I nod and try to swallow but my mouth is so dry.

“Do you hear me?” he asks again more sternly.

“Yes, sir.”

When Coach dismisses me, I shuffle out of his office on shaky legs and collapse in the chair in front of my open locker. The contents, mostly dirty clothes and toiletries, lie on the floor scattered around my feet.

What a shit-tastic start to the week. It’s the final week before classes start, and I was pumped to enjoy the last days of summer getting back into the swing of things before the campus, including Ray Fieldhouse, is overrun with students.

I know I should probably feel relief that I’m not kicked off the team or out of school or in fucking handcuffs, but instead, what I’m feeling is more like panic. Without those drugs, I’m not only out of a job, but I’m also out of money. I broke rule number one in dealing—don’t get caught. I can’t exactly go back to it with Coach watching over my shoulder. I may not have liked how I felt about selling drugs, but it provided money I need to survive and keep my little brother from falling into a similar situation.

Angry footsteps interrupt my spiraling thoughts and Wes’ brooding frame casts a shadow over me.

“Didn’t happen to save any of it, did ya?” I ask without looking up. “If I were going to start doing drugs, now seems like the perfect time.”

“How can you possibly joke at a time like this?” he snaps.

Instead of answering him, I stand and scoop my shit off the floor and toss it in the locker, slamming it shut when I’m through. I head out of the locker room with Wes hot on my heels.

“Dude, stop.”

I don’t.

“Nathan.”

Stilling, I count to three and school my features before I face him. Wes’ expression has gone from angry to looking like I kicked his dog. He shoves both hands in his pants pockets and lowers his voice. “Are you alright?”

Laughter bubbles in my chest, and a strained chuckle escapes. “Nah, man, I don’t think I am.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I don’t know if this is my buddy asking or assistant coach Wes, but he looks about as excited to have a heart to heart as I do to dump my problems on his lap.

“Can’t. I gotta go figure out how I’m gonna make up for the money I just lost.”

“Wait. Just… wait a minute.” Wes shifts his weight from one foot to the other and lets out an exasperated groan. His blue eyes darken, and he pulls at his dirty blond hair. “Will you talk to me? Tell me what the hell is going on?”