Page 94 of Cole

“I come bearing gifts,” he announced, holding up the bag. His smile faltered when he saw the television. “Pre-game already on, huh?”

Annie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Benji set the bag on the coffee table and studied his sister. “You sure you want to do this tonight? I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“No. I don’t really want to,” Annie admitted. “But I’d probably end up watching, anyway. Might as well have company.”

Benji unpacked containers of steaming soup and fresh bread, arranging them on the table. “You know, it’s okay to be angry with him.”

“I’m not angry,” Annie said, accepting the bowl he handed her. “I’m just... sad.”

“You should be angry. He gave up too easily.”

Annie stirred her soup. “Dad didn’t give him much choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Benji tore off a chunk of bread. “And Cole seems to have made the wrong one.”

“Maybe he didn’t love me enough,” she whispered.

Benji’s expression softened. “Or maybe he loved you too much to put you at risk. That can still be the wrong choice.”

They ate in silence as the pre-game coverage continued. The camera kept returning to Cole, who looked focused but somehow diminished, when he used to be larger than life whenever he stepped on the court.

“He looks terrible,” Benji observed.

“He looks tired,” Annie corrected. “The road trip must be taking a toll.”

The game began, and Annie found herself leaning forward, watching Cole’s every move. His play was off—not disastrous, but lacking the fluid confidence that usually defined his performance. He hesitated before shots, second-guessed passes, and seemed a step behind defensively.

“He’s definitely not himself,” Benji murmured, wincing as Cole missed another shot.

Annie wrapped her arms around her middle, as if physically holding herself together. “This isn’t just fatigue.”

During a timeout, the camera zoomed in on Cole as he sat on the bench, towel draped over his head. When he looked up, Annie caught a glimpse of his eyes—the same haunted expression she’d seen in her own mirror these past days.

“You think it’s because of... everything?” Benji asked carefully.

“I don’t know,” Annie whispered.

She wanted to believe it was, that their separation was affecting him as deeply as it was affecting her. But that would mean he was suffering, and despite everything, she couldn’t take satisfaction in that.

The second quarter was worse than the first. Cole was benched after a series of mistakes, and the cameras caught the tense exchange between him and the coach. He sat at the end of the bench, staring at the floor, isolated from his teammates.

“This is hard to watch,” Benji said. “Not just the game—but him.”

Annie nodded, unable to tear her eyes away. When halftime arrived, she muted the television as the sportscasters began dissecting Cole’s poor performance.

“Maybe I should call him,” she blurted out.

Benji set down his spoon. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No. But seeing him like this...” She gestured at the screen where they were showing highlights—or lowlights—of Cole’s first half. “I can’t just do nothing.”

“What would you say?”

Annie shook her head. “I don’t know. That I miss him? That I’m sorry about what happened with Dad? That I still think we could make a relationship work somehow?”

“Is that what you believe? That you could make it work?”

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