Page 152 of Ruthless Court

“The boys?”

“No, the cones.”

She looks at me.

“Yes, the boys.”

“They’re good kids.”

“They listen to you.”

“They listen when they understand why something matters.”

“That’s rare at thirteen.”

“It’s rare at twenty.”

I accept the shot.

“Where did you learn all that?”

Her attention returns to the passing lights.

“Gyms.”

“Your father?”

Silence.

“You shut down every time I ask about him.”

“Then notice the pattern and stop.”

Fair.

I turn onto the road leading back to Stanford.

“My coach drove me to school,” I say.

Hannah glances over.

“No bus ran from my neighborhood to the private school. Practice started before sunrise, so he picked me up every morning.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I did landscaping every summer and school break to pay for this truck. Even though I have NIL money now. I’ll never sell it. It’s a reminder that hard work earns. You think I woke up campus royalty.”

“I don’t think about you that much.”

“Liar.”

She bites another Twizzler.

“Basketball got me into rooms my parents couldn’t afford,” I continue. “It didn’t make people want me there.”

Her expression softens.

Barely.