Page 44 of The Last Five Yards

Her phone buzzes in her bag. She digs it out.

Two messages from Reese, her number never changed.

You alive?

I will bring coffee later if you are.

Maren stares at the texts until her vision blurs, then locks her phone without answering. Not yet. Not while she still feels raw and exposed.

She sets the phone beside the laptop. One dead. One very alive. Past and future, if she wants to get poetic about it.

Maybe she does.

The locker room door squeals open.

Maren jumps a little, spinning on the bench, her heart thudding too hard.

“Boy in the hall!” Coach Hensley calls automatically as he steps inside.

He looks smaller in here than he does on the deck. The harsh overhead light softens the lines on his face. He is in jeans instead of track pants, a dark polo instead of a team shirt. A cardboard box is tucked under one arm, filled with the remnants of his office.

“Morning, Clarke,” he says, voice gentle.

“Morning.” Her voice cracks. She clears it. “You are early.”

“Bad habit,” he says. “Also, the janitor threatened to lock my stuff in the lost and found if I did not finish packing.”

He walks farther in, glancing at the laptop on the bench.

“Ah,” he says softly. “The monsoon victim.”

“That is one word for it.”

He crouches down, inspecting it without touching it. “Did you try rice?”

Maren nods slowly.

“Rice can fix a lot. Not chlorine, though. Chlorine kills faster than toddlers with juice boxes.” He sighs. “You put this through a war.”

“It sat on the deck for five minutes,” she mutters.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “Near the blast zone.”

She snorts, surprised at herself.

He sits across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees now.

For a long moment, he does not speak.

Then: “You know, when I started coaching, I thought I could protect every kid who walked on my deck.”

She looks at him, throat tight.

“But I learned something,” he says. “You cannot coach if you are afraid to lose.”

She tries to breathe around the truth of that.

“I am not afraid to lose,” she says quietly.