“Worth equals output. Sometimes, you’ve got to put up with pain.”
“Missing a single game could be the end. Replacing you is easier than you think.”
“Golden boys don’t break. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.”
I corrected my gait, ice bathed until I was numb, slept on heating pads, took over-the-counter meds, and did all the treatment I could find. I pushed and pushed until offseason came, when I could recover and put myself back together, all to restart before spring training.
Tonight’s game matters. Everyone’s watching. This is the kind of night people will remember. The kind they’ll replay in highlight reels.
And if I’m not on the field, then what was the point?
Eyes stinging, I fumble for my phone. A distraction is needed, and the only message on the screen does exactly that.
Agent Shay
Not going to make it to tonight’s game but grab me a shirt, please!
And just be Cade
You don’t need to prove anything to anyone
I’ve got you
The screen shuts off, leaving only my reflection. Tired isn’t the word for what I see. My eyes are shattered, every line and shadow a testament to how broken I feel.
A single tear slides down my cheek, but I don’t look away.
Her words don’t make sense. I was built to play through pain. Built to perform. Built to keep quiet and smile. Built to prove myself over and over until there was no reason for anyone to doubt me.
But this message? It makes me question everything.
On autopilot, I haul myself up. Each step down the hall is a fight, but I don’t even try to hide the limp I’ve been concealing almost every day since the season started. I don’t care who sees it anymore.
Maybe Shay’s right. Maybe I don’t have to prove that I’m built to last.
I hook my fingers around the doorframe and step inside the room. Rio’s hulking figure slumps in his seat, as if he has been waiting for me to drag my ass down here for weeks and tell him the truth.
“Owens. What can I do for y—”
“My hip’s bothering me,” I blurt, clinging to the last thread of my confidence before it unravels. “It has been for a long time. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, and I think it would be best if I skipped tonight’s game. I don’t think I can—I don’t think I should play.”
The fluorescent lights above flicker, casting shadows across Rio’s perpetually stoic features. A beat of silence stretches long enough for me to take it back, but I don’t.
“Oh.” Leather squeaks beneath Rio as he stands. “Finally.”
I blink hard. “What?”
“After you went off on Scott Butts, I told you to be honest with yourself. It took some time, but here you are finally doing that. Putting yourself first.” Rounding the desk, he leans against the edge with his arms crossed. “I didn’t think you heard me.”
The golden boy wouldn’t dare say this, but I do. “Didn’t think I was allowed to listen.”
A gentle weight lands on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, rookie. Takes guts to take a step back when your whole life’s been about stepping up. I’m not sure who you’ve been talking to, but thank her for me.”
Her.
“Go get checked out by Isla,” he continues. “She will make sure you’re all fixed up. And when you’re ready and completely healthy, your spot will still be here. There’s no chance in hell I’m losing you.”
Placing my hand on top of his, I wish my throat wasn’t so tight. I need to thank him for saying everything I’ve needed to hear. For not making me feel replaceable. For letting me put myself first for once.
