Chapter 47
forty-seven
Colson
Sadie cheats. Not in a malicious way. Not even in a way she tries to hide. She just… cheats.
I know it the second she grins and drops her shoulder like she’s about to drive left, then spins right instead, light on her feet, ponytail swinging. The ball kisses the backboard and drops through the net.
She throws her hands up. “Game point.”
“You traveled,” I tell her.
“I absolutely did not.”
“Pretty sure you traveled,” I insist, grabbing the ball and dribbling it back to her.
She steps in front of me, wrapping her arms around my neck and kisses me. Her favorite distraction. Fuck, it’s mine, too.
“Fine, fine. You didn’t travel. You win.” I laugh at how easy I fold for her.
Morning light slants through the high windows, striping the court.
We’re the only ones here; for a second, it almost feels like a secret.
Camp starts in forty five minutes but we’ve been coming in early for the last few weeks.
Sadie says she has admin things to work on, but mostly I think she likes to watch me work out.
Which isn’t an issue on my side, not one bit.
My agent has let me know there are a handful of teams who have expressed interest in offering me a roster spot this coming up season.
Even though everyone told me there would be potential offers, this kind of progress feels good.
So, I’m doing my best to stay in shape and keep working on mobility and confidence when it comes to my shoulder.
I work on a few more drills, then let my body sort of cool down before I go into Coach Colson mode. Before I know it, the front doors open and kids practically skip in.
It’s always chaotic with sneakers squeaking, voices overlapping, and parents calling out to their kid for the thing they forgot, but I’ve grown to really like this energy. Appreciate it. It always seems to fill my cup a bit.
Sadie claps her hands once, loud and sharp. “Shoes tied, water bottles in your cubby, and if I see anyone wearing flip flops in one minute, you’re on clean up duty!”
I step back, give her space to do her thing. Watching Sadie work with the kids is one of my favorite things. Now that I’m helping more regularly, I let Sadie lead the way and I do my best supporting her.
I’m setting up cones when I feel it. That shift. The way the air tightens before something goes wrong.
I glance up and see Sadie freeze near the scorer’s table. A woman stands in front of her—mid-thirties maybe, hair pulled back tight, arms crossed like she’s bracing for impact. I know she’s Emma’s mom. I look and see Emma with her backpack on, waiting by the cubbies.
Sadie’s smile is still there, but it’s thinner now.
I don’t hear what the woman says, but I see Sadie glance toward me. Just once. A flicker of something in her eyes I don’t like. Then she nods toward the far end of the court.
I jog over, heart thumping with nervousness, “Everything okay?”
The woman’s gaze slides to me, sharp and assessing. Not curious but definitely concerned.
“I was hoping to speak with Sadie privately,” she says. I can tell she’s trying to soften her tone but it barely works.
Sadie jumps in fast. “But if you’re asking me about Colson, I’d like to give him a chance to respond.”
Asking about me?
The woman’s face pinches, like she’s uncomfortable with this already, before she exhales. “I didn’t know who he was at first,” she says carefully. “I mean—I recognized him, but not like that.”
My stomach tightens.
Without saying anything, she holds out her phone. On it is a picture of me standing over Nick, after he fell over the other night. Between the headline and the caption, it looks like I hit him.
Fuck.
Sadie looks at and her face pales. She stands up tall, tucking her hair behind her ears and says, “This is a misunderstanding. There was no fight or anything like that—”
She nods, but it’s hesitant. “I understand that things like this don’t always show everything. But it’s getting around and I wanted to bring it to your attention.”
Sadie’s voice is calm but firm. “Colson didn’t touch him. He didn’t push him. He was trying to de-escalate the situation.”
She’s trying to stand up for me, and even though she’s telling the truth, I’m not sure that’s the move. I look up and watch as the kids get ready to start their warm-ups in a few minutes. How many other parents saw this? All of them?
“I’ll be the first to say, this doesn’t look good. But Sadie’s right. I didn’t put my hands on anyone. He literally tripped—”
The seconds the words come out, I know it sounds like a piss-poor excuse.
“My husband told me they dismissed you from your NBA team. Is that true?”
My stomach drops; it’s so jarring that it’s almost hard for me to stand. It only takes a second for me to realize how bad this will fucking look to anyone who sees this. Like it’s normal. Like I’m out of control.
The woman shifts her weight. “I just think we need to talk about this as a family before Emma continues.”
She’s kinder than I expect. I can’t say a single thing because I know how awful this looks. Me. How awful I look.
Sadie tries to jump in; I can feel the wave of her trying to convince the woman to change her mind. I put up a hand and say, “It’s okay. Whatever you think is best.”
Emma offers us a sad wave as her mom holds her hand, taking her back out to the car, and it stings.
For a second, the gym noise swells back in but it feels like I’m underwater. I don’t know what to do.
Sadie puts a hand on my shoulder, “Let’s get through this practice and then we’ll figure it out, okay?”
I nod, trying to push down the disappointment and hurt. Right now, it feels like I let Sadie down. But leaving right now would be worse than staying and helping the kids have the experience they deserve.
I commit, mentally, to stay for this practice. Pretend I’m not panicking.
Other decisions can be made later.