“I will.”
I hung up and sat there for a while, listening to Tanner move around the kitchen. The clink of dishes. The sizzle of oil in a pan. The quiet sounds of someone who’d learned to navigate crisis by keeping busy.
Then I stood up and went to find my keys.
Coach Bradley’s office was exactly how I remembered it—cramped, cluttered, walls covered in photos of former players who’d made it to the pros. I’d spent hours in this room over the past four years, getting feedback on my performance, discussing strategy, listening to speeches about dedication, sacrifice, and what it meant to be a Gray Wolf.
Now I was here to tell him I was done.
“Landry.” He looked up from his desk, surprise flickering across his weathered face. “Didn’t expect to see you today. Figured you’d be taking it easy until practice tomorrow.”
“That’s what I came to talk about.” I closed the door behind me. “I’ve been cleared.”
“I heard. Doc sent over the paperwork this morning.” He leaned back in his chair. “You ready to get back out there?”
I took a breath. “No.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Coach’s expression didn’t change, but I could see his posture stiffen.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean I’m done.” I kept my voice steady, even though my heart was pounding. “For good. I’m not taking another hit.”
The silence stretched. Coach stared at me like I’d grown a second head.
“You’re cleared,” he said finally. “The doctors say you’re fine.”
“The doctors say I’m not going to die if I play. That’s not the same as fine.”
“Landry—”
“I’ll suit up. I’ll be on the sideline, supporting the team. But I’m not going back on that field.” I held his gaze. “My decision is made.”
Coach leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “You know what this means. The bowl game is your last chance to impress scouts. If you sit out?—”
“I’m not going pro.”
“You don’t know that. You’ve had a hell of a season. The numbers?—”
“Don’t matter.” I cut him off, surprising myself with how calm I felt. “I’ve known for a while that football wasn’t my future. No amount of telling me I could get drafted will make me change my mind. And without that being an issue, I don’t see a reason to put myself in danger when I’m still healing. We both know there’s no way I’d have been cleared this fast if it wasn’t for the bowl game on the line.”
Coach studied me for a long moment. I could see him cycling through arguments—appeals to duty, to legacy, to the teammates who were counting on me. I’d heard all of thembefore, had used them on myself during sleepless nights when I wondered if I was making the right choice.
But none of them changed the fundamental truth: I didn’t want this anymore. Maybe I never had.
“This about the McBride kid?” Coach asked quietly.
I thought about lying. About keeping Tanner out of it, protecting whatever privacy we had left. But I was tired of hiding. Tired of pretending parts of my life didn’t exist because they made other people uncomfortable.
“He’s part of it,” I said. “But not all of it. I want a different life than this one. And I’m not going to find it by getting my head rattled again.”
Coach sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t say I understand. But I respect it.” He met my eyes. “You’ve been a good player, Landry. Better than you give yourself credit for. Whatever you do next, I hope it works out.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
We shook hands, and I walked out of that office feeling lighter than I had in months.
Tanner was stillin the kitchen when I got home.
