Nothing comes.
"Coach. You don't know what you're asking." I plead.
He looks at me for a long moment with an expression that makes me want to look away. An expression that looks right through me. "I do know," he says simply. "And I know you'll do it anyway."
I sit with that.
He's right. He's been right about me since freshman year and he knows it and I know it and that's the whole problem with Fitch — he always sees through me.
I exhale. Then I stand and grab my bag.
This is my fourth year on this team. My last year. Fitch took me under his wing when I was eighteen — extra sessions, film, hours in this office going over plays until we both knew them cold. He built me into a captain before I ever had the title. At some point, the line between coach and player blurred. He trusts me to help run this room, trusts my read on the team, trusts me to handle things before they ever make it to him. Believed in me before I’d done anything to earn it.
I don't take that lightly. I never have. He saw something in me from the start and I have spent every minute of every day earning it.
Before Rhys, we were one of the best teams in the conference. And before all of this I was the guy Fitch pointed to when he needed something done.
I want to be that guy again.
Which means I know exactly what I have to do.
I hate it.
But I know.
"Yes, Coach," I say. "I'll fix it, don’t worry."
He nods once.
I walk out before either of us has to say anything else.
Chapter 6
Rhys
The entire team is out tonight and honestly, thank god.
We need this. After the loss, after the emergency practice, after being benched in the tunnel like a kid sent to his room — we all need to remember we’re still in college and college occasionally involves something other than suffering.
I’m already feeling looser just walking in. The music is thumping, the air smells like stale beer and bad decisions, and half the team is already deep into both. One of our defensemen, Cooper, throws these ragers every week at his off campus place and he’s good at it. The kind of party that makes you forget what day it is.
I grab a beer from the kitchen, say my hellos, and find Bennett by the speaker setup in the corner. Our goalie is built like a small building and has somehow ended up in charge of the aux cable, which explains the pop music currently assaulting everyone’s ears. How he looks is a vast contradiction to how he acts and that’s hilarious to me. Most people find him wildly intimidating, but he’s really a teddy bear once you get to know him.
“Yo, Ben. Hand it over, buddy.”
He grins and tosses me the cable. I connect my phone and scroll until I find something with actual weight to it — heavy rock, loud and relentless — and the room shifts immediately. Better. Now maybe I can get out of my own head for five minutes.
I pat Ben on the back and take a long pull of my beer.
I shouldn’t have snapped at Jamie the way I did at the tunnel. I know I was late — I’m late a lot, that part’s fair. The chem lab swallowed me whole today and I’m trying to catch up on everything, but that’s not exactly a new excuse. I get it.
But the way he looked at me. Like I was just something he was tired of having to deal with. Like I wasn’t even worth the effort.
I take another sip and decide to let it go. At least for tonight.
Besides — word got around that Fitch pulled Jamie into his office after practice. I don’t know exactly what was said but the fact that it happened at all does lift my spirits. I hope he got a good, long talking to.
I smile to myself and head back toward the crowd.
