Not today.
—
Coach Harding looks up as I approach, his gaze flicking to my knee sleeve, then my face.
“Brooks.”
“Coach,” I say, voice steady, as my eyes flick over to Carter.
Carter’s smile turns into a smirk—one of those easy, infuriating expressions that used to make the entire locker room want to both fight him and follow him into battle.
“Hey there, pretty boy,” Carter says. “Do I know you?”
Lyla’s eyes brighten when she sees me. “Logan.”
“Lyla,” I reply. “Didn’t think you’d be back in town.”
She shrugs. “Off-season for Carter, and Dad missed me.”
Coach Harding makes a sound that might be a scoff if he wasn’t smiling. “She misses my credit card.”
Lyla rolls her eyes. “That’s not true.”
“It’s a little true.” Carter’s grin widens before waggling his brows. “But mine’s better.”
She elbows him without looking, and he takes it like he’s happy to be hit.
The familiarity is…strange.
It makes me feel like time is moving too fast.
Coach Harding gestures between them. “Carter and Lyla were in town for a visit, and someone wanted to stop by and chat with you.”
Carter looks me over, slow and deliberate, and I hate how much it feels like being evaluated.
Then he nods once, almost approving.
“Been hearing good things,” he says.
My brows lift. “Like what?”
Carter’s smirk deepens. “Like that you’re not being a complete shithead anymore.”
Beck makes a choking noise behind me.
Coach Harding’s mouth twitches like he’s trying his absolute best not to laugh.
I roll my eyes. “I was never a complete shithead.”
Carter’s eyes go wide in fake surprise. “Oh, my bad. Just a partial shithead.”
Lyla snorts and shakes her head. “He was awful last year.”
“Traitors,” I mutter.
Coach Harding points at me like he’s calling a play. “Don’t act brand new. You had a mouth and made some very questionable decisions.”
“I still do,” I say.
