Page 37 of Hometown Halftime

“Kinsey…” His voice softens, and that’s somehow worse. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk,” I snap, the fear surfacing too quickly. “I need to coach.”

“You can’t coach if you can’t stand,” he says, and the simple logic of it makes my stomach twist.

I try to take a step to prove him wrong. Another shock of pain slices through, buckling my knees again. I catch myself on the bench, breath hitching.

Riley’s hand is on my elbow before I can push him away.

“Okay,” he snaps. “That’s it. I’m calling Knox.”

“No.” The word flies out. “Absolutely not.”

“You can barely move.”

“I said no.”

He meets my eyes—calm, unwavering, unshaken by the claws I’m showing.

“Kinsey. You’re in pain, and we need to find out what’s wrong.”

The truth lands with a thud in my chest.

I look away, jaw locked. “I don’t want him thinking I can’t coach the team.”

“That’s not what he’ll think.” He hesitates, then adds softer, “That’s not what I think.”

My throat tightens. I feel too vulnerable right now. It makes me feel sick.

The girls round the far corner of the complex, still jogging, still out of earshot but not for long.

Riley keeps his voice low. “Let me help you. Please.”

Another attempt at movement fails, my body locking up so sharply I have to grab his forearm to keep upright. A tiny, humiliating sound slips out before I can swallow it. He goes still beside me.

“Kinsey,” he says, decisive now. “I’m calling him.”

This time, I don’t argue. He reaches into his pocket for his phone with his free hand while keeping the other held out for me to steady myself on. The contact shouldn't feel comforting. But it does.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, soft enough only for me to hear. “I’ve got you.”

Something hot presses behind my eyes—anger, fear, embarrassment. Maybe it’s all three tangled together.

“Don’t tell the girls,” I whisper.

“Of course not.”

As he calls Knox, the pain surges again, worse than the first two. I grip the equipment bin and breathe through it, fighting the panic clawing up my throat. Riley steps closer, hand still steadying me.

The team jogs back toward the field, flushed with effort. Riley steps in front of me, guarding me from the team’s view.

“Two more laps, ladies!” Riley shouts.

There are a few complaints, but Riley doesn’t waver, “I can make it three!”

The team goes quiet and starts jogging, leaving us. Riley turns back to me, his hand between my shoulders as he ends the call with Knox.

Riley lowers his phone and meets my eyes. “He’s on his way.”