The gym smelled like sweat, resin, and something heavier—like memories Raven wasn't ready to touch.
She shouldn't have been here.
Not after what the doctor said.
Not with the bruises still blooming across her knuckles, wrapped in tape she hadn't let the nurse change.
But here she was.
Ball in hand. Sneakers squeaking against polished wood.
Each dribble echoed through the empty court like a heartbeat she couldn't slow down.
Too loud. Too sharp.
Like it might crack her ribs open if she stopped.
She bent her knees, exhaled, and released.
The ball arced high, kissed the rim, then dropped through the net with a clean swish.
Her lips twitched—half a smile, half a grimace.
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
The ball rolled back. She caught it, set her stance, and shot again. Missed.
"Damn it," she muttered, the sound bouncing off the empty bleachers.
The silence that followed was worse than the miss.
It pressed on her chest, heavy, suffocating.
"Stubborn as hell," a voice cut in, low, familiar.
Her shoulders stiffened. The ball froze in her hands.
Chris.
She didn't need to turn. She'd know his voice anywhere—the kind of voice that slipped under her skin even when she swore it wouldn't.
Exhaling sharp through her nose, she spun the ball in her hands. "Don't you have practice? Or are you stalking me now?"
Footsteps padded onto the court, slow, unhurried. She hated how aware she was of the sound.
"You almost collapsed in front of a packed stadium, Raven. Forgive me for checking if you're alive."
The ball slammed harder against the floor. Thump. Thump. Thump. Like she could drown him out. Like she could drown herself out.
"I don't need you here."
"Yeah?" His voice softened—not teasing exactly, but not neutral either. A razor-edge she knew too well. "Funny. You say that, but you didn't push me away in the hospital."
Her chest stilled. The ball slipped from her hands, rolling away across the court, out of reach.
She swallowed hard, every nerve screaming.
"That doesn't mean anything."
Chris moved closer, shadows stretching long across the polished wood. He wasn't rushing, but every step was deliberate, eating up the space between them until her chest felt like it was caving in.
"Then why," he asked quietly, "does it feel like it meant everything?"
------
The air between them still burned from her last words.
Chris's chest rose and fell hard, but his eyes never left hers.
And then—
The gym doors creaked open.
Voices carried across the court, low at first, then sharper. Laughter. Sneakers squeaking against tile.
Raven's stomach dropped.
Chris's eyes flicked to the door at the same time hers did.
A pair of her teammates—Maya and Jace—walked in, backpacks slung over their shoulders, clearly fresh from the locker rooms. They stopped mid-step when they saw the two of them standing there in the middle of the empty gym, Raven's arms crossed tight, Chris too close.
Silence.
Then a slow grin spread across Jace's face. "Well, well. Didn't think we'd find the captain getting private coaching after hours."
Maya elbowed him, but her eyes lingered, curious. "Since when do you hang around here, Chris?"
Heat crept up Raven's neck. She forced her body to relax, forced her voice steady. "I was shooting around. He just showed up."
Chris didn't say anything. Didn't move either. His hands shoved deep into his pockets, jaw tight like he knew exactly what this looked like—and didn't care enough to fix it.
Maya tilted her head, studying Raven's taped knuckles. "That doesn't look like just shooting around."
Raven curled her fists behind her back, pulse spiking. "Drop it."
But Jace's grin widened, like he could already smell the gossip. "Relax, captain. Not judging. Just… surprised." His gaze flicked between them, something sharp in it. "Guess everybody's got secrets, huh?"
Raven's skin crawled. She hated how her voice came out, too defensive, too fast: "It's not like that."
But the more she denied it, the more suspicious their looks became.
And Chris—
Damn him.
Chris just smirked faintly, that unreadable look in his eyes. Like he was daring her to keep denying, daring the rumors to spread.
Maya finally tugged on Jace's arm. "Come on. Let's go."
But Jace kept grinning as they walked out, tossing over his shoulder: "See you at practice, captain. Don't wear yourself out."
The door slammed shut.
Silence filled the gym again.
Raven's heart hammered, fury twisting in her chest. She rounded on Chris, voice sharp. "Why didn't you say anything?"
He raised a brow, too calm. "What did you want me to say?"
"That it's not like that!"
His smirk faltered, eyes flashing something darker. "Isn't it?"
Her breath hitched. The words froze on her tongue.
