by Sara Rider
“We need sharper defense through the midfield. Last time they bounced through us like a pinball machine,” Victor huffed.
“Then we need Chen. Bilodeau doesn’t have the speed,” Gina answered tersely.
Alex sat at the corner of the bed closest to the small round table where Victor and Gina were sitting and ran his hand through his hair. This was not going to end well. Hell, it probably wasn’t going to start well, either, judging by the look on Victor’s face.
“What’s the status, Martinez? I need some good news here.” The lines in Victor’s forehead deepened as he stared at the whiteboard like it held some divine secret.
Alex opened the e-notes on his iPad. “Alyssa’s doing great. I’ve spoken to her about being more diligent with her water intake to offset the cramps and gave her a detailed hydration schedule.” He continued through the list of players over the next half hour, starting with the acute injuries sustained at the last game and working his way out to the chronic conditions while Victor and Gina nodded along, interrupting him occasionally to reconfigure the starting lineup.
“That’s a hell of a list of injuries,” Gina said. “And you’re looking tired. Are you sure you can keep up with everything?”
Maybe she cared about his well-being; maybe she didn’t. But Gina sure as hell cared about her players. “I’m managing. But I need an assistant if I’m going to keep up with the level of chronic issues. Someone to take on part of the workload.” Someone to give him some much-needed distance from Jaime Chen. “It’d help if you could support the official request I put in this week with the team’s higher-ups.”
“If there was money for an assistant, you’d already have one. But I’ll do what I can. You haven’t said anything about Chen. Can she play tomorrow?” Victor capped his pen with a loud snap and crossed his arms, a clear sign he was in no mood for delay tactics and bullshit. Alex didn’t know why he’d been covering for Jaime lately, stalling on his updates all those times she’d refused to let him assess her. Hell, maybe he did. She was scared of something. What he didn’t know was why he let that color his actions until now.
“I had a more thorough look at her last night.”
“And?”
An ugliness spread through Alex’s chest, like black ink seeping into his lungs. It only took a few seconds to realize it was self-doubt. He forced himself to meet Victor’s and Gina’s expectant glares, which seemed to penetrate deeper with each passing second. They weren’t accustomed to hesitation from him. Most of his success was in his decisiveness. He knew how to make the right decisions under pressure. But he was missing a key piece of information about Jaime, and anything he said would be based on gut instincts, not facts.
“Holding up the same. Moderate pain and some concerning low-grade inflammation, but it isn’t worsening yet.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I don’t think we’re dealing with a sports injury. At this point, I think we need to hold off until she can be seen by the team physician.”
“I don’t have a goddamn physician on the road with me. For the next fourteen days, I’ve got you, Martinez. So tell me. Is she fit for play or not?”
Sweat prickled along his forehead. His judgment was compromised when it came to Jaime. He already had Carson Chester’s threats echoing in his head. But Coach was right. Until this trip was over, there was no one but him. What would he say if this were any other player on the team? One who didn’t piss him off the way Jaime did? One who hadn’t gotten under his skin and made him care too damn much?
The simplest thing would be to let her grit her teeth and play through the pain, just to get everyone off his back. With a little luck, she’d probably make it through to the end of the season. But at what cost?
“No. Not if you want her to be in shape for the finals next month. This kind of inflammation could be doing irreparable damage. Until we know for certain, Jaime Chen needs to be benched.”
“RUN, PASS! KICK SOME ass! Shoot, score! Score some more!”
Jaime’s palms stung from the amount of clapping she had been doing in the locker room. The pregame warm-up ritual, which mostly involved a lot of booty shaking, cajoling, and chanting from Jaime until the others relented and joined in, was silly but no one could argue with the results. She didn’t care that she looked and sounded ridiculous. The moment that last stubborn teammate gave in and clapped along, they tapped into a metaphysical connection that allowed them to read one another’s minds and create magic. How else could you explain the way they could launch the ball and have it land with split-second precision at the feet of another player zigzagging across the pitch at a breakneck pace?
“Line up, ladies.” Coach Labreilla was more dour faced than usual as he pointed to the hallway of the DC stadium leading to the field. Probably because their hardscrabble victory against New York had left the Falcons ragged and worn-out. But Jaime had never been more psyched for a game. The Bodies of Sport shoot, though still not public, was the biggest ego boost in the universe. She was itching to get on the field and prove her worth.
“You heard the man,” Jaime shouted, rounding up her teammates to follow Lainey out the door. The echo of the hollers and cheers against the cement walls was exhilarating. For Jaime, outcheering the other team as they made their way to the field was nearly as important a victory as winning the actual match.
“Don’t worry, Coach,” Jaime said as she passed Victor at the doorway. “We’ve got this. I can feel it in my bones.” More accurately, it was the fact she couldn’t feel anything in her bones that had her bubbling with enthusiasm. The stiffness and aches plaguing her for the past few days had receded to a distant memory somewhere during the night.
Coach placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly as they walked to the field. “I’m starting Bilodeau at left midfield today.”
