“Who directed that movie about all the volleyball players?”
Kieran didn’t have the energy to muster a response.
“Spike Lee!”
Eric snickered at that one. He’d taken the spot on Kieran’s other side, leaning against him, hair still wet from his shower and falling into his eyes.
“It wasn’t your fault. Could have happened to any of us.”
Even Bowen had quit with the jokes when Eric finally spoke up.
“Doesn’t feel that way,” was Kieran’s only response. They’d stayed with him a while longer as the rest of their team had filed out of the locker room one-by-one. David Lu offered Kieran a pat on the back, squeezing his shoulder as Kieran continued to wait in silence.
For what? He didn’t know.
Drip.
He was alone now, his teammates—hisfriends—long gone. They’d probably gotten sick of Kieran’s moping, even if they’d hidden it with soft goodbyes and small smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.
Kieran couldn’t sit there all night. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him, even though they hadn’t played the full five sets. He felt drained, the will to get up and go home dripping out of him like water from that leaky faucet.
A door behind him opened. The sound of sneakers on linoleum.
“Still here?”
Coach’s voice was gentle, but firm. “Sorry,” said Kieran. He rose from the bench. “I’m heading out now.”
Crossing the room, Coach shook his head. “Sit back down.”
So Kieran did. He tried to hold his shoulders straight, tried to look as steady as possible for the reprimand he knew was coming. He’d talked to Coach before the game. Had explained his father’s situation. The other man knew Kieran had been distracted.
Coach knew it was all Kieran’s fault.
“Mills is going to be fine,” he said. Then, with a deep sigh, he crouched down, letting his back slide along the wall until he was seated on the floor in front of Kieran. Knees bent, arms resting on their tops. It was so casual, something Kieran didn’t often see from their coach.
“It’s just a sprain,” he continued. Moisture pricked the back of Kieran’s eyes at the news. Atticus would be okay. He was hurt, but it was something he would recover from.
“I’m sorry.” Kieran felt like a broken record, stuck on the same apology, the words playing again and again in his head until he was forced to say them once more.
Coach shook his head, sucking in a deep breath. “I know you’ll just keep beating yourself up about it. But Carpenter’s right, what happened wasn’t your fault.”
Ah. So the stooges had sent Coach as a last ditch effort. A flicker of warmth lit in Kieran’s chest, but it was hard to feel past the torrential downpour of guilt still battering him.
“I’ve seen the same exact accident happen to players with a lot less weighing on them than what you’ve got tonight. And I’m the one who put you in the game, who asked you to play. I knew what I was doing, and I trusted you.” A pause that filled Kieran with more guilt. Maybe he shouldn’t have been trusted. Maybe his worries over not being the right person to lead this team were valid.
“I still trust you, McCullough. You’re a damn good player, and these guys respect you. Kelly and Carpenter are nearly unmanageable, but they behave around you. And Lu, I figured he’d never hold any sort of esteem for some young hotshot coming in here and earning himself the title of captain. He’s still a hardass, but he’s a hardass who knows you earned your place.”
A lump was forming in Kieran’s throat, his nose going tingly as he struggled to meet Coach’s stare.
“And Mills,” Coach continued, huffing out a small laugh. “Watching you and Mills on the court together is like listening to a two part harmony. Part of me thinks he’ll expedite healing that ankle by sheer force of will just to get back out there. He’ll never let you keep playing without him.”
Kieran swallowed thickly. “And what if I don’t keep playing?”
The question was a heavy blanket over the room, weighted and smothering. Kieran couldn’t find a way out from under it.
“Well.” Coach twirled the wedding ring on his left hand, spinning it round and round while a smile creased the corners of his eyes. “Atticus sure will have something to say about that. It’ll be loud, and he’ll say it with the subtlety of a bulldozer, especially if you’re considering quitting over something as small as a sprained ankle.”
“That’s not the only reason.” The words were out before Kieran could think better of them. Coach nodded, still twirling his ring, a faint tan line from years of wearing it showing as it moved. The action made Kieran think of Sammie (he would ignore the fact that awedding ringhad brought her face to his mind). He’d been the reason her brother was hurt, even if everyone else was denying it. Would she want to continue working with him? Or would she be as disappointed in him as he was with himself?
