Reese was still chuckling at Marchetti's text — something about a minor-league bus breaking down in rural Manitoba, with the details becoming more and more absurd with each follow-up message — when she noticed that Cole had gone quiet across the kitchen floor. His pizza lay forgotten, and his hand was slipping into the jacket hanging off the back of a chair with a specific, deliberate stillness that made her pause mid-laugh.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by the change in his expression, as the lighthearted Tuesday-night atmosphere shifted into something more serious.
"I need to share something with you," he said, his voice trembling in a way she recognized immediately — that same quiver from the vending machine hallway, from the trainers' room the morning after their to
