Page 50 of Lose You Twice

Film gives me something to focus on that isn’t Wren. Something with problems I can solve, and questions I can answer. Rewind. Pause. Look again. The mistake is either there or it isn’t. Bad gap. Lazy backcheck. Missed rotation. Late read. The ice tells the truth if you know how to watch it.

We start with defensive-zone coverage from last weekend, and I force my attention onto the screen. For a few minutes, it works. Grayson points out a bad angle before Coach does because Grayson has always been quietly annoying. Asher gets praise for tracking through traffic.

Then my phone buzzes in my bag.

Not loud. Not enough for anyone else to hear, but I feel it anyway.

My hand moves toward the zipper before I stop it.

Grayson notices.

I keep my eyes on the screen.

Coach rewinds a clip where Weston drifts high and leaves too much space underneath him. Their winger slips through, takes the pass, and gets a shot off before our defense can collapse.

“Cooper,” Coach says.

Weston sits up. “In my defense, I had a vision.”

Coach looks at him, completely unimpressed. “Was the vision to leave the middle open?”

“Not intentionally.”

Coach stares at him.

Weston clears his throat. “Copy. No more visions.”

The room laughs.

Coach moves on to the breakout. I take notes because notes have structure, and structure gives my hands something useful to do. Coleson sits near the back, arms crossed, saying nothing. He is present in the most technical sense. Too separate from the room. Too comfortable being separate.

I make a note to talk to him tomorrow.

Film ends, and I start to gather my stuff.

The second Coach dismisses us, Weston springs up like sitting for forty-five minutes required extra work. “Can we go to Oakley’s?”

“No,” I say, slipping my backpack over my shoulders.

He turns to Grayson. “Why does he hate joy?”

“He doesn’t hate joy,” Grayson says. “He schedules it quarterly.”

Weston waggles his brows. “Sexy.”

I shoulder my bag. “Both of you are exhausting.”

Weston grins. “That’s team culture.”

Asher walks past us. “I think the word you were looking for is torture.”

The guys split off toward the parking lot, but I head toward the locker room because I left tomorrow’s practice plan in my stall.

That is absolutely the reason.

It’s definitely not because I want two minutes alone to check my phone where no one can watch my face.

That plan is thwarted when Grayson follows me.