“No.”
The word is clipped. Definitive. I nod again and crouch beside him to adjust the band tension, giving him space while still staying close. He doesn’t flinch when I brush his ankle to correct his foot alignment, but he doesn’t meet my eyes either.
“It’s fine,” he repeats, like saying it again will make it true.
I don’t push. Not yet. Whatever it is, he’s not ready to share it—and I’ve worked with enough athletes to know that prying too soon just makes them pull away harder. Especially ones like Declan, who carry their pain like armor.
Still, as he moves into the next set, slower now, I can’t ignore the shift in the room. It’s quiet, heavy with something unspoken.
And I have a feeling it has nothing to do with his knee.
We move through most of the session in silence. No sarcastic comments. No drawn-out sighs or fake protests about protocol. Just reps, braces, adjustments, and the kind of quiet that isn’t peaceful—just thick.
By the time we switch to seated extensions, I know I’m not imagining it. He’s usually gruff, sure. But never this shut down.
“Okay, foot flexed,” I say gently, kneeling beside him as I guide his leg into position. “We’ll go for eight—just slow and steady.”
He nods, still not looking at me. His quad tenses, the brace clicks slightly as he starts the first rep. But his focus drifts somewhere else.
“I hate to see Sophie hurting,” he mutters so quietly I barely catch it.
My heart jumps, my mind filling with questions, but I force myself not to interrupt. I let him continue when he’s ready.
He doesn’t seem to notice he said it out loud. Just keeps his eyes fixed ahead. A long beat stretches before he exhales.
“Her mom was supposed to visit this weekend,” he adds. “Said she’d take Sophie shopping. Maybe lunch. Sophie tries to hide it, but she gets excited every time she thinks she’ll hang out with her.”
I stay quiet. My hands are still on his brace, fingers lightly resting over the hinge. His voice is even, but something about it makes my chest go tight. Not the words—those are calm. Controlled. It’s the undertow beneath them that hits.
“She canceled.” His voice is flat, detached. “Texted Sophie yesterday. Sophie said it’s fine. Said she forgot about it anyway.”
He looks down for the first time, jaw flexing once.
“She didn’t,” he says, softer now. Like admitting it out loud costs him something.
I don’t say anything, just stay crouched beside him. He’s quiet for a long beat, then the words come low and almost surprised—like he’s hearing himself say them.
“Vanessa and I… it was never steady,” he says finally. “We were kids who thought we had it figured out. She got pregnant, and I told myself marrying her was the right thing. That I could make it work if I just tried hard enough.”
His mouth pulls tight, a faint shake of his head. “Turns out that’s not the same thing as being happy. Or ready.”
He exhales, almost laughs, but it’s quiet. “Anyway. That was a lifetime ago.”
He flexes his knee again, as if the motion gives him something to do with his hands. “Sophie’s the only part of it that ever made sense.”
It’s the most he’s said to me about anything personal. And I know this isn’t about venting. I get the feeling he’s not someone who unloads to feel better. This is just… leaking out.
I stay still, the air between us heavy with things unsaid. For a second, I see it—the weight of doing what he thought was right, even when it cost him.
I stay crouched beside him, the band still looped around his ankle, one hand steady on the brace. “That’s hard,” I say softly. “I’m sorry.”
He nods once, like he accepts it, but doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.
We do the next set in silence. But it’s different now. Not lighter, not exactly—but less sharp around the edges. Like letting it out gave him a little more room to breathe.
And when I rise to adjust the timer, I don’t miss the way he exhales, like he’s been holding that in for hours.
Declan finishes his cooldown without complaint. No eye rolls. No cracks about overachieving medical staff. He gives me a quiet nod as he limps out. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but his shoulders don’t seem quite so tense.