“What?” She stopped so abruptly, she almost hyperextended her knees.
With his hand still on her shoulder, Coach spun her around to face him. “I can’t risk having you out of commission. I need you sharp for the play-offs.”
She flicked her head around to catch sight of Alex, who was a few paces behind them, hauling his gear to field. “But—” He promised me everything would be okay.
Coach crushed his fingers into her shoulder. “ ‘Buts’ are for ashtrays and whiners, Chen. This is not up for discussion. You still have a role to play today, and I expect you to do it without complaint.”
“Yes, Coach.”
She jogged the rest of the way to catch up to her teammates, aching disappointment dragging her down with each footstep. Her body felt numb and hollow, like her spirit had been sucked down a drain. The rumbling from the stands that normally saturated her whole body sounded oddly distant as she stepped onto the field. Never once in her professional career had she started a game on the bench. Rationally she believed all players on the team mattered, even if they never set foot on the grass the entire season. But experiencing it was a different sensation altogether. It made her feel like an outsider. Like her teammates were suddenly a mile away, leaving her behind.
It sucked.
Jaime’s mood didn’t pick up over the course of the first half. Her butt was sore from the hard wooden bench she’d been planted on for forty-five minutes with the sweltering sun beating down on her, and her frustration had snowballed to epic proportions by the time DC scored their third goal. She passed the time by shooting daggers in Alex’s direction. With only one physiotherapist on staff, there was no doubt in her mind who was behind her relegation from assistant captain to benchwarmer.
THE HARSH CLANKING OF sixty-pound weights slamming down after each lateral pull soothed Jaime’s mood better than any music could. At first, she tried to burn off some steam by running, but the shoddy hotel treadmill couldn’t keep up with her. After helplessly watching her team get slaughtered four to one by DC, she had some e
xcess energy to get rid of before she was fit for public interaction.
After an hour in the gym, she finally reached a zone where her thoughts and emotions faded and the only thing that mattered was pushing through the next rep. Her concentration was so intense, she didn’t hear the heavy glass door open behind her.
“You’re leaning too far forward.” The sound of Alex’s voice triggered a tidal wave of frustration in her chest.
“Maybe this is how I meant to do it. Did you think about that, O wise one?” She pulled through another rep as he walked into the room and stood directly in front of her.
“Sure, if your plan is to do it wrong.” He crouched down to face her, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to grab the towel around his neck and choke him with it. “You need to straighten your back.”
“I don’t need your help.” She wrenched down on the bar, feeling the burn of lactic acid shooting through her shoulders and back.
“Maybe not right now, but in a few years when you’re bent over like a hunchback, complaining about a bulging disk, you’ll be begging for me.”
She let go of the bar, letting the weights clatter. “Fine, Mr. Perfect. Show me how it’s done.”
She stood up and stepped away from the machine, giving Alex the chance to put his money where his mouth was. She crossed her arms and watched as he adjusted the seat and added 120 pounds to the resistance. He sat and pulled the bar down in a graceful, fluid motion. “Your knees should be relaxed, feet shoulder width apart, and back straight. Let your core muscles do most of the work.”
She tried to not let herself become mesmerized by the veins protruding along his arms as his thick muscles flexed and contracted while he finished his set. He exuded masculinity like a predatory animal. Ever since the night she’d let herself get too close to him—close enough to have a taste of what it would be like to be with him—she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Somehow during that night in his hotel room, he’d scratched through the layer of protection she wore and almost got her to tell him the things she couldn’t even admit to herself. It made her feel raw and vulnerable. And that’s why it felt like betrayal when he got her benched.
He was succeeding at ruining her career, but she’d be damned if she let him drive her away from her workout.
He finished his set and lowered the seat for her. She grabbed the bar and pulled down. “Argh! Dammit.” The weight of the bar nearly ripped her arms out of their sockets. “Do you lift airplanes in your spare time or something?”
He shrugged. “I need to be fit to do my job.”
Ignoring his smug grin, she struggled for a few more seconds with the bar, then conceded defeat and headed for the free weights. “This isn’t funny,” she muttered, picking up a couple of dumbbells for some bicep curls.
“Jesus, Jaime, you’re killing me here.” Alex came up behind her and pressed her elbows to her sides. “Keep your arms closer in to your body.”
She caught his eye in the mirrored wall in front of them and gulped. There was something about his controlled, confident demeanor that set her nerves on edge.
He slipped his arm around her waist and placed one hand on her stomach, pressing the other into her back. “Engage your core.”
She gasped as her abdomen muscles contracted involuntarily under his unexpected touch, and her heartbeat kicked into a dangerously high speed. From the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing in the mirror, she knew he felt the sizzle between them, too.
“It helps if you grunt,” he said, voice deeper and gruffer than before.
“I prefer to save that for when I’m behind closed doors.”
“The door’s closed, Jaime.”
Heat rushed to the apex of her thighs every time he spoke her name. The double entendre in his words, whether intentional or not, broke the last shreds of her self-control. She closed her eyes and let her arms hang at her sides. “I can’t do this, Alex. Just go away.”
