101

Ryan

In A Good Place

Someone cleared their throat. "Hey, Ryan?"

My movements were slow, like I'd been hit by a truck instead of standing on the sidelines during practice. Grass crunched under my shoes. I shifted back. "What?"

King stood a few feet away, quiet. Usually, it was a comfortable routine with the two of us. But the stretched silence was anything but comfortable.

He hesitated. "Are you…in a good place?"

"I'm great."

"Good. Good."

"I'm waiting for them to start drills."

"Understood, but…." A long pause followed, and he hesitated. "We started those ten minutes ago."

"Ah."

"Are you sure you're in a good place?"

"Yeah."

He cleared his throat. "I think you should go home, captain."

"Okay."

I didn't want to go back to my dorm. What was I supposed to do there? Little pieces of Kassie were thrown around. Her ballpoint pen mug sat in my cupboard, her art supplies were heaped together in the corner of my living room, and she'd left sticky note drawings of me on the fridge. I couldn't get rid of any of it. I couldn't touch them.

"It'll be better tomorrow," he tried.

I didn't say anything.

"I'm—uh—I'm sorry, Ryan. I can talk to the coaches. If you need some days…to clear your head, that's fine by us."

He waited for me to say something.

"Or I'll…." King hesitated. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Heading back home to get some sleep?"

"Yeah."

The lie was so easy, it didn't even feel like one. With a turn to the right, my sneakers crunched against the grass again and I made a slow path back to my dorm.