Palmetto State Foxes

Coach David Wymack had been in a foul mood all day. That, in itself, was nothing unusual. The Foxes had a talent for fraying his patience down to threads, and recruiting a new player this late in the season was exactly the sort of headache he didn’t need. Still, he’d spent too many years building this team from broken pieces to pass up the chance when he saw potential.

Potential was a dangerous thing.

It made people hopeful.

And hope had teeth.

The elevator groaned as it climbed toward the tenth floor of Fox Tower, and Wymack leaned heavily against the wall, coffee clenched in one broad hand. Across from him stood the newest addition to his roster, silent and unreadable enough that he couldn’t get a proper read.

That alone was enough to put him on edge. Most recruits came in one of three ways: overeager, terrified, or cocky enough to think they were walking into something better than they deserved. This one gave him nothing.

He hated that.

The doors slid open with a reluctant ding.

Noise hit immediately.

Bass-heavy music pounded through the hallway, loud enough to shake the cheap wall art. Somewhere farther down, Nicky Hemmick was shrieking about someone cheating, which meant either a video game was involved or Andrew had threatened bodily harm.

Probably both.

Wymack stalked toward the common room without breaking stride. Inside, the team had spread itself through the space in a pattern he knew too well.

Danielle Wilds stood near the center of the room, every inch the captain even in sweats and an old PSU shirt. Her brown eyes snapped to him instantly, sharp with attention.

Kevin Day sat at the kitchen island with game footage paused on his laptop. He frowned the second Wymack entered, irritation plain on his face at being interrupted.

Neil Josten leaned against the far wall, arms folded and expression carefully blank. The kid had mastered stillness in a way that reminded Wymack too much of wild animals waiting to bolt.

Matt Boyd and Nicky were half-collapsed on the couch, arguing over a controller.

Allison Reynolds lounged beside them like she owned the furniture and the building it sat in.

Renee Walker was cross-legged on the floor, calm as still water.

Aaron Minyard had his nose buried in a textbook.

Seth Gordon occupied the windowsill, already scowling.

And Andrew was in his usual chair.

Still.

Silent.

Watching.

The room quieted when they noticed Wymack wasn’t alone. Nine pairs of eyes shifted to the newcomer. The silence stretched.

Nicky, predictably, broke first. “Oh, hell yes,” he said, sitting upright so fast he nearly knocked Matt off the couch. “Please tell me that’s not another transfer who thinks this is some inspirational underdog documentary.”

Matt shoved him back with a laugh. “Shut up.”

Dan’s gaze narrowed as she assessed the recruit.

Kevin’s expression turned calculating.

Neil’s blue eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly.

Andrew didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Wymack stepped aside enough for the newest Fox to be fully visible. “This is your new teammate,” he said flatly.

That was all they needed.

Dan crossed the room first. She always did. Responsibility was stitched into her bones. She stopped a few feet away, posture relaxed but alert, and studied the newcomer with the same measured scrutiny she gave every variable that entered her court. Then she offered her hand. “Dan Wilds. Captain.”

Behind her, Matt was already grinning. “Matt Boyd,” he said, hauling himself off the couch. “Please ignore approximately eighty percent of whatever comes out of Nicky’s mouth.”

“Rude,” Nicky gasped.

“Accurate,” Allison corrected.

Nicky was undeterred. He bounded forward with all the enthusiasm of an unleashed Labrador. “Nicky Hemmick. I’m the fun one.”

“You’re the loud one,” Aaron muttered without looking up.

“Semantics.”

Allison rose more gracefully, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her shorts. Her gray eyes swept over the recruit in open appraisal before she offered a cool smile. “Allison Reynolds.”

Renee followed, her smile soft and genuine. “Renee Walker. Welcome.”

Seth barely inclined his head.

Aaron looked up just long enough to register the new arrival before returning to his textbook like none of this concerned him. Typical.

Neil pushed off the wall next. He moved quietly, light-footed despite the solid floor beneath him. His expression gave away nothing, but Wymack knew better than most how closely Neil observed everything. He stopped near Kevin, hands tucked into his pockets.

Kevin, naturally, cut straight to business. “What position?”

Wymack closed his eyes for half a second.

Of course.

Dan shot Kevin a warning look, but he ignored it.

“What’s your court speed? Dominant hand? Shot percentage under pressure?”

“Jesus, Kevin,” Matt muttered.

Kevin’s green eyes stayed fixed, intense and analytical.