Page 194 of Hard Pass

She doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t fill the silence. Doesn’t push. She just waits, and it’s irritating as hell.

“Betrayal hits differently from pressure,” she finally says. “Different part of the brain.”

I clench my jaw. “Feels the same.”

“Does it?” she asks.

I glance up at her, irritation flickering. “Yeah. It feels like everything’s on fire and I can’t put it out.”

Her lips press together. “And your hand?”

“What about it?”

“It’s shaking right now.”

My eyes drop automatically. Fucking hell, it is. I curl my hand into a fist to stop it.

“It’s nothing.”

She rolls her eyes. “You and I both know it’s not nothing,” she says calmly. “It’s information.”

“Information? If that’s the case, what’s it telling you, Doc?”

“That your body doesn’t feel safe.”

I shrug away her words immediately but something in my chest constricts at that. “I’m fine.”

“No,” she says. “You’re controlled. That’s not the same thing.”

Fuck, man.

I lean back in the chair and drag in a breath. “So what? I’m just . . . broken now?”

She tilts her head to the other side. “Do you feel broken?”

“No,” I snap, sick of the questions answering my questions. “I feel pissed. Furious. Fucking confused.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Anger means you’re still connected to it. That you haven’t shut down.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Feels like I’m about two seconds away from it.”

“But you’re here, so that’s a start. Now it’s my job to help you figure out what’s pushing you to feel like you’re going to shut down.”

“Kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“Say it anyway.”

I exhale slowly and unclench my jaw. “Pressure. Expectations. Media. Coaches. Fans. My dad—”

The word barely leaves my mouth before my hand jerks into a tremor more violent than I’ve experienced in a long time. I freeze.

She does too, though it’s more to let me know she notices.

“Cole—”