Page 24

Chapter twenty-four

Alex

"T his better not be one of those dinners where the main course is a scoop of mashed potatoes shaped like a flower," James mutters, tugging at his bowtie.

"Just be glad the dress code didn’t include skates," I say, adjusting my cuffs.

"Think they’ll serve protein shakes with the salad course?" James continues.

Parker, walking a few steps ahead of us, glances over his shoulder. "Please behave. Bessie made me promise not to embarrass the team."

"Too late," Ethan says, already halfway through a pack of mints. "I’m in a bowtie. Damage is done."

Connor snorts. "Let’s just hope tonight doesn’t end with James giving an acceptance speech that isn’t his."

The five of us—me, Connor, James, Parker, and Ethan—file into the ballroom in slow formation like we’re preparing for a ceremonial faceoff. The place is decked out: chandeliers overhead, white tablecloths, strings of lights wound around indoor trees like it’s prom night for the psychology elite. It’s not exactly our usual Friday.

But tonight’s not about us.

It’s about Nina.

Derek and Lizzie are already inside. Coach sees us enter and gives me a subtle nod. We made it. The rest of the Acers are still at home or laying low, but we five? We suit up for our girl.

A white card marks our territory: Dr. Nina Erwin Fan Club. James reads it and immediately snaps a picture.

"Group chat material," he says.

"Please don’t post that," I mutter.

"Oh, I won’t," he says. "Not until tomorrow. Maybe with a filter. Maybe not."

I settle into my seat, but I can’t relax. Not yet. I keep checking the entrance like it’s the penalty box and we’re waiting for our guy to get released.

Because I want to see her face when she realizes we’re here.

And then, she walks in.

She’s with her friend Patty and two people I instantly clock as her parents—her mom with the same almond eyes, her dad walking like he’s half protective and half curious. But all I really see is her.

Nina is in a dark emerald dress that hugs her curves and flows just enough to make the entire room feel like it dimmed around her. She looks effortless and completely breathtaking.

She spots Coach and Lizzie first. Smiles. Waves.

Then her eyes shift.

They land on us.

She freezes. A blink. Her mouth parts just slightly, then her hand comes up to cover it. Patty follows her gaze and lets out a little squeal.

I stand up, slow, letting it hit her.

"Surprise," I say.

Her eyes are shining before she even reaches the table.

"You guys came?"

"Well," James says, grinning, "we heard there’d be dinner rolls and speeches. We can’t resist either."

Parker stands and hugs her first. Then Ethan. Then James, who mutters, “You smell like competence and good decisions.”

She laughs through a teary smile and finally gets to me.

"Hi," she says softly.

"Hi," I reply, trying not to say everything I’m thinking.

She wraps her arms around me. I hold her like I’m anchoring both of us.

"You didn’t have to do this," she murmurs near my ear.

"Yeah, I did."

She pulls back just enough to look at me. That look. The one where she sees too much.

We reintroduce ourselves to Patty, who instantly charms the guys, and to her parents, who surprise the hell out of me by being completely lovely. Her dad talks hockey with Coach and James like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

"You got a strong team this year," he says, nodding. "That Henderson kid—fast hands. Love the grit."

James pretends to faint. "Tell my coach! I’ve been saying that for weeks."

Coach just smirks. Lizzie leans toward Nina’s mom. "They’re like this all the time."

Her mom laughs and sips her wine. “I can see why Nina likes working with them. They’re impossibly charming."

And I swear, in that moment, Nina looks lighter, like some invisible weight she’s been carrying around has lifted, even just a little.

And I know we did the right thing by showing up tonight.

I just don’t know how I’ll handle it when the lights go down and I have to pretend she’s not becoming everything I want.

The dinner is served in courses too fancy for any of us to pronounce. James tries to guess what every dish is just based on shape. Ethan gives everything a Yelp-style rating.

"This salad’s dressed like it’s got something to prove," Ethan mutters.

"Tastes like it got dressed up for a date, was ghosted, and ended up on our plates," James adds, stabbing at the lettuce like it personally offended him.

Connor chuckles and just shakes his head at James.

Parker, ever the diplomat, just grins. "Honestly, the bread’s the MVP so far."

