Page 34 of Courtside

David shook his head, and a thick piece of hair flopped down into his eyes. He pushed it back with his hand, only for the hair to immediately fall back where it had been. He exhaled slowly, and then turned back to the guys.

“You’ve got to go out there and execute the plays. You’ve got to play together and trust the guys on the court with you. Take your time on your shots. Let’s go.”

The guys got up, heavy on their feet, but they dutifully put their hands together in the center of their huddled circle. Sage shifted away from them, hovering by the door.

It was Jenks who called out, “Let’s go, boys. Battle on three!”

“One, two, three. Battle!”

The guys filed out of the room, Coach Dixon following behind them.

David paused at the doorway, and Sage watched as his eyes closed for a moment and his chest expanded and contracted in a deep breath. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, a game board gripped tightly in one.

“They’re going to get it,” Sage said.

David unclenched his hands, reaching up to push his hair back from his face. It was futile, really, his hair too long and unkempt to stay back. He cleared his throat, turning to face her. “Sure.”

She cocked a brow at him. “You know this is just the beginning, right?”

His mouth curved up into a strained smile. “Right,” he said, but Sage could tell that he didn’t believe it. She could already see the defeat in the heaviness of his posture.

Fuck. He’d never survive a whole season thinking like that.

“They need you, you know,” she said, taking a half step closer to where David still hovered by the door.

He barked out a harsh laugh. “I’m not so sure about that.”

She could tell that she wasn’t getting through to him. Whatever it was that weighed on him felt greater than early season jitters. For whatever reason, the man who was supposed to model confidence and bring conviction to the team was floundering.

Sage brushed past him as she reached for the door handle. “Cut yourself come slack, Coach,” she said, unable to think of anything else to say.

When the door shut behind her, she heard a loud crack that sounded distinctly like a board slammed against a wall.

* * *

By the end, any hope that Southeastern could have turned the game around was completely shattered. They lost 78 - 30, and the locker room was somber as Coach Dixon and David delivered their post-game speeches.

As the coaches were leaving, Sage approached David, slipping another honey lozenge into his hand with as much subtlety as she could manage. She didn’t look at him, but she heard the low, hoarse “thank you” as he moved past her.

When the coaches cleared out of the locker room, Sage went back to the gymnasium, hanging around long enough to wrap up her duties and email the game stat reports off to the coaches. She and Sarah, one of the equipment interns, cleared away the cushioned bench chairs and got the bleachers rolled back into the walls. There was nothing left to do at that point but go home.

As Sage climbed into her car, she tossed her blazer and bag into the passenger seat, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It was dark out, and as she drove the familiar streets she was suddenly overwhelmed, like everything she’d shoved away throughout the game came bubbling up simultaneously, demanding her attention.

She’d been in a gym today — not just a court with a hoop, but a true gymnasium where teams competed and played — for the first time in almost five years. She’d been close enough to a game ball that she could’ve jumped up from her seat and stolen it, moving through either teams’ defense to score.

Now she felt emotion rise in her throat and her vision blurred. She blinked furiously against the burning in the corners of her eyes.

She would not cry.No. She wouldn’t give another second of her life to mourning, not after all of those years had passed. Not after she’d rebuilt herself to stand strong on her own.

She wouldn’t think about the man who’d once held her future in his hands.

But still, when she pulled into her parking spot and turned off the ignition, she pulled out her phone and opened Instagram, thumbs tapping on the screen, typing a name into the search bar that she hadn’t let herself type in years.

Evan White.

His profile immediately popped up.

There he was. His smile was just as smooth, his teeth as vibrantly white as she remembered. His golden brown skin still looked like it had been sculpted by an artist, and his tight curls were still shaved close to his head.

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