I tell myself the same thing every time: If I’m perfect on the court, I can earn the right to be messy later.
It’s a lie I keep buying because it feels like control.
There is no later.
I’m in the training facility after practice, towel around my neck, sweat cooling on my skin, when Marco drops down beside me on the bench with a grunt. He’s been doing this more lately—showing up in my orbit like he’s making sure I don’t drift too far out.
“You good?” he asks, casual.
I take a sip of water. “Yeah.”
Marco’s eyes flick over my face. He knows my tells now. The too-fast answer. The way my shoulders stay rigid even when I sit.
He nudges my knee with his. “No bullshit.”
I exhale slowly through my nose. “I’m fine.”
Marco huffs a laugh. “Man, I swear ‘fine’ is your favorite lie.”
I don’t respond.
He leans forward, forearms on his thighs. “You heard from him?” he asks, voice lower.
There’s no need to say Rafe’s name. There hasn’t been for a while.
“Yes,” I say. “He’s… good.”
Marco gives me a sideways look. “You’re saying ‘good’ like you’re reading it off a PR sheet.”
“He’s on tour,” I say, like that explains everything. I rub my thumb over the edge of my bottle. “He’s busy.”
“And you’re not?” Marco’s tone is pointed. “You’re playing your ass off, Ollie. Coach has been in a good mood for, like, three straight days. Do you know how rare that is?”
A weak smile tugs at my mouth. “Miracle season.”
Marco waits. “So?”
“So, what?”
“So, how are you really doing?” he says, slower. “Not your stats. Not your minutes. You.”
A lump forms in my throat. It shouldn’t. It’s a simple question. But the answer is too big for a locker room bench. I shrug. “Same.”
Marco studies me. “You talk to him?”
“We try.”
“That bad?”
I don’t answer fast enough.
Marco’s sigh is quiet. “Okay,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me everything. But you don’t get to pretend you’re not hurting. I’m not asking to fix it. I’m just… here.”
Something shifts in my chest, sharp and warm and painful. I nod once. “Thanks,” I manage.
Marco slaps my shoulder, like he can’t stand the softness too long. “Yeah. Now go ice whatever you’re destroying inside your body, psycho. We need you.”
I snort, but the sound is thin.
