The bus ride to the arena was quiet in a way that felt louder than any locker-room trash talk. I sat near the back, earbuds in but no music playing, staring out at the gray morning light. My gear bag rested heavy against my leg like an anchor. Across the aisle, Caleb sat with his arms crossed, jaw locked, staring straight ahead. We hadn’t spoken since he left my room, but I could still feel the ghost of his hand on my thigh and the raw promise in his voice.
Coach Harlan sat up front, reviewing notes on his tablet. He’d been unusually quiet all morning—too quiet. I’d always thought he was one of the fair ones, the coach who valued talent over everything. Now I wondered.
As the bus pulled into the arena lot, Caleb shifted seats and dropped into the one beside me. The rest of the team was a
