The practice had been grueling, and Caden was feeling the burn. His legs were heavy from the run that morning, and the pressure of having to prove himself was starting to wear him down. He’d made it through the first drills, barely breaking a sweat, but when they started running plays, things got messy.

It was during a critical pass play that he screwed up—just one misstep, one moment of hesitation—and he watched the ball sail wide of the intended receiver. The throw was off, and even from where he stood, he could see the disappointed looks from his teammates.

“Caden!” Coach Hawkins’ voice boomed across the field.

Caden’s stomach dropped. He knew exactly what was coming. He didn’t need to hear the words. He already felt the sting of failure. Hawkins’ gaze was like a laser, singling him out in front of everyone.

“You seriously messed that up?” Hawkins spat, his voice sharp. “You’re supposed to be one of our best, and you miss that easy pass? What the hell, Caden?”

Caden opened his mouth to respond, but Hawkins didn’t give him a chance.

“You’re better than that, but you’re not showing it,” Hawkins continued, pacing in front of him now, his eyes narrowed. “That was a basic throw. You can’t afford to mess up like that in a real game. One mistake like that could cost us the whole damn season.”

Caden stood there, fists clenched at his sides. His jaw was tight, trying to keep the frustration in check. It was one mistake. One. And yet, to Hawkins, it was like he’d just blown the entire season.

“You think you can just show up here and throw half-assed passes?” Hawkins barked. “You’ve been slacking, Caden. What the hell’s going on? You’ve got all the talent, but you’re too busy thinking about other crap to focus.”

Caden felt his chest tighten. He’d been pushing himself so hard, trying to stay on top of everything, but it was never enough. Hawkins was right, though—he had messed up. And now, here it was, coming down on him like a ton of bricks.

“Coach, I—” Caden started, but Hawkins cut him off again.

“Don’t. Don’t even start with excuses,” Hawkins snapped. “I’ve had enough of the ‘I’ll do better next time.’ Show me. Prove it.”

Caden was about to respond, but before he could open his mouth, Hawkins waved him off, turning to address the rest of the team. “Get your head in the game, Caden. You can’t afford to keep making these mistakes. You’re not some backup. You’re a starter. Act like it.”

Caden’s chest burned with frustration, and for a moment, he thought about saying something back—something that would make Hawkins see he was trying. But instead, he just nodded, silent, as Hawkins moved on to the next drill.

Caden pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers tapping quickly as he sent the text to Rose:

“Hey, can you wait for a minute? I parked in a different lot than usual, so I’ll be inside for a second. Be right there.”

He hit send, then shoved the phone back into his pocket, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. He’d promised her lunch, and he wasn’t about to make her wait more than necessary.

As he walked to his locker, the weight of practice still hung heavily on him—his legs were sore, his head buzzing from the intensity of the drills. But there was one thing still hanging over him, something he’d been trying to shake all day: Coach Hawkins.

Caden knew he wouldn’t get out of this without some kind of talk. Hawkins had been on his case all week, pushing him harder than ever. He could feel it coming. The coach wasn’t one to let mistakes slide, especially after today’s performance.

Sure enough, as he pulled his bag from the locker and started to stuff his gear inside, he heard the familiar voice behind him.

“Caden.”

The coach was standing there, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. He looked like he could’ve been ready to explode any second. Caden had seen this look enough times to know what was coming.

"I don't know what the hell happened out there today," Coach began, his voice low but seething with irritation. "But I’ll tell you this much—that wasn’t the kind of performance we need from a starter. That was pathetic."

Caden didn’t respond, didn’t even try to justify himself. He knew it wouldn’t do any good. The silence only made the coach’s temper worse.

"Do you know what the hell you did out there?" Coach continued, his voice rising now, getting louder with every word. "You missed easy throws—throws you should be making in your sleep! You cost us precious time, precious time that we can’t afford to waste. This is not some practice game, Caden, this is serious. Every throw matters. Every."

The words hit him like a slap in the face, each one digging deeper, and Caden could feel his own anger bubbling up. He clenched his fists at his sides, jaw tight. The frustration had been building in him all day, and now it was getting harder to swallow.