“I didn’t see any weakness there. I saw a person who’s been carrying too much for too long, without a place to set the stress down. That’s not failure, Oliver. That’s being human, and I’m glad you trusted me enough to help you through it. I’m grateful I could be there for you… I want to be there for you. Here…and off the field.”
His throat worked as he swallowed. He looked away before he could answer.
I picked up my tablet, backed toward the door, and stopped before leaving.
“If anything spikes tonight, you call Ivy. If you feel even slightly off, you call me. No waiting. No pushing through it.”
He nodded.
“And if you don’t answer tomorrow morning, I’ll come find you.”
That earned a breath of something like a laugh. “Yes, Doc.”
I left before I said something I couldn’t keep in the report.
28
OLIVER
Ididn’t go home right away.
I sat in my truck in the back lot with the engine off, my hoodie pulled over my head and the windows cracked enough to keep the heat from suffocating me. I didn’t check my phone. I didn’t move. I let my head fall back against the seat and stared at the ceiling.
Everything felt slow. Not weak, not broken—just slowed down like my body had decided to process everything at half-speed. I could still feel the residual stickiness from the monitor electrodes on my skin. Still hear the click of the wires being detached. Still hear her voice, steady and careful, telling me I’d done the right thing.
It didn’t feel like I had.
I ran both hands down my face and rested them on my chest, right over the spot that had gone tight earlier in the day. It didn’t hurt now. It felt hollow. My sister’s hurtful words, the ones she said when we fought, rang true.You’re going to kill yourself, and you don’t even care.
I hated that Sloane saw it. I hated that she had to kneel next to me in a goddamn closet and talk me down from shakingso hard I couldn’t speak. But I hated more how much worse it would’ve been if she hadn’t found me. If she hadn’t said my name the way she did. If she hadn’t stayed.
I didn’t want to go home. But I also couldn’t sit in the lot all night.
When I finally started the engine, it was muscle memory. Drive. Park. Keys in the bowl. Shoes off by the door. I dropped my gym bag on the floor and stood in the dark of my kitchen without turning on the light.
I hadn’t eaten. I wasn’t hungry.
I walked to the bathroom and stripped down, checking my chest in the mirror. I pressed my fingers to my sternum and took a breath. It didn’t catch. That was something. The cold tile under my feet grounded me a little. But it didn’t stop the knot from pulling tighter in my gut.
I turned the shower on and stepped under the water, not because I needed it but because I didn’t know what else to do. I let the water hit my shoulders and leaned against the wall, eyes shut.
Sloane had told them the truth but not all of it.
She didn’t sell me out. She didn’t label it panic. She didn’t write me off as weak or unstable or unfit to play. She gave me cover I didn’t deserve and probably wouldn’t ever earn. And I didn’t know how to handle that.
Because I couldn’t promise her it wouldn’t happen again.
I stayed in the shower too long. My skin went numb, and I still didn’t feel steady when I got out. I pulled on sweats, dried my hair, and sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hand for a full minute before unlocking it.
Nothing from anyone but a meme in the group chat and a thumbs-up from Jordan.
Sloane hadn’t texted. She’d already said what she needed to say.
But I wanted more. Not because I deserved it. But because she made me feel like I wasn’t losing everything all at once.
I opened a blank message, typed her name, and stared at the cursor blinking. I didn’t know what I was trying to say. Thanks didn’t feel right. I’m sorry felt worse. I erased the whole thing and threw my phone on the pillow.
I laid back and stared at the ceiling.
