Chapter 6 Watch Your Tone

The locker room empties fast after Cole’s announcement. Girls grab their bags, still buzzing about Sarah’s promotion, about how Becky’s quiet but steady hands will balance her out. Jenna squeezes my shoulder on her way past, murmuring something about “next season” and “you’re still the heart of this team.” I nod, force a half-smile, but the words slide right off me. My ears are still ringing with his voice saying Sarah’s name and stripping me off my hard work.

I stay behind.

The showers run for a while, then shut off one by one, as voices fade down the hallway. Eventually it’s just me sitting on the bench, staring at the scuffed tile floor.

I stand, grab my bag, and walk out of the locker room without changing.

Cole’s temporary office is at the far end with the door ajar, light spilling into the corridor.

I don’t even bother to knock as I push inside.

He’s at the desk, hunched over some paperwork. The room smells like fresh coffee and the faint leather of his jacket slung over the chair. He doesn’t turn right away, but his shoulders tense slightly the second the door clicks shut behind me.

“Practice is over, Riley.” he says without looking up.

“I know.” I drop my bag by the door, then cross my arms. “I’m quitting the team.”

His pen pauses over the papers for a brief moment, before he continues writing. “If that’s what you think is best.”

The words land like a slap. I stare at him, waiting for the follow-up, the argument, the anything.... but nothing comes.

“That’s it?” I ask. “That’s all you have to say?”

He finally raises his head and looks up at me. “You’re an adult. I’m sure you can make your own choices.”

I laugh. “You’re punishing me.”

He leans back, linking his fingers over his stomach. “For what?”

“Don’t fucking play dumb with me.”

“Watch your language.” His gaze is steady on mine. “Besides, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.”

His jaw tightens, just a fraction. He sets the clipboard down carefully, like he has all the time in the world.

He leans back on his chair and stairs me down. “If there's something you want to say to me, say it now. Or else, I’m going to have to ask you to leave my office.”

The words send a slow wave of anger through my bones.

“You’re really going to be an asshole about this?”

Anger flashes through his eyes for a brief moment, but other than that, his expression remains the same.

“I have already told you I have no idea–“

“Really?” I cut him off, taking a step closer. “So the night I gave you my virginity in your bed while your daughter slept down the hall... that didn’t happen? You didn’t kiss me like you were starving, didn’t fuck me like you’d been waiting years for it, then kick me out the moment your balls were empty?”

He clenches his jaw slightly, but stays silent.

“Really? Still have nothing to say?” I keep going, my voice low and steady. “So this what you do, huh? You fuck a girl, then act like nothing happened? Pretend she doesn’t exist? Because if that’s your move, congratulations. It worked. For three years I stayed away. I changed plans, skipped hangouts, lied to Lena, all so I wouldn’t have to see your face. And now you show up as my coach and you’re stripping me of captain because… what? Because looking at me reminds you that you wanted me once?”

He finally stands. Slowly. The chair rolls back with a soft scrape.

“I'm going to need you to watch your mouth, Riley Bennett,” he says quietly.

“Or what?” I take a single step closer and tilt my head. “You’ll make me run laps? Extra conditioning? Newsflash, Coach. I’m off the team.”

He rounds the desk, taking slow but measured steps. The space between us shrinks until he’s standing right in front of me, close enough that I have to tip my chin up to hold his gaze.

“There are more ways to punish someone than making them run,” he says.

The words hang there, heavy with something darker than anger. My heartrate kicks up.

I raise my body onto the tip of my toes, lean in close to his ear, and whisper. “I’d like to see you try.”

Thick silence stretches between us. His eyes drop to my mouth for one heartbeat, then lift again.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

“Stop telling me what–“

Before I can blink, his fingers wrap around my throat and pull me forward until our faces are millimetres apart. His thumb rests along my jawline, pressing lightly against my pulse.

And everything goes very, very, still.