Page 40 of Try Line Hearts
“I just… need to think,” he said instead. “That’s all.”
Kaine exhaled slowly. “Okay. Processing.”
The lights dimmed.
Onscreen, they moved together like something inevitable — Kaine’s line, Byrne’s read, the pass threading through impossible space.
“Beautiful,” Carmody said. “That sort of connection wins matches.”
Connection.
Byrne felt Kaine beside him, still as carved stone.
He kept his eyes on the screen and his heart somewhere far away.
Training was… off.
Not disastrous. Not meltdown-worthy.
Just wrong.
Byrne’s timing slipped. His calls caught in his throat. Kaine — who had felt almost psychic with him all week — suddenly moved half a beat out of sync.
They cut opposite lines. Nearly collided twice.
“Pick a rhythm,” Darren snapped.
“Nothing wrong,” Byrne said too quickly.
Carmody blew the whistle. “Captain. Kaine. With me.”
“You were poetry earlier this week,” Carmody said. “Now you look like strangers on a first date.” Those words landed with a thud between them.
“Bad day,” Byrne said.
Kaine hesitated, then said, “That’s on me, coach. Head’s scrambled.”
The lie hit Byrne like a punch.
They ran drills. Muscle memory did what nerves couldn’t. Not perfect — but functional.
“We can’t run like this forever,” Kaine murmured afterward.
“I’m working on it,” Byrne said.
“Good,” Kaine replied, softly.
By afternoon, Byrne’s avoidance had turned gravitational.
He didn’t run from Kaine. He just… orbited wider.
When he finally returned to the dorm, Kaine was there, outside the doors, phone in hand.
“Hey,” Kaine said.
“Hey.”
Silence stretched.
