We took ten.
I calleda team meeting in the hotel conference room at ten AM, and the confusion was immediate.
Guys filtered in slowly, most of them still looking half-asleep, coffee in hand and expressions wary. They'd learned over the past few days that when I called meetings, it usually meant someone was about to get their ass handed to them.
Rook was the first to arrive, because of course he was. Captain responsibility. He took one look at my face and his eyebrows went up slightly.
“Coach.”
“Rook.”
“Everything okay?”
“We'll see.” I nodded toward the chairs. “Have a seat.”
By the time everyone had arrived and settled, the tension in the room was thick enough to cut. Hartley sat near the back, carefully neutral expression in place, but I caught the flicker of curiosity in his eyes when they met mine.
I stood at the front of the room and waited until I had everyone's attention.
“I'm giving you all the day off,” I said without preamble.
Dead silence. Then Callahan's voice: “Wait, what?”
“Explore Seattle. Get coffee. See the sights. Do whatever you want, as long as you're not dead or arrested by the time we fly out tomorrow morning.” I paused. “Consider it an apology for the past few days.”
More silence. This one confused.
“I've been a dick,” I continued, and several guys exchanged glances. “Riding everyone hard for no good reason. Making practice miserable. Treating you all like you're failing when you're not.” I met Rook's eyes, then moved around the room. “Tough love has its place. But what I've been doing isn't tough love. And you didn't deserve it.”
Callahan looked like he might actually faint. “Did Coach just... apologize?”
“Don't make me regret it, Callahan.”
“No, sir. Not making you regret it, sir.”
Rook's mouth twitched. Then he nodded once, and I saw the respect there. The acknowledgment. “Appreciate that, Coach.”
“Don't get used to it.” I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair. “Enjoy your day. Bus leaves for the airport at eight AM tomorrow. Don't be late.”
I walked out before anyone could ask questions, and I felt the room erupt into noise behind me.
I foundJace twenty minutes later in the hotel lobby, standing near the windows and staring out at the Seattle skyline like he was trying to memorize it.
“Figured you'd be halfway to Pike Place by now,” I said, coming to stand next to him.
He glanced over, and something flickered across his face. Relief, maybe. “Was thinking about it. You?”
“Same.”
“Want company?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”
Seattle was one of those cities that was easy to get lost in—coffee shops on every corner, narrow streets that wound through hills, the smell of salt water and rain even when it wasn't raining. We grabbed coffee first from a place that looked like it had been there since the seventies.
It felt weirdly normal. Like we were just two people exploring a city, not a coach and his player trying to navigate something that could destroy them both.
“You ever been to Seattle before?” Jace asked as we walked past a busker playing guitar on a corner.
