This could be my last week.
Not just basketball.
Everything.
Last week of practice before the world takes another piece, and I’m too tired to pretend I can keep up.
My stomach flips.
I hesitate half a beat on a pass.
It’s enough for the defender to get a hand on it.
The ball skitters, and Coach’s whistle shrieks.
“Rhodes,” he snaps. “What the hell was that?”
Heat flares behind my eyes.
I jog back, jaw tight. “My bad.”
Coach’s gaze cuts through me. “You good?”
I swallow hard.
“Won’t happen again,” I say, flatly.
Coach studies me, expression hard. Then he nods once like he’s not buying it, but he’s letting it go—for now.
We restart.
I try. Ireallytry.
But my focus keeps drifting to the house I left behind—Pops in his recliner, his walker parked too close like it belongs. Cameron washing a mug that probably didn’t need washing. Logan quiet on the couch with his brace and his ice pack, his eyes tracking the hallway like he’s counting what we don’t say.
Coach blows the whistle again.
“That’s enough for today,” he says, walking off the court.
I practically sprint to my bottle, because if I stop moving completely, I might actually collapse.
Jade and Blakely flank me like they always do, a silent formation.
Jade tips her head. “Okay. Talk.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
Blakely arches a brow. “Do you want me to list the ways that’s not true, or do you want to make it easy and just admit you’re not fine?”
I glare. “You’re both annoying.”
Jade grins. “We know.”
My breath immediately starts coming in shorter bursts, and it has nothing to do with the physical strain that I’ve just put my body through.
Jade’s voice is steady. “You don’t have to make it smaller.”
My chest tightens. “I’m not?—”
