Page 98 of Shots & Echoes

Dad stirred his coffee, slow and methodical, like he was thinking through every word before saying it out loud. He hadn’t looked up in the last thirty seconds, but I could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying pressing between us.

I shifted in my seat, gripping my cup tighter, forcing myself to keep my expression neutral. But inside? Inside, I was still wrecked. Still feeling her, still tasting her. Iris had burrowed beneath my fucking skin, and no amount of hot coffee or small talk was going to fix that.

Dad finally exhaled, leaning back in his chair, his gaze cutting through the early morning light like a blade.Here it comes.

“You look like shit.”

I let out a sharp exhale, a humorless laugh slipping past my lips. “Good morning to you, too.”

His expression didn’t shift. He wasn’t joking. “I’m serious, Knox.” He set his mug down, folding his arms across his chest. “What’s going on?”

I forced a shrug, playing it off. “Nothing. Just a long night.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Dad had a way of seeing people—really seeing them. It was why he was such a good coach, why his players would take a bullet for him if he asked. And now, that same skill was turned on me, peeling back my bullshit layer by layer until he got to the rot underneath.

“You’re distracted.”

I scoffed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw. I could still feel the ghost of Iris’s breath on my lips, her body pressed against mine. I had my hands on her last night—and now I was sitting across from my father, the one person who could end everything if he knew.

I should’ve felt guilt. Should’ve let the shame creep in like it was supposed to.

But all I felt was want.

Dad sighed, shaking his head, his disappointment tangible. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you’re not careful, you’re gonna lose control of this team.”

I met his gaze then, my grip tightening around my cup. “I’ve got it handled.”

Dad studied me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to call me on my shit—really call me on it. But then he just shook his head again, exhaling like he was already tired of this conversation.

“Just remember what matters, Knox.” His voice dropped, steady and final. “You’ve already lost enough.”

His words hit like a slap to the ribs, sharp and unyielding.

I nodded, forcing a smirk that didn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah, Coach. I know.”

But the thing was?

I didn’t know anymore.

Dad leaned back, swirling the remnants of his coffee in the cup, his gaze fixed on the table. “I’ve been watching Evans closely,” he said, breaking the silence that had settled between us like a thick fog. “That girl has something special.”

My chest tightened at the mention of her name.

“She works harder than anyone else out there,” he continued, his voice steady and filled with pride. “Her work ethic? It’s impressive. She’s got potential, Knox. She could make that Team USA roster if she keeps this up.”

I nodded, forcing a neutral expression even as my stomach twisted into knots. He didn’t know what I knew—how we collided against each other in those drills, how her defiance ignited something dark and possessive within me.

“Just make sure you push her,” he added, leaning forward slightly. “But don’t break her.”

The words struck me like a punch to the gut. I forced myself to maintain eye contact with him, but inside? Inside, I was screaming.

“Yeah, I get it,” I managed to reply through clenched teeth.

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