NOVA
He was on time again. That was the only thing that carried over from last session.
Everything else was locked down. He walked in at 2:00 PM, sat in the leather chair, and crossed his arms. Cap low. Jaw set. The man who had texted me about volleyball at 3 AM was gone. The captain was back.
I had expected this. The walk and the texts had been an anomaly. Unstructured. Unscheduled. They had happened in the dark, outside the building, in a space that didn’t belong to either of our professional identities. This room did. This room had a desk and a legal pad and a power dynamic, and Cole Harrington knew exactly how to behave in rooms with power dynamics.
I picked up my pen. Clicked it once.
“How are you feeling this week?”
“Fine.”
“How’s the team looking ahead of the road stretch?”