She felt him take the dumbbells from her hands and place them on the floor. He stepped in front of her and tilted her head up. “Look at me.”
She opened her eyes. The sound of her rapid breathing seemed to intensify with his proximity. “Why are you doing this?”
“I’m trying to help you, and you need to let me. If you’re worried about staying in shape, I can design a low-impact pool workout for you until you’re back in the game.”
“If you really want to help me, you’ll get Coach to change his mind about benching me for the rest of this trip.”
“I can’t do that until you tell me what you’re hiding.”
“What could I possibly be hiding?”
“Besides your shitty form in weightlifting? I don’t know. Most of the time with athletes, it’s drugs.”
Her jaw dropped. “Christ, Alex. Do you really think I’m on drugs?” She knew people judged her harshly for her reputation as a party girl and never seemed to recognize that 99 percent of the time she was working harder than anyone. It didn’t usually bother her, but hearing it from Alex stung worse than it ever had before.
“I don’t know what to think if you won’t be honest with me. I need to know the truth.”
“I thought you’d know by now that I always choose dare over truth.”
He set his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. “Listen. I have some suspicions about what’s going on, and I can arrange to get you in for some specialized testing as soon as we’re back in Seattle, but I need to know more about the symptoms you’ve been having. Otherwise we’ll end up wasting time.”
“Now that you mention it, there has been this huge pain in my ass lately.”
“Dammit, Jaime. Can’t you take anything seriously?”
Anger flooded her entire body, pushing out all rational thought. “I’ve tried taking life seriously. And you know what? It sucked. I made a promise once that I would soak up every experience and live my life to the fullest. That I would always have fun. That is the most serious thing in my life.” Regret stung her lips as each word came out. Alex was the last person on earth she should be opening up to about this. But she couldn’t spend her life going through endless tests and painful procedures just so some doctors would believe there was nothing wrong with her. Not again. Never again.
She closed her eyes so that she didn’t have to see the curious expression on his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry for saying that. I know how hard you work and how much it means to you to play. Hell, I can see it in your eyes every time you lace up your cleats. What I don’t know is why you won’t let me help you, or what scares you so much that you’re willing to throw away your entire career to avoid it.”
His apology felt like a stab to the gut. “You promised me everything would be okay. You lied.” Her softly spoken words hung in the air like a dark cloud.
“It will be.”
“Being benched is not okay!” She spun on her heel and walked to the door. “Just leave me alone. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
He caught her arm just as she wrenched open the door to leave, grasp firm and commanding around her arm but not painful. “I can’t just let this go.”
“Why?” Her voice was a shaky whisper, overwhelmed by his warm breath against her already flushed skin. “Why can’t you just drop this?”
“Because it’s not just your job on the line. My reputation is at stake here, too.”
“That’s what this is about? You’re going to sink my career because of your reputation?”
He let go of her arm with an angry breath.
Disappointment prickled her throat. What the heck was she expecting him to say? That he cared about her? She was a job to him, and nothing more. If she wanted to secure the Bodies of Sport cover, she couldn’t let herself forget that.
“I’m not giving up, Jaime, even if you are.”
She looked up at him, casting steel into her eye
s. “Yeah, well, hopefully the long nights on the road have gotten you used to doing things solo, because that’s the only way you’re getting a happy ending out of this. I’m out of here.”
5
“I’M FINE. COACH IS just being overly cautious with me,” Jaime whispered into her cell phone, hoping no one would overhear the conversation.
“Does he have a reason to be overly cautious?” Jillian asked pointedly.
Jaime hesitated, somehow finding it harder to lie when she was looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. After a beat, her self-preservation instincts kicked in. “No.”
“I’m going to be honest with you. The magazine cover isn’t going to happen if you aren’t healthy.”
Jaime’s stomach sank. “I am healthy. The physiotherapist just has it out for me.” Somehow Alex had convinced Coach to bench her for the last three games. After the loss in DC, they were trounced by the Memphis Belles and the Miami Zebras. Three straight losses. It was a new record for the Falcons.
“All right. I’ll sort things out with Barrett and make some calls to see what I can do with your coach.”
“Thank you,” she said with a heavy exhalation, feeling a rush of relief.
She hung up and gave her eyelashes a second coat of mascara, then brushed her hair into a high ponytail. The shopping trip she’d planned with Lainey and Alyssa this afternoon wasn’t just a casual diversion. It was an attempt to release her internal pressure valve before she exploded. Each stop the Falcons had made along the increasingly humid Eastern Seaboard felt like they were descending into another circle of hell.
She was usually a glass-half-full kind of girl, but since getting benched Jaime’s optimism was nearly too thin to grasp. Even if her cover shoot for the Bodies of Sport issue went off without a hitch, she’d end up with millions of sports fans learning her name only to discover she was nothing but a second-rate benchwarmer. The world wouldn’t get to know Jaime Chen, fascinating underdog of women’s soccer. All they’d see is a woman who earned her token inclusion in the magazine based simply on the color of her skin.