"Oh. Uh, sure. Later then?—"
"I said not now."
Silence.
Then the door clicked shut. Footsteps retreated down the hall.
I exhaled hard, dragging both hands down my face. Andrew didn't deserve that. He'd done nothing wrong except exist at the wrong moment.
Get it together.
I tried to refocus on the screen. Maddox's line change. Sloppy timing. Wyatt's defensive coverage—too aggressive, leaving gaps. Things I should've been cataloging, noting, preparing to correct.
Instead, all I could see was Olivia's hand brushing Ben's arm. Her laugh. The way her guard dropped around him.
The way it never dropped around me.
Another knock.
"What." Flat. Unfriendly.
The door opened anyway. Coach Barrett leaned against the frame, arms crossed, studying me with that patient, assessing look that made players confess before he even asked the question.
"You good?"
"Fine."
"Crown just left looking like you bit his head off."
I didn't answer.
Barrett stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He didn't sit. Just stood there, waiting.
"I'm fine," I repeated.
"You've been wound tight all week. Distracted during practice. Snapping at players. That's not you." He paused. "What's going on?"
Everything.
Nothing I can explain.
A girl I have no right to think about is unraveling every ounce of control I've built.
"Just tired," I said instead.
Barrett's expression didn't change. He knew I was lying. I knew he knew. Neither of us acknowledged it.
"Take tonight off," he said finally. "Get some sleep. Clear your head. We need you sharp tomorrow."
I nodded. Waited until he left. Then stared at the frozen frame on my screen—Maddox mid-stride, stick angled wrong, shoulders too high.
I couldn't afford distractions. Not in this job. Not with this team depending on me.
My entire life was built on discipline. Control. Keeping emotions locked down so tight they couldn't interfere with what mattered.
And she was dismantling all of it without even trying.
She was safer if I stayed away. Safer if I kept my distance and let her live her life without the weight of my past, my darkness, my inability to be anything other than what I was.
