A long silence stretched between us. Somewhere behind him, a whistle shrieked, and pads collided. Life went on.
Coach stepped closer, lowering his voice, his eyes glittering with anger. “You’re pushing your luck.”
Dante didn’t move. “We’re doing our jobs.”
Coach looked at Noah. “You too?”
Noah swallowed, then lifted his chin. “Yes, Coach. Ferguson was late every day last week by at least twenty minutes each time. You gave him a protein bar and told him to focus more. I was on time today — early, actually. Half my training was already done, so was Dante’s, before any of these guys behind you turned up. I don’t know why you’re treating us differently. I don’t know what message that sends to the rest of the team either.”
Something shifted in Coach’s expression — not surprise, exactly. Annoyance. Like he’d expected Noah to fold.
Coach straightened, his authority snapping back into place. “Fine. You want to play it this way?”
He pointed toward the field.
“Not one of you is stepping foot on my field today.”
Dante didn’t react. Neither did Noah.
“We’ll stay on the sideline,” I said smoothly.
Coach’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s what we’re doing,” Dante replied sharply, his look at Coach glacial.
For a moment, I thought Coach might explode. Instead, he gave a sharp nod and turned away.
“Sideline, all of you. You move when I say you move,” he snapped. “Don’t think I won’t remember this.”
“We’re counting on it,” Dante said quietly.
Coach stalked off, already barking orders, already pretending this hadn’t rattled him.
Noah let out a slow breath beside me. “Well,” he muttered, “that went about as badly as it could’ve.”
I shook my head. “Nah.” Both of them looked at me. “He’s not telling anyone else; the other coaches don’t know what’s going on. Keep your game-day faces on, don’t give them an inch.”
Dante’s mouth twitched. “You’re not wrong.”
We took our seats on the sideline, helmets resting at our feet, eyes forward. Players noticed. They always did. No one said anything — but the looks lingered.
I stared out at the field, chest tight.
This was the line. Right here. Silent and defiant.
Not walking out, not yelling, and not quitting.
Three players on the sideline, helmets at their feet, watching a practice they weren’t allowed to be a part of. Anyone in the stadium who looked over would see exactly what they were supposed to see — players who showed up anyway.
And whatever this turned into — whatever it cost — I knew one thing for sure.
I wasn’t backing down now.
Chapter 37
Hadley
“What’s going on with them?” I asked as soon as the door was closed.