“And you came here anyway.”
“I had an appointment. I’m very responsible now. Cooper would be proud.”
She doesn’t bite at the joke. She never takes the bait first.
“Last time you were here, you described feeling like you were ‘skating around with your head underwater,’” she says. “Is that still true?”
I shift, the cushion sighing under my weight, like it’s annoyed with me, too. “Things are different now. New team. New start.”
“And the underwater feeling?”
I stare at a spot on the carpet until the pattern smears. “Depends on the day.”
“Tell me about today.”
The elevator flashes in my mind. Alycia’s eyes meeting mine when the doors slid shut. Her saying she needed a fake boyfriend, and my mouth agreeing before my brain could catch up, because some part of me has been waiting months to be pulled back into her orbit.
“It was a big day. Cooper gave me the official Timberwolves welcome and the ‘act like a professional’ speech.”
“And how did that feel?”
“Like being fifteen again,” I admit, hearing the edge in my own voice and hating it. “Like I’m back on the old rink at home, waiting to hear if I did enough to make the cut.”
“Did you?”
“Back then? Yeah. Now? Who knows. Cooper looks at me like I’m a problem he’s trying to solve. Says it’s expectations, but it feels a lot like doubt. And when people expect you to screw up, it’s hard not to feel like you’re halfway there.”
She nods and writes something down, not interrupting my thoughts.
“You mentioned something similar in our first session. That it’s hard to tell the difference between someone wanting you to succeed and someone waiting for you to fail.”
“You must have a great memory.”
“I wrote it down,” she says, tone dry.
A corner of my mouth twitches. “Right. There’s that.”
“Has anything shifted since then?”
Beau’s tired smile flashes through my head. The slight tremor in his hand. Cole calling me a walking headline like it’s a joke and not a warning. Cooper's eyes softening for half a second before the coach mask slammed back into place.
“Beau is doing better. Alise has him on a schedule with actual meals and sleep. Cole is still Cole. Cooper is still trying to run the universe.” I shrug. “So, no. Same movie, just a new arena.”
“And you?”
I pick at a loose thread on my jeans before I unravel the whole damn thing. “I’m trying not to be the guy everyone has to clean up after.”
“That’s their story. What’s yours?”
I look up, and for a second, I’m just tired. Tired of my own voice in my head calling me a screwup before anyone else can.
“I’m not a screwup,” I say quietly, “no matter how much people look at me like I am one.”
“That sounds more honest.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Silence settles between us, giving me room to hear my own heartbeat trying to climb into my throat.
