She stands a minute later.
“I need to go,” she says quietly. “I have to prep for study hall later.”
She doesn’t look at me.
She leaves.
And the booth feels like a grave.
Coach waits until she’s out the door before he speaks again.
“I never thought I’d have to say any of this,” he mutters. “I’m a coach. Not a damn politician.”
I exhale, hands clasped under the table.
He studies me.
Thinks.
Then sighs.
“I don’t know what’s happening between you two,” he says, voice low. “I’m not asking. I don’t want to know.”
I nod once.
“But I do know this,” he continues, leaning back. “Her shoulders weren’t up around her ears one single time during that meal.”
My chest tightens painfully.
He isn’t wrong.
When she’s scared, stressed, overwhelmed—she curls inward like she’s protecting vital organs.
During brunch, despite the news, despite the grant, despite sitting next to the guy who stalked her—she didn’t. She leaned toward me.
“She trusts you,” he says. “Even when she’s angry. Even when she’s confused. That matters.”
I swallow hard.
“But,” he adds, tone sharpening, “Alistair Reid plays with people like poker chips. If you two keep this up, the fallout won’t hit only you. It’ll hit her. It’ll hit this team. Hell, it’ll hit me.”
I meet his eyes. “I know.”
He nods once, gets up, leaves a generous tip, and walks toward the door.
Before he exits, he turns back.
“Whatever you decide… don’t make my daughter collateral damage.” Then he leaves.
I step outside into the cold. The air bites my cheeks. My breath ghosts out in a fog. The sky is colorless.
Talia is nowhere in sight. Just the faint trace of her shampoo on the breeze. I stand there a long moment, staring down the street she disappeared down.
Then a single, sharp thought slices through everything else: I’m done letting my father choose my life. I’m done letting fear set the terms. I belong to her—whether she wants me or not yet. And I’m going to prove it. In every way that counts. In the light, not the dark. Starting now.
Chapter 21
Talia
