The practice gym felt different after a loss—quieter, heavier. The bounce of basketballs echoed louder, and every missed shot seemed to carry more weight. Players jogged in slow silence, their usual jokes and chatter absent.
Ryan stood at the sideline, arms crossed, observing every movement. His eyes weren't just on how the players moved—but how they carried themselves. Slumped shoulders. Avoided eye contact. The kind of body language he knew all too well from Rosehill.
Coach Reilly called the team together at midcourt. "Losses happen," he said calmly. "What defines us isn't whether we lose—it's what we do next. And I don't know about you all, but I'd rather face this now than when it really counts."
Ryan stepped forward. "We're not gonna run from the game we lost," he said. "We're gonna break it down and own it. Then we'll rebuild. Together."
He split the team into two groups and focused on small fundamentals: defensive footwork, passing under pressure, off-ball movement. Everything they had struggled with last game—they drilled it to exhaustion.
Jordan, still recovering from the loss, stayed behind after practice to work on free throws. Ryan stood next to him, rebounding each shot in silence. After twenty minutes, Jordan finally sighed. "I let the team down."
Ryan tossed the ball back. "No, you didn't. One game doesn't define you. But how you answer does."
Later, as the gym emptied and night crept in, Ryan sat on the bleachers, finishing notes on his clipboard. Ivy appeared beside him with two bottled waters and that signature knowing smile.
"You look like you're thinking too hard," she teased, sitting down beside him.
"I probably am," Ryan admitted. "It's weird, back in high school it was easier. I knew the team. Knew the town. Here… it's bigger. More pressure."
Ivy nudged his shoulder gently. "But you're still the same guy who pulled his team together. Who fought back from nothing. This is just the next level."
He smiled, the edge of his anxiety softening. "I guess I just don't want to let anyone down."
"You won't," Ivy said firmly. "And even if you stumble, you've got people here now too."
Ryan looked at her. "Like you?"
"Especially me," she said, eyes locking with his.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it was filled with something steady, comforting. He reached for her hand without thinking, and she didn't pull away.
They sat there on the bleachers, in the glow of the gym lights, a team rebuilding behind them and something new quietly blooming between them.