“Whether I’m still in this.”
Kevin lets out a short laugh. “Don’t say it like that.”
“I mean it like that.”
He studies me through the screen. “You’re a key player in this league. You’re still that fucking guy… if you want to be.”
I nod.
“Not trying to scare you away or anything, but fuck, what actually happened that night on the bench?” he asks.
The room feels smaller.
I open my mouth, then close it again. My pulse is loud in my ears. This is the part I’ve been avoiding. The part where staying quiet feels safer than telling the truth.
“Once I tell you, you won’t be able to forget it.”
He sets his phone up on something in front of him and crosses his arms. “Does it impact me?”
“Yes.”
My quick answer surprises him a bit. His brows pushing into his forehead. He looks around, contemplating.
“Yeah, I want to know.”
I take a deep breath and try to collect my thoughts. I launch into the long story. My injury. The rushed recovery. The way the trainer tried to get me to come back too soon with injections that weren’t approved. How they tried to get our star rookie to do the same thing with his injury in the middle of the game.
Kevin doesn’t interrupt. He listens intently from start to finish.
When I finish, he blows out a long breath. “Fuck. That isn’t what I thought you were going to say.” He pushes his hands through his hair. “Colson, you did what you had to do. Stepping in for someone who felt like they didn’t have a voice.”
“Maybe? I don’t know. Seemed kind of self-destructive.”
Kevin nods slowly. “I don’t think so.”
“I keep replaying it,” I admit. “Thinking if I’d spoken up louder, or at a different time, had a conversation with Coach—”
“Colson,” he cuts in. “You didn’t fail. You were failed.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
He leans closer to the camera. “You still love this game?”
I don’t answer right away. I think about the sound of sneakers on hardwood. The weight of a ball in my hands. The quiet right before a free throw. The way my body still sparks with energy when I’m coaching the kids, shooting around with them.
“I do,” I say.
“You have to keep playing,” he almost pleads.
I sit back in my chair, staring at the kitchen table.
“Tell the truth. You’ll find the right landing spot. Man, the league is better with Colson Burke in it.”
The silence that follows feels different. Lighter.
I nod once. “Okay.”
Kevin smiles. “Plus, are you going to give that asshole this kind of power? Nah. You have to come back.”
