Chapter 54 Max Suspects More
Dante's Pov
The door had barely clicked shut behind Micah when I felt the shift. Whispers trailed after him like smoke, heads leaned together, eyes darted from him to me as if the entire room had just witnessed something forbidden. They had. I let them. I wanted them to. The message was clear: Micah stays beside me. I make the calls. I choose where he stands. And he left that room shaking. My fault or maybe entirely his. He shouldn’t look at me like that in public. He shouldn’t lean into my hand like it’s the only place he remembers how to breathe. But he does. Every time.
I turned back to the whiteboard, pretending to go over the tournament bracket again. No one in the room cared. They were still replaying the moment I curled a hand around Micah’s waist and drew him close. They didn’t hear me dismiss the meeting. They only heard the silence Micah left behind.
That’s when Max stepped forward. Of course he did. He waited until the last teammate walked out before planting himself in front of me, arms crossed, jaw locked so tight it should’ve cracked. “Coach,” he said, voice too controlled, too calm. “We need to talk. Now.”
I didn’t look up. “You’re welcome to email my assistant.” “I’m not playing that game.” I finally raised my eyes. Max’s posture was all anger and protective tension and something else fear, maybe. Fear usually meant information. I liked information.
“What exactly is your concern, Max?” “You know what it is,” he shot back. “Or maybe you’re pretending so I’ll say it out loud.” I shut the playbook slowly and leveled a stare directly into him. “Try me.”
His jaw twitched. “Everyone sees it. They’re talking about it. So are the other coaches. You’re too close to Micah. Too protective. Too… involved.” A beat of silence stretched. Heavy. Cold. Then I stood. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just… inevitable. Max’s confidence faltered instantly.
I stepped around the desk until there was only a breath of air between us. “You think you know something?” “I..” His voice wavered, then steadied again. “I think Micah’s acting weird. I think you’re making it worse. And I think he’s terrified of something. Maybe someone.” The last word dropped like a knife.
I tilted my head. “Choose what you say next very carefully.” Max swallowed hard. “I’m not stupid. I’m not blind. You can’t pull a player to your side like that. You can’t touch him like that. And you definitely can’t look at him the way you just did.” “And what way is that?” I asked softly. “Like he belongs to you.”
I smiled. Max’s breath caught. “Coach, this isn’t a joke.” “No,” I agreed, stepping closer. “It isn’t.” His back hit the wall behind him. I kept my voice low. Calm. Terrifyingly calm. “If you’re concerned about Micah’s wellbeing, talk to the counseling office. If you’re concerned about team dynamics, talk to the captain. If you’re concerned about me don’t.”
“That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only one you’re getting.” Max’s fists tightened. “If you’re hurting him.” I leaned in, letting my shadow swallow his. “If I were hurting him, he wouldn’t run to me every time something goes wrong.”
Max froze. I watched the realization land. Micah’s fear. Micah’s stares. Micah’s dependency. Max had noticed. I pressed the advantage. “You think you’re the only one who sees him shaking before practice? You think you’re the only one who hears him breathing too fast in the locker room? You think you’re the only one who wants to protect him?”
Max’s voice cracked. “Then let me help him.” “No.” A single word. Sharp. Final. Max’s eyes widened. “You don’t own him.” “Don’t I?” Max shoved off the wall. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from him?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. My silence made Max pale. “Stay out of things you don’t understand,” I said quietly. “I understand enough.” “Not even close.” Max stared at me, chest rising too fast, eyes darting like he was trying to solve something that kept shifting in his hands.
“He flinches sometimes when he hears your voice.” “He leans into me more often than he pulls away.” “That’s not the same thing! That’s..” He swallowed hard. “That’s manipulation.” I stepped back, giving him space only because he had nowhere else to go.
“Max,” I murmured, “if you keep pushing this, you will lose more than you think.” His throat bobbed. “Is that a threat?” “A prediction.” I walked past him, leaving him frozen by the wall. He didn’t follow me. He couldn’t. Not when he’d already lost control of the situation. Not when he finally saw the truth in my eyes: Micah wasn’t slipping away from me. He was slipping toward me.
I should’ve gone to my office. Or the gym. Or anywhere that wasn’t where my thoughts were already drifting. But my feet took me directly to the security room. The campus cameras looped through their quiet recordings hallways, locker rooms (public areas only), entrances, exits.
I keyed in a few access codes that admins didn’t know I still had. A folder labeled PLAYER MOVEMENT — LAST 48 HOURS appeared. I clicked it. There he was. Micah. Small, anxious steps. Hands fidgeting. Phone screen lighting up too many times. Shoulders curling inward when whispers followed him between classes.
Max trailing him in two different clips. Alison passing by twice with a look that made every inch of me live-wire with suspicion. But what I cared about most I found it in the next file. Micah standing alone outside the meeting room after I pulled him close earlier. Head down. Breathing uneven. His fingers pressed against the spot on his waist where I’d held him.
Then he looked up. Toward the camera. Toward me unknowingly. Wide eyed. Flushed. Like he still felt my hand there. My grip on the mouse tightened. I scrubbed forward. Max approached him. Fast. Worried. Touched his shoulder. Micah flinched away immediately. But not in fear of Max. In fear of being seen.
Then he said something I couldn’t hear. Max stepped closer. Micah stepped back. Max reached for him again. Micah jerked away and shook his head violently. Then he walked off fast, almost stumbling. Straight toward the direction of my office. Of course he did. Of course he always did.
I leaned back in the chair slowly, letting my heartbeat settle into something cool and calculated. Max thought he was helping. Alison thought she was hunting. The team thought they were whispering safely. They weren’t. Not when I could see everything. Not when Micah’s first instinct was always, always to find me.
I clicked off the monitor, the room falling back into darkness. “Who else has his attention?” I murmured to the empty air. “Who else dares touch what’s mine?” Silence answered. But my mind didn’t. It drew a list. Max. Alison. Anyone watching him too long. Anyone whispering too loudly. Anyone who made Micah flinch or falter or think about stepping away from me.
I stood, letting the final thought settle over me like a locked door sliding shut. Micah could be scared. Confused. Shaking. But he wasn’t going anywhere. And the people interfering? I would handle them. Quietly. Permanently.