The café was quiet now.
The last guests had left, the music had stopped, and only the soft hum of the fridge remained. Ryan locked the front door and turned off the main lights, leaving only the soft kitchen glow behind him.
Sarah was wiping down the counter in silence.
Ryan hesitated before speaking.
"Hey… what did Richard want earlier?"
Sarah froze, her hand mid-swipe on the counter.
"Nothing important," she said, not looking up.
Ryan leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Didn't look like nothing."
She dropped the rag and turned to face him. "Ryan, now's not the time."
He frowned. "So when is the time, then? Because you've been acting weird around him since day one."
"I said drop it," she snapped.
He stared at her.
"No. I'm not dropping it. I saw the way he looked at me. I'm not stupid, Mom. What's going on?"
Her voice broke, tired and sharp all at once. "Go to your room, Ryan."
"No—"
"Now." Her voice cracked like thunder. "Just—go. Please."
The words were a wall. Final. Firm.
Ryan swallowed hard, jaw clenched. "Fine."
He turned without another word, disappearing up the stairs. Sarah sank onto a stool, hands shaking. Her eyes stared blankly at the closed café, the echoes of the night still dancing around her.
The next morning, the gym was quiet. No cheers, no teammates. Just Ryan, alone with the ball.
He practiced hard, his movements sharp and focused. But his mind wasn't on his form. It was on Sarah. On Richard. On everything that suddenly felt wrong and tangled.
The ball bounced off the rim and rolled toward the corner of the court.
Ryan jogged after it — and froze.
Anna was standing near the bleachers, hands in her pockets, hoodie pulled up, eyes locked on him.
He blinked, surprised. "Hey… what are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same," she said with a small smile. "But I figured I'd find you here."
He picked up the ball, leaning on it like a crutch. "Needed space."
Anna stepped closer. "Wanna talk about it?"
Ryan hesitated, then shrugged. "Not really."
She tilted her head. "That bad?"
He nodded.
She looked at him for a long moment, then sat on the bottom row of the bleachers. "You know… you don't always have to carry it all alone."
Ryan dropped the ball and sat next to her.
They sat in silence for a minute. Then he spoke, voice soft.
"Something's going on with my mom and Richard. I asked her about it last night. She flipped. Told me to go to my room like I was ten."
Anna didn't say anything at first. Just listened.
"I don't know what to think," he continued. "It's like… everything in my life was finally making sense. And now it's just spinning again."
Anna looked at him, her voice gentle. "Maybe it's time to stop trying to figure everything out all at once."
He laughed bitterly. "Easier said than done."
"I know," she said. "But you've got people. You've got me."
That caught him off guard.
He turned, and their eyes met.
For the first time, he didn't look away.
"I've seen you around," she said quietly. "You don't let people in. Not really. But I've seen you look out for Ben. I've seen the way you play… the way you protect people, even if you don't realize it."
Ryan didn't speak, but his fingers twitched against his knees.
"I think," she continued, "you're better than you think you are."
He finally exhaled. A long breath that felt like he'd been holding it all year.
"Thanks," he whispered.
Anna stood, brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. "Come on. I'll shoot with you."
He looked up. "You play?"
She smirked. "Not well. But I'm a great rebounder."
Ryan smiled — really smiled — and stood up beside her.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the court didn't feel like a place to escape.
It felt like the start of something.