Nina keeps glancing across the table, smiling softly when she catches me watching her. She looks poised and composed, but I know her well enough now to see the nerves. The tight grip on her napkin. The slight way she exhales before a toast. She’s usually brilliant under pressure, but this means something to her. This is personal.

The lights dim just slightly, and the emcee returns to the podium, tapping the mic with a practiced smile. “Let’s begin our presentation of tonight’s honors,” he announces, and the gentle clink of silverware dies down around the room.

The first few awards are recognitions for academic excellence, lifetime service, and contributions to research. Applause swells, polite and respectful, as names are read and photos flash on the screen behind the stage.

James leans toward me and whispers, "If I ever get one of these, I’m demanding pyrotechnics."

"A couple of birthday candles sounds about right," I mutter back.

The emcee clears his throat, holding a crisp white envelope. “Tonight’s final award is one we present once per year, and only when a candidate stands out not only for their achievements, but for their impact and their ability to influence, to inspire, and to lead.”

He pauses as a soft spotlight glows. “This year’s recipient has served both active-duty service members and professional athletes, helping each find their strength through the quiet work of the mind. She’s known for her empathy, her strategic brilliance, and her unwavering dedication to those she serves. It is my great honor to present the Distinguished Performance in Applied Sport Psychology Award to Dr. Nina Erwin.”

And then, the whole room breaks into applause.

I’m on my feet first.

Our table follows instantly.

Her parents stand, eyes misty. Patty practically bounces in place.

Nina rises slowly, hands smoothing her dress. She smiles, all grace and poise, and makes her way to the podium.

Her voice is steady, but I see the tremor in her fingers where they grip the edges of the mic.

"I didn’t expect this," she begins. "But I’m incredibly honored."

She thanks her early mentors, her professors, her colleagues in the military—who taught her what resilience really looks like. She thanks her parents, for teaching her grit and empathy. Then she shifts slightly.

"And I want to thank my current team, the Detroit Acers."

Our table whistles. James yells, “Let’s go, Doc!” and gets elbowed by Parker.

Nina grins. “They’ve reminded me of the power of trust, growth, and unspoken support. They’ve challenged me, made me laugh, made me think harder, and occasionally made me consider early retirement. But I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

She looks at me when she says it.

Just for a second.

But it hits.

"Mental resilience isn’t about perfection," she finishes. "It’s about choosing to keep showing up. Even when it’s hard. Even when you’re scared. That choice is where the magic is."

The applause is thunderous.

When she returns to the table, we all stand again.

Connor clinks his water glass with a knife and gives her a bow. Ethan’s tearing up and pretending he’s not. Her dad is holding her mom’s hand, eyes full of pride.

And I know what I have to do.

I rise, glass in hand.

James mutters, "Uh-oh. Is this going to be poetic or embarrassing?"

"Hopefully both," I say.

Everyone quiets.

I look at her.

"To Nina," I say, voice carrying. "The newest supporting backbone of our team, next to Coach Stephens. The calm in every storm. And the woman who’s made me, and all of us, better just by being who she is."

She blinks fast. Doesn’t speak.

"You push us, you believe in us, and you somehow still put up with James."

Laughter.

"You say your job is to help us find clarity," I continue. "But you’ve been the clarity we didn’t know we needed."

I raise my glass higher.

"To the smartest, strongest, most stunning woman in the room, and the one who saves us daily. Cheers, Doc."

Everyone joins in.

She mouths, “Thank you.”

I give her that look. The one that says everything else I can’t right now.

Later, as the crowd filters out, I find her near the back doors of the ballroom.

Her parents are chatting with Coach and Lizzie, laughter drifting through the air.

I step closer and brush her hand lightly with mine.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

She exhales slowly, like she’s finally letting herself feel it. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

I smile. “That’s because you’re not used to people applauding you like they should.”

She laughs, soft and honest. “I’m not used to any of this.”

I squeeze her hand. “Well, get used to it. You’ve built something incredible. We’re all lucky to be part of it.”

She opens her mouth like she wants to say something more, but instead just smiles and squeezes my hand back.

I don’t push.

Just smile back.

She leans into me, resting her head on my chest for just a second. "Thanks for being here tonight. It was a wonderful surprise."

I feel a promise building in my chest. A quiet, unshakable vow forming without words: whatever she needs, whatever comes next, I’ll fight for us. Even if she’s not ready to say it yet... I already have. And now I have to convince her.