The text arrived at 11:23 PM on a Friday, and Leo's blood ran cold.
Coach, I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. – Kai
Leo stared at the screen, his heart pounding, his knee throbbing. He dialed Kai's number. It went straight to voicemail. He dialed again. Voicemail. He texted back: “Where are you? Call me.”
No response.
Leo grabbed his keys, his whistle still around his neck, and limped to his car. His wife called out from the bedroom. “Leo? What's wrong?”
“I don't know. I'll be back.”
He drove to Kai's apartment. The lights were off. The parking lot was empty. He pounded on the door. No answer. He checked the gym. Empty. He checked the park where Kai sometimes ran. Empty.
Leo sat in his car, his hands shaking, his mind racing. Kai had been struggling. The competition with David had
