“I don’t know,” I say quietly.
His eyes narrow slightly. “You do.”
I exhale slowly. “He said some shit.”
“Yeah,” Marco says. “I was there.”
My jaw tightens. “And I shouldn’t have hit him.”
Marco studies me. “But you did.”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re not the kind of guy who throws fists over nothing,” he says.
My throat closes, and Marco steps closer, lowering his voice. “Kirk said something specific, didn’t he? Something that hit a nerve?”
I don’t answer, and the silence stretches.
Marco watches me carefully, then glances toward the nightstand where my phone sits. “And now you’re a mess,” he says softly, “which tells me this isn’t just about basketball.”
My pulse spikes. I keep my expression blank with effort. “It’s about basketball.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “Uh-huh.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the way his eyes sharpen, in the way he takes a breath like he’s steadying himself. “Ollie… I’m not stupid.”
My heart pounds, slow and heavy.
Marco’s voice drops. “If something’s going on—if there’s a reason you reacted the way you did—if you’re carrying something you think you have to carry alone…” He holds my gaze. “I’ve got your back.”
The kindness in it is unbearable. It scrapes against something raw inside me.
I should tell him. I should say it. Just once. Out loud. To someone who isn’t Rafe. To someone who might actually understand without it becoming headlines.
Instead, the fear wins. My shoulders tense, and I shake my head. “There’s nothing.” The lie tastes like blood.
Marco’s face falls slightly. His disappointment is front and center. He nods once, slow. “Okay.”
But he doesn’t look convinced. He looks… hurt. He looks like someone who just offered a hand and got it slapped away.
Marco exhales sharply and shifts topics like he’s choosing not to push the knife deeper. “Someone leaked it.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
“The fight,” he says. “It’s already on social media. Not the whole thing. Not full context. But it’s out.”
Cold dread washes through me.
“I thought—” I start.
“Doesn’t matter what you thought,” Marco says. “Someone talked. Details aren’t even accurate, but that doesn’t stop it.”
My head pounds. “What are they saying?”
He grimaces. “That you swung first. That you’ve got anger issues. That Kirk said something, and you lost it. There’s no mention of who or what he was talking about.”
My stomach churns violently despite the relief that Rafe’s name hasn’t been mentioned.
