Ch. 5

Matteo

If there was one thing I had learned over the years watching Rowan play on television, it was that the more I looked at him, the harder it became to think straight.

Back then, he had never called me Coach. He always called me Matteo. Now, hearing that single word from him felt strange.

"What do you want?" I asked.

He folded his arms across his chest. "You suspended me and I don't approve of it."

"Yes."

I walked around my desk and placed both hands on it. "You're the captain, Ro…" I caught myself. "…Rowan. Start acting like one instead of getting into fights with your teammates."

"Well. You saw that he immaturely started it."

"And you immaturely continued."

He stared at me for some second, nodding before turning toward the door. Without another word, he stepped out and shut it behind him.

The office fell silent. I rubbed my temple before dropping into the chair.

Leith had warned me this wouldn't be easy. His son had really changed. He also told me about how the therapist had diagnosed him with burnout and depression months ago. Therapy wasn't going well either. According to Leith, Rowan attended because he was forced to, not because he wanted help.

That explained the short temper.

I reached for the player files lying on my desk and pulled Rowan's out from the pile. Captain. Shooting guard. Twenty-three.

The same kid who used to grin every time he made a three pointer during practice. I shut the file before my thoughts wandered any further.

A knock came at the door before it opened without waiting for my answer. It was the player I had found out his name was Ralph. "Coach." He hovered near the doorway like he wasn't sure he was welcome. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Come in."

He shut the door behind him and stood there, hands shoved in his pockets. "It's about Rowan."

Of course it was. Yesterday I saw him pretty close around Rowan and I don’t know why it awoke something in me. "I know what you're going to say," I said. "That the other member started it."

"No." Ralph shook his head. "I mean, yeah, Wesley did started it. But that's not it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just wanted to plead for Rowan. He’s usually not like that. Even if he was, he was not always this bad."

I leaned back in my chair, waiting.

"He's been off for weeks," Ralph continued. "Snapping at people. Anytime I go to his room, he pretends to be fine. Sometimes he just stares at nothing during breaks." He hesitated. "I don't know if it's my place to say all this. But you're new, and I figured someone should tell you before you judge him off one fight."

I studied him for a moment. He surely knew a lot about Rowan and I didn’t like any bit of it. "Why are you telling me this?" I tried not to be rude.

"Because he doesn't have anyone else who would bother telling you." Ralph's jaw tightened slightly. "Everyone just sees the captain. Nobody sees him and no one praises him for how well he leads the team."

The words settled somewhere uncomfortable in my chest. "Noted," I said, keeping my voice even. "Thank you, Ralph."

He nodded and let himself out.

I sat there a long while after the door clicked shut, staring at nothing in particular. Two years of leaving Rowan and I still couldn't stop myself from caring.

I pushed the thought down and got up, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair. If I stayed in this office any longer, I was going to think myself into a hole I had no business climbing back into.

The gym had mostly cleared out by the time I made it back to the court. A few players lingered near the equipment room, packing up gear. The other player who fought was among them, an ice pack pressed to his jaw.

He caught my eye and straightened. "Coach."

"Don’t bother."

I knew he wanted to apologize but I wasn’t really interested in an apology. I passed around the gym, checking that the lights would be shut off. It was an old habit and Jefferson used to tease me about it back when I first started, said I fussed over the building like it was my own kid.

Maybe I did. It was easier than fussing over people.

By the time I stepped outside, the sky had changed its colour. The players' residence sat a short walk from the gym, it was close enough so I didn't bother driving.

I almost didn't notice Rowan as he was slouched against the low wall bordering the parking lot, a bottle dangling loose from his fingers, more empty than full.

I stopped walking.

He hadn't seen me yet. His head was tipped back, his eyes closed and throat working around.

I kept walking but my feet were already carrying me toward him. "Rowan."

His eyes cracked open, unfocused for a second before they found me. A slow, lazy smile spread across his face. "Coach." He drew the word out in a mocking tone. "Didn't know you made house calls."

"How much have you had?"

"Not enough." He lifted the bottle in a mock toast before realizing it was empty. He frowned at it like it had personally betrayed him.

I crouched in front of him, close enough to smell the liquor on his breath. "Get up. I'll walk you inside."

"I don't need a babysitter." But he didn't fight me when I got an arm under his shoulder, hauling him upright. His weight sagged into my side immediately, like his legs had already given up the argument even if his mouth hadn't.

"Could've fooled me," I muttered.

He laughed, low and rough, his head tipping against my shoulder for half a second before he caught himself and straightened. "You smell the same." His voice had dropped, quieter now, none of the mockery left in it. "Still smell like that stupid cedar shit you used to wear."

My chest tightened, but I didn’t answer. I could still remember the day he commented on my scent. He said it always caught his attention. From then on, I decided to always wear the same brand. Unfortunately, I guess his attention was never really for me.

We made it across the lot in silence, his steps uneven enough that I kept a hand braced against his back the entire way. Every few feet he'd list to one side and I'd correct it, and neither of us said anything about it.

At the entrance to the residence, he stopped, blinking up at the building like he'd forgotten which door was his.

"Second floor," I reminded him. I had seen it in his file.

"I know where I live, Matt." The nickname slipped out so easily it barely registered, but it landed somewhere low in my stomach anyway.

I got him up the stairs, one hand braced on the railing behind him in case his knees decided to quit. He fumbled with his key for a full minute before I finally took it from him and let us both in.

His apartment smelled like stale cologne and something floral I didn't want to think too hard about. I steered him toward the couch, and he dropped onto it like his strings had been cut, one arm flopping over his eyes.

"You should drink some water," I said.

"You should mind your business."

I went to the kitchen anyway, found a glass in the second cabinet I tried, and filled it at the sink. When I came back, he had pulled his arm off his face and was watching me, his eyes were glassy but sharper than they had been outside.

"Why do you care," he said but not like in a question. More like an accusation.

I set the glass on the table beside him. "Because your father is paying me to."

Something flickered across his face, there and gone. He pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Right." His voice had gone flat. "Forgot that's the only reason you're here."

I ignored him. I wasn’t about to argue with a drunk kid because since I knew him, this was how he always was. "Drink the water," I said instead. "And sleep it off. Practice is at seven tomorrow, you better get there on time."

He watched me with an intensity that made my skin prickle as I walked towards the door. "You used to stay," he said quietly. "After. You used to stay until I fell asleep."

My hand found the doorknob before I let myself answer that. "That was a long time ago, Rowan and I think the past is better unsaid."

"Ro," he corrected, so soft I almost missed it. "You used to call me Ro. Call me Ro."

If I turned around, I didn't trust what my face would give away or how I was going to kiss him.

"Lock the door behind me," I said, and let myself out.