The door slammed shut, but Raven still felt their stares, still heard Jace's mocking tone echoing in her ears.
Her fists tightened at her sides. "Great. Just great."
She started toward the ball lying abandoned near the baseline, her sneakers biting into the floor. Every step was sharp, angry, desperate for control.
"Raven—"
"No." She snapped the word over her shoulder. "Don't. You just stood there. You let them think—"
Chris's voice cut through her fury, steady but harder now. "If I'd said anything, it wouldn't have mattered."
She spun on him, eyes blazing. "It mattered to me."
For a moment, his jaw flexed, like he was biting back words. Then, quieter, he said, "You think they haven't noticed already? The way you push yourself 'til you bleed? The way you collapse and pretend it's nothing? They've been watching, Raven. They see it. And now they see me here, worried about you. That's not gossip. That's the truth."
Her chest tightened painfully. She hated the way he said "worried," hated how it made her heart lurch against her ribs.
"Worried doesn't look good on me," she muttered, turning away, shoving the ball against the floor.
Chris moved closer, too close. His shadow stretched over hers, swallowing it whole. "Then maybe it's time you stop pretending you don't need it."
Her breath hitched.
She wanted to shove him back. Wanted to tell him to leave. But her body betrayed her, freezing under the weight of his presence.
The ball slipped again, bouncing out of her hands. She cursed under her breath and bent to grab it, but Chris beat her there. His hand brushed hers as he scooped it up.
She jerked back like she'd been burned.
He straightened, the ball loose in one hand, his gaze locked on her. His eyes were darker now, sharper. Protective.
"You can't keep doing this to yourself," he said, his voice low but carrying in the empty gym. "I heard what the doctor told you. You keep pushing like this, it's not just basketball you'll lose."
Her chest heaved. "You don't get to throw that in my face."
"I'm not throwing it in your face." His voice cracked, raw for the first time. "I'm trying to keep you alive."
The words hung heavy, pounding against the silence like a second heartbeat.
Her throat closed. She wanted to laugh it off, brush it away, turn his worry into something lighter. But she couldn't. Not when his voice broke on "alive."
She swallowed hard. "Chris…"
Before she could finish, the gym doors banged open again.
This time it wasn't just Maya and Jace. A cluster of teammates spilled in, chattering, tossing bags down, starting warm-ups even though official practice wasn't scheduled yet.
And just like that, the whispers started.
"Is that Chris?"
"What's he doing here?"
"Since when is he hanging around with Raven?"
Her stomach flipped.
The ball was still in his hands. Too close. Too damning.
She lunged forward, snatched it from him, clutching it to her chest like armor. "Leave," she hissed under her breath.
Chris didn't move. Didn't even blink. His eyes flicked toward the small group gathering at the far end of the court, then back to her.
"They're already talking," he murmured, just for her. "Running now only makes it worse."
Her heart slammed painfully. "And staying makes it true."
Something flickered across his face—pain, maybe. He stepped back finally, shoving his hands into his pockets, mask sliding back into place.
But when one of the guys—Tyler, loud and reckless—called out across the court, "Hey, Raven! Didn't know you and Chris were a thing!" Chris moved before she could stop him.
He strode forward, his voice cutting across the gym like a blade. "We're not a thing."
The room went quiet. Heads turned.
"But," he added, sharp enough to silence the smirks, "I'm here because she nearly collapsed yesterday, and none of you noticed. None of you bothered to ask if she was okay. So yeah, I'm worried about her. You got a problem with that?"
The tension in the gym shifted instantly. The smirks faded, replaced with awkward glances, some guilty, some defensive.
Raven's face burned. Her chest ached.
"Chris—" she hissed, grabbing his arm, trying to drag him back. But he didn't budge, his body solid, his eyes hard as steel on the rest of them.
"No one here gets to question her," he said, voice steady, unshakable. "Not after what she's been pushing herself through. You think it's funny? You think it's gossip? You try living half the life she does and then tell me it's nothing."
Silence.
Raven's pulse thundered so loud she thought she'd be sick. The ball slipped from her arms, thudding softly to the floor.
Chris finally exhaled, shoulders dropping. He turned to her then, softer again, eyes searching hers.
For once, she had no words.
And maybe, for the first time in forever, she didn't hate that someone else was carrying the weight with her.