Page 187 of Hard Pass

They do if whoever’s behind them gets spooked.

My breath burns in my chest, but I can’t push it out and draw it in fast enough.

This isn’t random. It never was.

I handed it to him. I told him. Every detail—my hand, the play. Jesus.

“And look, adjust on the fly if you need to. You don’t feel the play? Don’t force it. You’ve got other options. Trust yourself. That’s how you’ve gotten this far.”

That’s how I’ve gotten this far?

And yet, he has no fucking problem ruining my career that’s only just begun. Why? Why the fuck would he do that?

I shove up off the chair.

Space. Air. Privacy. Something to hit.

The hallway is empty when I move into it. My footsteps echo as I walk without thinking, pushing through the double doors into the training area.

The room’s empty. The lights are dim. Without thinking, I move toward the medicine ball in the corner and grab it.

Turn.

And then launch it at the wall as hard as I can.

My grunt fills the room as it slams into the concrete wall and bounces back.

I catch it and throw it again. Harder.

The sound cracks through the room. Echoes.

Again and again.

Over and over.

Each throw harder than the last.

Each impact knocks something loose I can’t shove back down.

“Fuck.” The word rips out of me as I throw it again, this time with everything I have left in me. It rebounds wild and I barely catch it.

I throw it again anyway because if I stop, I have to think, and if I have to think, I have to accept it.

He knew.

I grunt as the ball leaves my hands.

He fucking knew.

I pick it up and slam it into the wall again.

And he did it anyway.

My arms burn. My chest is so tight it hurts. My vision blurs.

All I can see is him sitting across from me. Nodding. Of course. I’ve got you covered, man.

A harsh laugh tears out of me. Covered. Yeah. He covered me all right.