Ch. 3

Rowan POV

After the stupid warmup or whatever Matteo wanted to call that torture, I was already fed up. It was like he was actively trying to avoid saying my name unless he absolutely had to, and it was quickly pissing me off.

“Move left, Rowan. Shift right. Left…”

Those were the only instructions he threw my way. He didn't offer any actual corrections or any feedback. Meanwhile, everyone else on the roster got detailed breakdowns and coaching. If it had been the former Coach Jefferson doing this, I wouldn’t even care.

But this was Matteo, and it was pretty obvious what he was trying to do. He just wanted to show me that I was nothing special anymore, maybe I was just a regular player on his clipboard. Well, too bad for him. I was going to show him exactly how wrong he was.

The rest of practice went by in a blur of endless, grueling drills. By the time Matteo finally decided to blow the whistle for a break, my shirt was soaked with sweat.

“Ten minutes for a break,” he announced.

I walked over to the bench, grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, and emptied half of it in one go while staring at his figure on the other side of the court m.

*Buzz.*

My phone vibrated inside my gym bag. I didn’t even have to check the screen to know it was my old man. Who else would call in the middle of practice? I sighed and turned the phone face down on the bench. Whatever he wanted could wait until I was out of this building. Right now, I wasn’t in the mood to hear another lecture about basketball, therapy, or how I was wasting my potential.

“Captain!”

I looked up. Matteo was standing at the center of the court. “We need to talk.”

I frowned and walked over to him, wondering what he wanted now. He didn’t say anything right away as we stood near the edge of the court while the rest of the guys continued their drills down at the other basket. Matteo simply looked at me for a few seconds, his expression unreadable.

“Why am I here?” I asked, unable to bear the quietness anymore.

He exhaled quietly. “I’m going to be truthful with you.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “My dad didn’t force you to come back, did he?” I asked before I could stop myself. The question had been gnawing at me since the moment he walked into the locker room.

His jaw tightened. “No.” For some reason, that answer made my chest feel lighter. Then he decided to speak again. “Your father paid me to coach this team.”

The feeling disappeared as quickly as it came. I stared at him so hard that, if looks could kill, he would already be dead. So… it was just another arrangement made by my dad. I forced my face to remain completely blank. “Then why are you telling me this?”

“Because your father texted me a minute ago.” Matteo was looking everywhere than my face. “He said you’ve been ignoring his calls. He wants you to call him back.”

A smirk found its way onto my face. I looked him up and down before clicking my tongue. “Fuck you, Matt.” I gave him a flip, brushing past his shoulder.

“Ro.”

My steps came to an abrupt stop. I slowly turned around.

Matteo was really good at his manipulation game. He knew if he called me the name he used whenever we were together, I was going to fold. I tried to sound rude but he already beat me to it... “I hope you’ll keep going to your therapy.”

I said nothing.

“Your father had told me about the depression… and the burnout your therapist talked about.” His voice remained calm. “And don’t drag the team down with you.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “So that’s why you suddenly called me?”

He met my eyes with total silence.

“I would like permission to leave practice,” I said, not even waiting for an answer. It always gets me sad that my dad could tell everyone about my mental issues, even though my therapist treated it as top secret.

I turned around and walked out of Rowan ignoring his little calls. The cool air did nothing to stop the heat radiating from my face. I stormed straight back to the locker room, slamming the door behind me so hard, I was scared it’ll fall off.

I didn’t know if Matteo had any ounce of shame left, taking my father’s money and walking into the club when he clearly knew how much I hated my dad. He was controlling, manipulative, and always had to get his way. Everything had to go exactly how he planned it, and if it didn’t, he made sure everyone around him paid for it.

And Matteo, the same person who used to look at me like I was his entire world had gladly accepted it. Whatever, I didn’t care! I ripped my soaked jersey off and threw it into the laundry bin. I didn't even bother taking a shower. I just pulled a dry hoodie over my head, and changed my shorts and the shoes.

As I reaches for the door handle to leave, it swung inward. Matteo stood in the doorway. His eyes scanned my dressed up figure before settling on my face. "Practice isn't officially over, Rowan," he said, his voice dropping into a low, authoritative tone that made my blood boil.

"I asked for permission to leave," I said, stepping directly into his space, forcing him to back up a bit. "And since you're just an employee on my dad's payroll, I don't really give a fuck if you granted it or not."

Matteo didn't move an inch. His eyes darkened. "I am your head coach. If you walk out that door right now, there will be consequences for the next game. Captain or not."

I let out a laugh, leaning in close enough to whisper against his ear. "Try me, Coach."

I brushed heavily past his shoulder, intentionally hitting him hard enough to make him stumble back a step, and walked out without looking back at him.