Booth turned toward the sideline briefly, eyes scanning the perimeter. He didn’t make eye contact with me. I wasn’t on the list of voices that mattered once install started.
Mac appeared next to me, moving with that fast, silent pace. His jaw flexed as his gaze shifted to me, a dark, intense stare boring into me. He had a tablet in one hand and tension radiating from his shoulders.
“Where’s the report on Oliver I asked for?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.
“I haven’t written it yet,” I said, keeping my tablet clutched to my chest. “I’m still observing. Today’s part of that.”
Mac turned slowly, his eyes narrowing. His expression was calm, but the irritation rolled off him in waves. “You were supposed to have actionable feedback yesterday. Tomorrow is game day, Mercer. I need more than a hunch.”
“I needed more time,” I said, meeting his eyes and hating how my voice wasn’t as confident as I wanted it to me. “His symptoms are subtle. They don’t meet removal criteria yet, but?—”
“Subtle isn’t useful,” he snapped. “Subtle doesn’t clear someone or bench them. You were assigned Oliver because you said you could see what others couldn’t. Right now, I see a guy running clean reps.”
Before I could answer, William Benson walked up, coffee in one hand and his smug little smirk already in place. He didn’t bother hiding the amusement in his voice.
“She’s watching tendencies,” he said to Mac, not me. “Body language, mood shifts, behavioral tells. No diagnostics. No actual metrics. That’s not evidence. That’s guesswork.”
“They’re not guesses,” I said, voice steady. “They’re physiological deviations. His hand is twitching. His posture is off. His gait shifted between sets. You don’t need to like how I find the pattern, but the signs are there.”
“Vitals are stable,” Benson replied. “I’ve checked them twice. His recovery rate is within acceptable variance. Maybe he’s tense. Maybe he’s focused. Maybe he’s nervous, and hell I would be too. The guy has fought hard for this role, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. Just because a feelings specialist is worried doesn’t mean we sideline the starting RB.”
Mac let out a breath through his nose, the kind that meant he was trying not to lose his patience.
“I’ll have something in writing by tonight,” I said, firm. “But if he goes down mid-rep and you ignored my flag, that’s on all of us.”
“You’re telling me you want him pulled?” Mac asked, his voice rising. “He’s finally earned the starting spot, and you want him pulled because what—he twitched and broke eye contact?”
“No,” I said. I hated how my pulse picked up, how my throat tightened at the sharpness of his tone. “I want you to let me do my job.”
Mac stepped closer, voice low again. “And what is your job right now, Sloane?”
I swallowed. “I’m protecting the player, the entire player, not only the athlete.”
William snorted behind his coffee. “You don’t know what’s wrong, do you? You’ve got a file full of guesses and nothingactionable. That’s what this is. You're afraid to admit you don't have a call to make, so you're stalling until he either collapses or doesn’t. Which again, his vitals are strong.”
“I know he’s off,” I said, sharper now. “I don’t know why yet. But I’m not going to pretend everything is fine because the vitals you keep bragging about haven’t tripped an alert. We’re not going to wait for a measurable disaster to say we should’ve done something.”
“Jesus, do you hear this, Mac? She’s here one season, yeah?”
Mac raised a hand. “Enough. Both of you.”
We stood there, all three of us, tension heavy in the air while Oliver reset his stance at the 10-yard line, waiting for the next snap.
Mac looked back at the field, jaw working again. “Tonight,” he said. “Hard data. Symptoms. Timeline. Risk percentage. If I don’t have it before the staff debrief, I’ll remove you from the case.”
Then he walked off. I didn’t speak, and neither did Benson. He sipped his coffee and followed Mac without another word.
I turned back to the field and tapped a new line into Oliver’s file.
Vitals stable. Posture rigid. Visual processing delay. Elevated stress signs. Unknown cause. Watch closely.
I thought about our conversation at the bar last night, how he chose not to drink. How he stood up for me after hearing the men talk shit about me. There was more to Oliver than stats in a program, and I had to uncover what it was. My stomach twisted in knots with the threat from Mac, but I refused to let him push me away. This was my dream job.
Oliver stepped into position again. He was now the only running back taking reps in the current install group. Booth had shifted the drill to red zone stretch plays and shotgun pass protection. The drill wasn’t full speed, but it was mentallydemanding. These were the plays that tested instincts and stamina.
Ivy sighed, moving next to me. “HR’s up. Over 180. It hasn’t dropped since his third rep.”
“Any rhythm change?” I asked.
