I leaned back in my chair. “You think I’m overediting.”
“I think you’re writing what sounds smart instead of what feels honest.”
Well damn.
That felt uncomfortably personal.
Bennett handed the pages back. “You’re good when you stop trying to sound impressive.”
Okay wow.
Apparently everyone in my life was attacking me emotionally this week.
MASON
Coach kept me after practice.
Which is never fun.
The gym was mostly empty now except for managers cleaning up equipment.
Coach sat on the edge of the scorer’s table watching me towel sweat offmy face.
“You know what your problem is?”
“That’s a dangerous opening sentence.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Coach sighed. “You play like someone waiting to disappoint people.”
That one landed directly in my chest.
I looked away immediately.
Bad sign.
Coach noticed too.
“You’re talented enough to make the league,” he continued. “But talent doesn’t matter if your head falls apart every time pressure hits.”
“I’m handling it.”
“No,” Coach said bluntly. “You’re surviving it.”
Silence.
Then:
“What’s distracting you?”
Rowan’s face flashed through my head instantly.
Fantastic.
“Nothing.”
