Page 33 of The No Try Zone
Colin.
My body, betrayer that it is, erupts in goose bumps even while I keep my focus on Jamie as he blows out a breath. “You’re doing great,” I coach. “Breathe through it.”
Wish I could do the same.
“Jamie,” Colin says behind me. “She putting you through your paces?”
Jamie gives him a broad grin as he lifts his massive leg sideways once more, moving the twenty-pound weight like it’s a nuisance. “Nothing I can’t handle, Coach.”
I can’t help but laugh. “That’s not what you said a minute ago when you were cursing my family line.”
Jamie flushes with embarrassment. “Because you’re ruthless.”
“That’s what she’s paid to do,” Colin says.
My chest warms at the compliment. I scowl.
“You’d think she’d be a little nicer, given she’s Ollie’s sister and all.” Jamie switches to his left leg, grunting as he lifts it.
My jaw clenches. One thing I didn’t think about when I took this job was the constant ‘Ollie’s sister’ refrain that I’ve been subjected to. It’s infuriating and more than a little demoralizing, because I’m certain the players think I only got the job because of Ollie. It doesn’t matter that I’m perfectly capable –morethan capable, in fact – because in their eyes, I’m just Ollie’s sister.
“Let me get this straight,” Colin says. “You want your PT to go easy on you so that you don’t heal properly and injure yourself the next time you take a hit on the pitch?”
“No,” Jamie mutters.
“I didn’t hear you,” Colin says.
“No, Coach,” Jamie repeats, louder this time.
“Just making sure.”
“You’re all done,” I tell Jamie, whose face falls in relief. “Same time tomorrow. And don’t make me hunt you down.” He really has another round of exercises to do, but if I have to stay here and listen to Colin belittle me in front of his player one more second, I might punch him.
He flashes me a sheepish grin as he backs away. “Yes, ma’am.”
Without turning to look at Colin, I grab the spray and set about cleaning the station.
“Sam.” Colin’s voice is soft and tender.
“What.” I wipe the machine like it’s personally wronged me.
“Sam,” he repeats, his fingers gazing my elbow.
I turn and brandish the spray bottle at him. “Touch me again, Thicke, I fucking dare you.”
“What the hell?” He holds his hands up.
I step toward him, but he doesn’t move. “What right do you have coming in here and saying things like that?”
“I wassupportingyou.”
“You wereunderminingme, you pompous prick!”
His lips quirk. “Your insults are something else, you know that?”
“Don’t do that!”
“Do what?”
