Ch. 4

Matteo POV

The locker room door clicked shut. I stood in the silence staring at the nothing in particular. There was no point in chasing after him.

I turned around and walked straight back out to the court. I honestly had no idea what to do with this version of Rowan Hayes. He was defensive, aggressive and handling these both personality of his were exhausting.

Two years ago, I could always deal with his temper. I could endure whatever he threw at me because I knew how to calm him down. But now? He was a completely different person, and I was entirely out of my depth.

The guys had stopped their drills and were huddled near the bench, whispering among themselves. The second they saw me approaching back onto the court, the noise died down instantly.

"Where's Rowan?" One of his team members asked.

I ignored the question, because even I didn’t know where he went to. "Get back on the baseline," I ordered flatly. "You guys can practice your passing for a bit in an hour before going back to your usual activities."

The team scrambled back into position, while I stood at the sideline with my arms crossed, watching them pass the balls.

But my mind wasn't really on the drills. I was looking at the empty spot on the perimeter where Rowan was supposed to be.

My phone beeping in my pocket pulled me right out of the empty spot on the floor.

I reached down, pulling the device out, and looked at the screen. It was an email notification from the athletic department, attaching the final approved roster for the upcoming season opener. Right at the top of the list was the name: Rowan Hayes – Team Captain.

I locked the screen and slid the phone back into my pocket.

"Keep the ball moving!" I called out, locking my arms over my chest. "Wesley, stop holding it for more than three seconds. Pass it off."

Wesley grunted, quickly flicking the ball over to his teammate at the wing. The team was playing sloppily. Maybe if Rowan was here, it was going to be a bit better.

When his father had first reached out to me, offering a contract, I had initially planned to reject it. I didn't want to come back here. But then he forwarded Rowan files to me claiming Rowan only listened to me on the court.

So I signed the papers. I knew he was going to hate me for it, but seeing the hostility in his eyes today was a different kind of reality check. "That's time!" I blew the whistle. "Bring it in."

The guys jogged over.

"We're done for today," I said, keeping my clipboard at my side. "The passing drills were garbage. If you play like this during the scrimmage on Thursday, the varsity alumni are going to humiliate you on our own floor. Go hit the showers."

"Coach," Wesley stepped forward. "What's the word on the starting lineup for Thursday? Is Rowan running the point, or are we shifting positions?"

"The lineup will be posted on the board tomorrow morning," I replied, my voice dropping an octave. "Worry about your own conditioning, Wesley. Dismissed."

I waited until the last player had disappeared before I finally let my arms drop to my sides. I walked over to the bench, picked up my gear bag, and shoved my board inside.

I exited through the side doors, taking the stairs up to the athletic department offices, making my way to the registrar’s office at the end of the hall. The door was propped open, and the department secretary, Linda, looked up from her computer screen as I approached the desk.

"Coach Hudson," she smiled, adjusting her glasses. "How was the first official practice?"

"Productive," I leaned against the counter. "I need to make a temporary adjustment to the active roster for Thursday's exhibition game. Is the portal still open for administrative changes?"

"For an exhibition match? Yes, you have until five o'clock today to submit any depth-chart modifications. Who are we moving?"

"I'm shifting Rowan Hayes to the reserve list for Thursday," I stated clearly. "Wesley Vance will take the starting point guard position for the first two quarters."

Linda's fingers froze, she looked up at me, her expression turning hesitant. "Rowan? Coach, he's the designated captain. His father specifically requested—"

"His father isn't the head coach of this basketball program," I interrupted. "Rowan missed the conclusion of today's mandatory session. The team rules apply to every individual on the roster, regardless of their title. Please update the portal."

She swallowed hard, looking back at her monitor before slowly hitting a few keys. "Alright, Matteo. It's updated. But just so you know... Arthur Hayes already called the athletic director twice this morning asking for the practice footage."

"It’s ok," I said, turning away from the desk. "Thanks, Linda."

I walked down the corridor toward my office. If Arthur wanted to complain, he could call me directly. I wasn't going to let him dictate who earned a spot on the team, and I certainly wasn't going to let Rowan think his father’s influence gave him a free pass to treat this team like a joke.

I stepped inside my office, and slammed it behind me. On the center of the blotter sat Rowan’s file from the university health center. I pulled it closer, flipping open the folder to the final page.

The therapist’s assessment was dated just three weeks ago.

Patient exhibits high levels of emotional exhaustion and detachment from peers. Symptoms align with severe burnout, aggravated by pressure. It is highly recommended to maintain structure while avoiding high-stress ultimatums. The patient should be treated with care and not be pressured or provoked.