Brock throws his hands up mockingly. “Fuck you!” he shouts as he stalks away, walking backward like he’s too cocky to turn his back on us. But then, just as he’s retreating, he trips, hitting the ground hard.
Avery smirks and skips past him a step or two, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oops. You should watch where you’re going,” she giggles, flashing a grin before jogging toward us.
She reaches Dylan, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You okay, babe?”
Dylan’s eyes flicker to me for a moment, then back to Avery. She whispers something, too quiet for me to hear, but I can seethe exhaustion in her face. “I’m good,” she says, but her voice is unconvincing. “Let’s just get cleaned up, and we’ll all talk at home.”
Whatever this is—it’s not good. I feel it in my gut.
The walk to the locker room is tense. Jacob and Ford exchange looks, and I know they’re thinking the same thing. Something’s off with Dylan, and now we’ve got an opposing player running his mouth, stirring up more shit. And Dylan—she’s shutting down. She’s not talking, not saying what’s going on, and that’s not like her. She usually opens up, especially with us.
I hang back as we head to the showers, my mind racing. Ford nudges me, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think that was about?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. But something’s been off with her the whole game. You saw it.”
Jacob joins us, pulling off his gear with a frown. “Yeah, I noticed too. She’s usually the one keeping us grounded out there, but today…” He trails off, sighing. “Something’s bothering her.”
Ford’s face hardens. “Think it has to do with Brock?”
“I’d bet on it,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Did you see how she froze up when he got in her face? I haven’t seen her like that before.”
We finish up quickly, the locker room emptying out as the rest of the team heads out. Dylan is the last to leave the showers, her expression guarded as she dries her hair. She catches my eye for a second, but looks away just as fast.
I can’t take it anymore. “Dylan.”
She pauses, turning toward me, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Yeah?”
I walk over, keeping my voice low, trying to soften the edge of frustration I feel building. “What’s going on?”
Her eyes flick between me, Ford, and Jacob, and for a moment, I see the conflict in them. She’s thinking about it, weighing whether she’s ready to talk. But then she shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Just a rough game.”
“Bullshit,” Ford snaps, stepping closer, his voice low and frustrated. “You’ve been off the whole game, Dylan. We’re not blind.”
Jacob’s tone is softer, more careful. “Something’s going on. We know it. You can tell us, Pickle.”
Dylan bites her lip, her face tight with emotion. She looks away for a second, like she’s trying to figure out what to say, what to share. The silence between us is suffocating, the weight of whatever she’s hiding pressing down on all of us.
“I said I’m fine,” she whispers, but the crack in her voice betrays her.
My heart clenches, my eyes locked on her, searching for any sign she’s about to open up, to let us in. But instead, she takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “This isn’t the time or place. Not here.”
Ford steps closer, his frustration giving way to concern. “Kitty, come on. We’re not trying to push, but we need to know what’s going on. You’re scaring us.”
She flinches, her eyes darting between us, and for a second, I think she’s going to break down right here, in front of the whole team. But then she pulls back, stiffening like she’s pulling herself together through sheer force of will. She takes a long breath, looking down at the ground.
“We’ll talk at home,” she says quietly, her voice shaking just a little. “Not here. Please.”
I exchange a look with Ford and Jacob, both of them wearing the same worried expression I feel twisting in my gut. We can’t push her right now, not like this. But damn it, whatever this is, it’s big, and it’s tearing her apart.
Jacob nods, his voice gentle as he squeezes her arm. “Okay. At home then.”
Dylan gives him a small, grateful smile before stepping away from us. I watch her walk toward the hall, her shoulders tense, like the weight of the world is pressing down on her. And maybe it is. But whatever it is, we’ll face it together.
Ford sighs, running a hand through his hair as he watches her go. “I don’t like this,” he mutters.
“No shit,” I say, my chest tightening with the frustration of it all. “Something’s seriously wrong. Did you see her face?”
Jacob crosses his arms, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, but pushing her isn’t going to help. We need to give her time. She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”
