He’s not wrong.
The door creaks again, and for a second, my heart lurches stupidly—thinking maybe it’s him.
It’s not.
Daniel steps in, his expression unreadable, the edges of his hair damp from sweat. He doesn’t say anything right away, just crosses the room and sits across from me, elbows on his knees, mirroring my posture.
“You okay?” he asks finally.
I let out a bitter laugh. “Do I look okay?”
He doesn’t smile. “Didn’t think so.”
We sit in silence for a while, the quiet stretching between us until it hurts.
Finally, he says, “You know he’s wrecked, right?”
My head snaps up. “He’s wrecked? You saw him just now. He’s pissed. I’m the one who—” I stop myself, swallowing hard. “No. You’re right. He’s hurt. Because of me.”
Daniel studies me carefully. “Because ofbothof you.”
I shake my head, jaw tight. “He doesn’t get it. My dad—he said things I can’t forget. Things I don’t even know how to unpack yet. I just—” I exhale hard, words breaking apart. “I didn’t mean to shut him out. I just couldn’t handle beinglooked at like I was something to be ashamed of. Not again.”
Daniel nods slowly, like he understands too well. “Yeah. That kind of shit sticks.”
I glance up, surprised by the quiet empathy in his tone.
He shrugs. “Been there. Family that doesn’t understand. Love that scares the hell out of you because it’s suddenly not safe to want it.”
“You ever figure it out?”
He lets out a soft breath. “Eventually. But not before I lost him. Took me a long time to realize I wasn’t punishing my dad—I was punishing myself. And when I did…” He swallows, giving me a sad smile. “He didn’t wait around.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I stay silent.
Daniel stands, grabbing his bag. “Logan’s hurt, Todd. You know that. But he’s not gone. Not yet.” He pauses, looking down at me. “Don’t wait too long to decide if you’re gonna chase him. Some doors don’t stay open forever.”
When he leaves, the room feels too big again.
I lean back against the cubby, staring at the scuffed tile floor, my throat burning.
The truth is, I want to chase him. I want to tell him I didn’t mean it—that I was scared, that my dad’s words still echo every time I look in the mirror.
But the part of me that’s still that in the kitchen hearing my dad say it’s just aphasejust… can’t move.
So I sit there, surrounded by silence and the echo of everything I didn’t say. Until the locker room empties out and it’s just me and my thoughts.
I’m not sure how long I sit there. Only that Coach checks on me once and goes back to his office, then he eventually tells me to lock up when Ileave.
He doesn’t leave right away, though. A few minutes later, I hear his boots on the tile and the creak of the bench as he sits across from me.
“You planning to live in here now?” he asks, voice rough but not unkind.
I manage a weak smile. “Didn’t seem worth leaving.”
Coach folds his arms, studying me the way he does before a game—as if he’s trying to figure out what play I’m running. “You and Brooks had words.”
“Something like that.”
