Page 76 of Holding On

"He doesn't really want to talk to anyone right now." I don't know if that's true. I know Ethan talks to his friends but I didn't know he hadn't talked to his coach.

"Do you know if he's left the house recently?"

"He went to the doctor but other than that, no. He doesn't like going out."

"Because he doesn't want people seeing him injured." The coach crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. "I understand where he's coming from. He has people watching him, wondering if he'll be able to play ball again. I know the pressure he's under. But he's been hiding here for weeks and people are starting to question his mental health. He needs to get out of this house. He needs to show people he's on the road to recovery." He pauses. "Unless he's not. Do you know how he's doing? Physically or...otherwise?"

Seriously, where the hell is Ethan? I glance behind me but he's not there. You'd think he would've heard the doorbell ring. It's not that big of a house. I look back at the coach. "Do you think maybe you could come back later? I'm not sure where Ethan went and—"

"Coach," Ethan says. I turn back and see Ethan coming toward us. "What are you doing here?"

Ethan sounds pissed, but is he mad at the coach for showing up here or at me for letting him in?

"We need to talk." Coach Maverick walks up to Ethan. "Let's sit down."

"I'm not sitting down and we're not talking. I told you, I'm not ready." Ethan takes a breath, trying to calm down. He doesn't want to yell at his coach. He's told me before how much he likes and respects the man, probably more than he does his own father.

"I just want to discuss some things."

"There's nothing to discuss. I can't play. My leg won't be ready."

"But your father said—"

"My father doesn't know shit. He's just telling you what you want to hear. You know what he's like so why would you listen to him? You know I can't heal that fast."

"Maybe so, but I still want you to attend practice in a couple weeks. The guys are counting on you being there."

"I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and watch them play. What's the point?"

"You're their leader. They need you there."

"I'm not their fuckin' leader." Ethan shakes his head. "Half those guys never listened to me before so they sure as hell aren't going to now that I can't play."

The coach narrows his eyes at Ethan. "Stop being so goddamn stubborn. You have a talent, son. A talent not many people have. Even with your injury, I've still got scouts calling me about you. You can still play pro. That dream hasn't died so don't give up on it. All athletes get injured and the scouts understand that. The sports media understands it too. But what you're doing now, hiding out here and never leaving the house, looks bad. People are starting to talk, wondering if you're struggling mentally."

"So what do you expect me to do? Go hang around town and put on a fake smile?"

"If you want to save your reputation, then yes. Take your girlfriend out. Go to dinner. See a movie. Do things people your age do. At least that way, people will stop questioning your mental health."

"So this is all about what other people want. How I look to the outside." He huffs. "Did my dad put you up to this?"

"Ethan." I hold his arm. "Coach Maverick is right. You need to get out of the house."

He rips his arm away. "Stay out of this."

"Ethan." The coach softens his voice. "I know you're struggling to deal with the accident but this isn't helping. You need to talk to someone. Let them help you move on."

"Move on?" He lets out a harsh laugh. "My friends are dead. I think it'll take a while before I can move on. And talking to a fucking counselor isn't going to help."

"Just give it some thought. In the meantime you need to get out of this house. Not for anyone else but yourself." He glances at me. "And I'm sure your girlfriend would like to go out once in a while."

"Are we done?" Ethan asks, sounding annoyed.

"I want you at practice. You're still part of the team and you're expected to be there."

Ethan just stares at the floor.

Coach pats him on the shoulder. "Take care. See you in a few weeks." He smiles at me. "Nice to meet you, Becca."

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