The headset goes silent. But the damage is done.
I turn slowly, barely able to breathe, barely able to hear anything past the rush in my ears. Luke’s gone—en route to the hospital—and I’m standing in the middle of the sideline with the whole damn stadium watching me come apart.
And then I hear it again. Coach Harris’s voice in my ear, low and grim.
“Meet me in the office.”
My stomach drops.
I take off the headset with numb fingers. Walk across the turf like my body’s not mine anymore. Every step feels heavier. Every player who sees me knows something’s wrong. I don’t meet their eyes.
When I reach the building, the door to the coach’s office is already open.
Harris is inside. So is the Athletic Director.
And I know.
I knew the moment I ran to him on that field. When I called himLuke. When I dropped to my knees like a man who had something to lose.
I shut the door behind me. No one speaks right away. Harris looks uncomfortable, but not surprised. The AD just stares at me, face blank and closed.
Finally, Harris sighs. “I told you from the start this job came with expectations.”
“I know.”
“You crossed a line.”
I don’t answer.
Because what could I possibly say?
It doesn’t matter that I love him. That I never meant for it to happen. That we tried to keep it separate. That we were careful—until I wasn’t. Until the second he didn’t get up from that field.
TheAD speaks next. Cold and formal.
“We have a zero-tolerance policy for improper relationships between coaching staff and student-athletes.”
My spine stiffens. “He’s of age. This wasn’t coercive.”
“I didn’t say it was,” she replies. “But the optics are clear. The moment you made that scene on the field, it stopped being speculation. It became confirmation.”
I try to breathe through the burn in my lungs.
“There are no second chances,” she adds. “You’re dismissed, effective immediately. Clean out your office. Security will walk you out.”
A dull ringing echoes in my ears. I think of Luke. Of how he looked up at me, dazed and bruised, trying to smile even as they strapped him down. Of how it felt to hearthat soundagain.
I nod once.
“Understood.”
Harris looks away, jaw tight. There’s a flicker of sympathy in his eyes, but he doesn’t speak.
I step out of the office. The hallway spins a little around me, but I make it to the locker room. Open the drawer where I keep my clipboard, the playbook, the keys.
I leave the keys.
I take nothing but the clipboard.
