Page 25 of The Backup Plan

One down, six more evals to go today.

Lucas

I don’t mean to overhear it.

That’s the fucked-up part.

I’m simply trying to find the office, the person who manages the temporary housing, to verify my stuff has been moved in there, when I hear my name.

The voices are lowered. Clinical and professional. A woman’s and a man’s.

“He’s clearly hiding something.”

That’s Emery’s voice. Fuck.

I stop. Not because I’m eavesdropping but because my body reacts before my pride can catch up.

I peek around the corner to see the head trainer standing with her. Evan? Oscar? So many damn names have been thrown at me today that I can’t remember for certain.

Owen.

Yes. That’s it.

Owen hums in thought. “Do you think he’s pushing too fast? Is he not fully recovered? What about pain?”

“I’ll know more tomorrow to be sure,” she replies without hesitation. “But I think it’s more than that.”

“Like?”

“A healthy dose of fear.”

Something inside my chest snaps at those words. She’s not wrong. She just doesn’t know the half of it.

“That’s a fair assumption.”

“He’s compensating. Over-controlling movement. Avoiding full rotation. Oh, and he lies without batting an eye.”

Owen chuckles. “Welcome to the NFL. Everyone lies to make sure they’re in the lineup and to stay relevant. There’s always someone behind you who’s hungry to take your place. Plus, he’s a quarterback. It comes with the territory.”

“I don’t care what position he plays,” Emery says, defiance in her voice. “I don’t—can’t—help heal someone who won’t tell me the truth.”

There it is again. That damn word. Truth. It’s like a blade sliding cleanly between my ribs.

I don’t wait to hear the rest. Don’t want to. I turn and walk the other way before I do something stupid, like confront them to defend myself. Or worse, let her see that she hit on something real.

I stride down the hallway away from them.

Hiding something. I snort.

How about pain? Doubt? Or the plain fucking fact that my body doesn’t respond the way it used to? That my arm doesn’t even feel like my own most times I throw. Or even worse, that I know I’m one hit away from being a cautionary tale instead of a comeback story.

Everyone hides something. Guaranteed she is too.

I shove the locker room door harder than necessary, and of course, I come face-to-face with the one person the Rebels have deemed to be their future. Cole Valor.

He’s leaning against a row of lockers like he owns the place. He has one ankle crossed over the other and arms are loose at his sides. He has a fresh haircut and confidence that hasn’t been dented yet.

“Storming out of here already? But you just got here?” His lips twitch. “Guess the doc didn’t like what she saw, huh?”