Page 66 of Hard Pass

“Shh,” I say quickly as the instructor moves to the front. “Class is starting.”

The music kicks on. The room shifts as we take our places on our reformers. And as I settle into the cadence of the exercises, my thoughts slowly begin to process.

“I need my game back. That’s it. That’s all I care about. And if helping you figure this out helps it go away faster, then even better. I’ll do anything to clear my name.”

In all the cases I’ve been assigned, I’ve never had an athlete come to me like that. Desperate to clear his name and willing to do anything to help so he can fix whatever he thinks is broken.

That says something.

It has to.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Cole

“Again.” The word cracks across the field.

Not your dad.

It’s just Coach.

I nod, already stepping back under the center, forcing my fingers to settle on the laces.

A simple out route. Five yards. So routine I could do it in my sleep.

Snap.

Drop back.

Plant.

Throw—

It’s off.

Not by much. But enough.

The ball sails just outside his reach and hits the turf with a dull thud that sounds louder than it should in a near empty practice field.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

“Reset,” Coach calls from the sideline. “Same thing.”

Same thing. That’s the problem. I can’t.

I roll my shoulder and try to loosen what won’t loosen. My grip feels wrong. Too tight. My mind’s too aware. Like I’m thinking of throwing instead of just doing it.

And there’s the fucking tremble. Shit. I flex my hand and then fist it a couple of times. Trying to shake it out without drawing attention to it.

I glance over to the stands were Tristan, Jaxon, and Malachi are sitting in the front row, waiting for me to finish practice.

Jaxon glances down at my hand and then meets my eyes. “You good?” he mouths.

I nod. Flex my hand again and then step into formation.

Snap.

Drop.