walks up to the empty seat to my left and passes me a large Sprite.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it from her.
She nods. “You feeling okay?”
“I’m not gonna lie, this sucks.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“But I know they’ll win today. The team is strong, and my guys won’t back down.”
“They’ll miss you out there, without a doubt, but you’re going to be fine. Especially with my girl looking out for you.” She nudges my shoulder.
“I don’t know how I got so lucky with her.”
“I feel the same a lot of the time. Those Dawsons are a different breed, I swear. But if you tell her I said that, I will personally make sure you regret it.” There's a warmth in her voice, though, a genuine affection that softens the playful threat. It’s clear she cares about Quinn just as much as I do, and that thought settles something inside me.
I chuckle, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me. I wouldn’t dare.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Game chants start as teams are announced and players begin to charge from each locker entrance. The deafening rumble of the crowd barely lets up as the championship game unfolds on the field below. The pang of longing makes my ribs damn near rattle in my chest, but as I look down, searching for something—anything—to steady me, and that’s when I find her. Quinn. Her eyes lock onto mine, as if she’s been waiting for this moment, knowing exactly what I need. She gives me a little wink, her lips curving into the softest smile, and then she mouths, I love you .
My heart stumbles, then starts pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, like it’s trying to escape and race straight to her. I swallow the emotion threatening to rise, but I can’t hold back the smile. With a subtle nod, I mouth back, I love you too , my gaze never leaving hers. In that second, it feels like the crowd, the noise, the game—everything—fades. All that’s left is her.
She owns every single piece of me.
From the stands, I watch the game unfold, my breath hitching with every play. My eyes stay glued to my team— my guys —fighting with everything they’ve got. And even though I’m not on that field, every tackle, every pass, every sprint feels like a part of me is still there, right alongside them.
The clock ticks down, the score tight and the tension even tighter. But as the final minutes approach, our team pulls ahead with a brilliant play—a last-minute touchdown from my replacement that seals the game. The crowd erupts in cheers, the booming noise of victory echoing around the stadium. I can’t help the swell of pride that rises in my chest as I watch my team, our team, celebrate the win we’ve all worked so hard for.
The guys are hugging, shouting, some even dropping to their knees in disbelief. I can see the sheer joy on their faces, the culmination of months—no, years—of effort, dedication, and relentless determination. Indie’s screaming and jumping next to me. I chuckle because this is the girl who refused to come to Seb’s game at first, and now look at her.
Just as I’m soaking it all in, Coach suddenly turns, scanning the stands until his eyes land on me. For a moment, I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but then he motions for me to come down. At first, I hesitate, unsure if I should, but the look in his eyes is insistent, and I know better than to piss off our coach.
“Get your ass down here, Cooper,” he shouts, and my feet move as though I’m running drills for him, muscle memory taking over as I weave my way down to the field.
“Coach, congratulations on the win,” I say as I approach him.
“You might not have been out there today, Miles, but this win is yours too,” he says, his hand landing on my shoulder with a firm, reassuring grip. His eyes meet mine, filled with sincerity, and I can feel the weight of his words sinking in. “You helped build this team. You belong down here with us, son.”
His honesty hits me like a punch, knocking the air out of my lungs. I can’t speak for a moment, my throat tight, the familiar ache of always striving to meet my dad’s expectations suddenly feeling so distant, so small in comparison. This—what I’m feeling right now—is different. It’s like something has shifted inside me, a relief taking over that has nothing to do with the victory on the field and everything to do with the people around me.
I glance around at the guys, at the way they’re grinning and celebrating, but still keeping me in their orbit, not as an outsider but as one of them. Even though I haven’t been on the field, haven’t worn the jersey today, they’re including me like I was right there beside them, every step of the way.
It’s more than just friendship; it’s something deeper, something I never knew I needed so badly until this moment, yet I’ve had it all along. This is belonging, pure and simple. It’s not about the goals I’ve been pushing myself toward, the ones that were always tied to my dad’s approval. No, this is about being seen, being valued for who I am, not for what I can achieve on the field. These guys, my team—no, my family—they’re here for me, whether I’m on the field or not. And that realization is like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for too long.
Coupled with the fact that I know I’ve got my girl by my side, and I didn’t know I could feel so lucky.
I swallow hard, trying to find the right words, but all I can manage is a nod, my voice lost somewhere in the flood of emotions swirling inside me. But that’s okay. The look in their eyes says enough, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Then the guys are pulling me in, slapping my back, ruffling my hair, and suddenly I’m surrounded by my teammates, by my brothers.
“Miles!” Hudson shouts, grabbing me in a tight hug. “You’re here.”
Seb is practically bouncing with excitement, jumping into the group hug. “Man, this is unreal. Two years in a fucking row, baby!”
“Guys, I need to breathe.” I laugh as they finally let go. “I’m so fucking proud of you guys,” I say, grinning from ear to ear.
“We’re so fucking proud of you, too,” Seb says as he pulls me in for an even bigger bear hug than Hudson.
“Jeez, you all look like you love me or something,” I tease, patting Seb’s back.
He releases me, his eyes green eyes shining. “We do. We’re serious about us all being there for you.”
“Yeah,” Hudson adds. “Just because you carry it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy, Miles. We’ve got you.”
“Dude, that’s profound coming from you.” I chuckle, but the sound is watery, full of emotion.
Hudson smiles. “I know, I have my moments.” He slaps my shoulder, then says, “Now, I don’t know about you two, but I need to get my perfectly peachy ass to a party.”
“Perfectly peachy ass?” I laugh, because that’s more like it.
“You know it’s true.”
“I don’t make a habit of looking at your ass, Huds.”
“You should, it’s delightful.”
“Peachy, I’ve heard.”
Benny, my replacement, jogs over to us. “Hey, man, great game. That last touchdown was something else.” I offer my hand to him.
“Thanks, Cooper. That means a lot. If I can be half the player you are, I’ll be happy.”
Hearing that makes something tighten in my chest. Half the player I am? I’m not sure how to take it. Part of me feels a rush of pride—yeah, I spent years on this team, worked hard to get here, to be someone they look up to—but another part feels...uneasy. Like they’re seeing me as something more than I am, or more than I ever was. How my career ended was less than ideal, but I take full responsibility for it, and if I can pass on any wisdom to anyone…
I slap his shoulder, keeping my hand there. “Stick to the path, even when it feels like everything’s falling apart. Trust your team—they’ll get you through the rough patches.”
He grins at me, that familiar sparkle still in his eyes, and I know this kid will go far.
“Oh, and get us to the playoffs again next year, yeah?”
As we walk off the field, I feel like I achieved so much more than the win tonight.