SportsCenter. My face is everywhere. All my worst moments.
Dr. Reyes:
And you chose not to add another worst moment to the list. That takes strength, Easton. Be proud of that.
I stared at the text for a long moment, then typed back.
Thanks.
Dr. Reyes:
See you Wednesday. And Easton? Write in the journal. Even if it's just one sentence.
I set the phone down and looked at the empty bottle in the recycling bin. One minor victory in a series of catastrophic losses.
But Dr. Reyes was right. It was something.
I opened the journal he'd given me and wrote the first entry.
I'm angry all the time, and I don't know why.
Tonight I almost drank. But I didn't. Dr. Reyes says that's a victory.
It doesn't feel like one.
The fitness center was nearly empty at six the next morning, which was exactly why I chose this time. Most of the team trained in the afternoons, and I wasn't technically cleared to be in the arena, but the judge's order said nothing about the attached gym.
I was halfway through my third set of deadlifts when the door opened.
Nathan Daniels walked in carrying his ever-present tablet and a massive coffee that looked like his fourth of the morning. The Shadow Wolves marketing director looked like he hadn't slept in days, but he still managed a tired smile when he saw me.
"Henley! I didn't expect to find anyone here this early." He set his coffee down carefully, like it contained liquid gold. "Then again, I've been here since four, so who am I to judge?"
I racked the weight. "I didn't think marketing directors worked out."
"We don't. I'm just here to grab files from my office." He gestured at his tablet. "But since you're here… got a minute?"
The casual tone didn't fool me. This was business. I grabbed my water bottle. "How bad is it?"
Nathan's smile faded slightly. "You want the sanitized version or the truth?"
"Truth."
He pulled up something on his tablet, then seemed to think better of it and set it aside. "ESPN ran a twelve-minute segment last night. Three sponsors have pulled out. Two more are waitingto see how the next few weeks go." He ran a hand through his hair. "But honestly? It could be worse. The community service angle is helping. People like a redemption story."
I grunted. "That's what I am now? A redemption story?"
"You're whatever we can sell to keep this team funded." He said it matter-of-factly, but not unkindly. "Look, I know that sounds cynical, but that's my job. Your job is to show up, do the work, and prove everyone wrong."
I sat on the bench, suddenly exhausted despite the workout. "And if I can't?"
Nathan was quiet for a moment, then sat down beside me. "Can I be honest? Off the record?"
"Sure."
"I've worked with a lot of athletes. The ones who make it back aren't necessarily the most talented. They're the ones who actually want to change." He casually picked up his coffee and took a long drink. "You're showing up for therapy. You're doing your community service without leaking complaints to the press. That tells me you're serious about this."
I raised an eyebrow. "That I'm desperate?"
