Veiled Echoes

C H A P T E R 19

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AIDEN

"Aiden! Focus!" Coach barked from the other side of the court, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and slam the ball down.

Pinching the nape of my neck, I heaved a heavy sigh and pulled off the bandana from my forehead, releasing my hair. Yet the feel of my sticky locks on my forehead seemed to press me more. It clung to my skin—suffocating and exhausting. Like everything else lately.

Before I had the chance to potentially pull out all of my hair, a looming presence behind me raised the goosebumps along my arms.

Knowing who it was, I exhaled another sigh and turned around.

"Aiden Lee, " Coach said, low and clipped. "What the fuck has got into you?"

Coach, gripping the clipboard tighter than I was holding onto my life, stared down at me with furrowed brows.

"It has been two weeks," he said, voice tense but quieter now. "You have a match in five days, and you have been playing like you've never stepped on the court."

My arms fell beside me. If it was under my control—a world where I wouldn't lose my captaincy, my dream, and the only pathway that allows me to prove myself—I would've been a petulant child. Possibly threw a fit, stomped my feet, and walked away.

However, knowing the stakes I have, I just stared over Coach's shoulder, hoping I could just find a way out of this turmoil my mind got itself in.

Yet the silence between us dragged my eyes back to him. Coach's eyes hardened with a harshness that often used to bring out a rebellious side of me, knowing it was fun to bring a reaction out of him. But with the years I have spent with this old man, I began to see the softness in the crinkles, a different kind of light that made me realise he truly did care.

"I don't know what's happening with you, but it's holding you back," he continued. "Your timings are off. Your passes are off. Your head is somewhere else—and we do not have time for that shit."

I clenched my jaw and cast my gaze down, knowing he was right.

If I had it in my will, I wouldn't have even attended the training. Everything in my body was telling me to just rot at home. Forget about everything and everyone.

"This isn't you. And it sure as hell isn't the guy I made captain." He hit my chest with the clipboard. "If there is something going on, fix it. You've got five days to get your head back in the game."

With one last look, he walked off.

"Take the day off!" He shouted over his shoulder before approaching Caleb mid-set.

I didn't watch their interaction, nor did I let myself spiral into assumptions. But when Caleb approached me after everyone else had cleared out of the locker room, it felt like a confirmation.

How many of my thoughts were actually just reality waiting to happen?

"I don't want to talk about it, Caleb." I sighed, yanking out my bag and slamming my locker shut.

Even though Coach had told me to leave almost an hour ago, I had ended up sitting in the locker room, blankly staring at the wall. Not thinking—or maybe thinking too much.

At some point, everyone else had come in, showered, dressed and left. I hadn't even noticed until one of the boys squeezed my shoulder in comfort that I wasn't aware I needed.