Rory
Dray was waiting outside the trainer's room with an ice pack, and the sight of it nearly undid me faster than the actual injury had.
My ribs had gotten worse overnight, the ache from the qualifier celebration settling into something sharper, more insistent, the kind of pain that made every deep breath a small negotiation. I'd told Coach Reyes I'd ice it myself rather than risk another close call with the team trainer, and I'd been fully prepared to handle it alone in the empty hallway outside the private room, exactly the way I handled everything else.
I had not been prepared to find Dray leaning against the wall beside the door, a cold pack in one hand still wrapped in the pharmacy bag it came in, like he'd bought it himself sometime in the last hour specifically for this.
"Heard
