behind the camera - fake dating sports romance (wlw)

Chapter Twenty-Four

MILLIE

Julian's going to lose his shit. Not because I left practice-players walk off the ice for a hundred reasons-but because I used the words family emergency and forgot, for one incredibly stupid second, that my coach also happens to be my uncle.
And unlike the league, Julian knows exactly who counts as "family" in my life.

By the time I make it into the locker room the next morning, the tension is already thick in the air. Everyone goes quiet when I walk in. Even the rookies look nervous, like they're waiting for a bomb to go off.

He doesn't even wait until warm-ups to pull me aside.

"You made me worry sick, Amelia."

His voice is sharp but not raised. That's worse. Those ice-blue eyes of his land on me like a slap, and suddenly I'm ten years old again, getting caught sneaking out past curfew with Gracie.

"I thought something happened to your moms," he says. "Or your sisters. You didn't give a damn explanation. Just left."

"I had to." I meet his stare without flinching. "Harper needed me."

He groans like I've personally betrayed him. "Harper. Your roommate, Millie. Not family."

I cross my arms. "She was sick. She had no one else."

"You think you're the only person on this team with people they care about? You don't get to walk off the ice in the middle of a run-through unless there's blood or fire."

I shrug, but my jaw tightens. "I'm a Bennett."

"You sure as hell are," he mutters. "I thought you'd be the easy one."

"Well, sorry to disappoint." My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. "You should've known better than to expect 'easy' from this family."

He sighs. "Luna was a professional. A captain."

"My mom," I interrupt, "skipped half a season to stay by Mom's side when she was hurt. She flew home in the middle of playoffs just because Mom had a fever."

"That was her wife, Millie. Harper is not your-"

"I know," I snap. Silence crackles between us. "I know she's not my wife. Jesus."

I run a hand through my hair, pacing a step. My pulse is still loud in my ears from last night, from the way Harper had leaned into me, feverish and dazed, whispering, "No one's ever taken care of me like this before."

"She's not my wife," I say again, quieter this time. "But I'd do it again."

Julian stares at me for a long beat, and then he shakes his head, rubbing his temples. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

"Whatever you want. Just tell me so I can leave."

He doesn't say anything at first. Just sighs again like he's been holding his breath since I walked in.

"I'm benching you for the first ten minutes of the game tomorrow."

I nod once. Fair. I expected worse.

"Millie," he says before I can turn to leave. "Just... be careful, okay?"

I frown. "With what?"

"Whatever this thing is." His voice softens just enough to make it feel personal. "Don't let it take your eyes off the ice."

He means it like a warning, a reminder of what's at stake. And I know he's not wrong-he's my coach. But it still hits sideways. Still pisses me off more than it probably should.