AGAINST the ODDS

Chapter 16: Holding the Line

(Lillian's POV – She keeps it professional, but he's relentless in pushing boundaries.)

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I pride myself on my professionalism.

It's what got me here, what keeps me grounded when dealing with egos, injuries, and the constant pressure of working in professional sports.

I've handled stubborn athletes before. I've dealt with patients who push back, who don't listen, who think they know better.

But none of them are Jaxon Reid.

None of them make it this difficult to keep my distance.

Because Jaxon isn't just stubborn—he's relentless.

And lately, it feels like he's testing me in ways that have nothing to do with rehab.

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The Boundaries I Refuse to Cross

I know the moment he walks into the rehab center that today is going to be another battle.

He's smiling. Too much.

That cocky, dimpled smirk that should make me roll my eyes but instead sends a flicker of something unwelcome through me.

I push it aside.

"Reid," I greet, keeping my tone neutral.

"Morning, Doc." He tosses his bag onto the bench and stretches, his muscles flexing under his t-shirt. I force myself to look away, flipping through my clipboard instead.

"Ready to work?" I ask.

His smirk deepens. "Always."

I exhale, already bracing myself.

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He's Testing Me. Again.

The session starts as usual—intense, focused, with him pushing himself harder than he should.

"Slow down," I warn as he grits through a set of single-leg squats.

"I got this," he grunts, refusing to ease up.

I step closer. "Jaxon."

He finally stops, chest rising and falling as he looks at me. And that's when I see it—that flicker of defiance mixed with something else. Something he's not even trying to hide anymore.

Something dangerous.

For a moment, neither of us speak.

Then, he smirks. "You worry about me too much, Doc."

I exhale, forcing myself to focus. Professionalism, Lillian. Remember that.

I step back, keeping my voice steady. "If I didn't, you'd be limping for the rest of your life."

He chuckles, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "You say that like you'd miss me limping around."

I ignore that. I have to.

Instead, I move on, directing him through the next exercise. But the air between us feels different—charged in a way I shouldn't be noticing.

Because I refuse to be another one of Jaxon Reid's distractions.

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He Doesn't Make It Easy

After the session, he lingers.

Normally, my athletes finish and leave without much fuss. But Jaxon? Jaxon likes to push.

"Hey, Doc," he says, leaning against the therapy table. "Let me ask you something."

I sigh. "Do I have a choice?"

He grins. "Not really."

I cross my arms. "Fine. What is it?"

He studies me for a moment, then says, "You ever take a break?"

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"You know... relax, have fun, let loose?" His gaze flickers over me, assessing. "Or is this your whole life?"

I stiffen. "This is my job."

"I know that," he says, tilting his head. "But is it all you do?"

I open my mouth to answer but stop. Because the truth is... I don't know how to respond.

When was the last time I took a break? Went out just for fun? Let myself be anything other than Dr. Lillian Carter?

Before I can say anything, Jaxon smirks. "That's what I thought."

I narrow my eyes. "You're awfully invested in my social life, Reid."

He shrugs. "Just curious."

"Well, don't be." I turn away, grabbing my clipboard. "You're my patient. That's the only relationship we have."

For a second, there's silence.

Then, his voice—low, smooth, and too damn confident.

"Keep telling yourself that, Doc."

I freeze.

And that's when I realize—he's not just testing my patience anymore.

He's testing me.

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The Problem with Jaxon Reid

The problem isn't just that he's charming.

It's not just that he's ridiculously good-looking or that he knows exactly how to get under my skin.

The problem is... he's right.

I am always serious. I don't let myself relax.

Because I know what happens when you let yourself get too comfortable.

You lose focus. You make mistakes.

And in my field, mistakes cost careers.

I won't be one of those mistakes.

I can't.

Which means whatever this is—this tension, this unspoken thing between us—it can't go anywhere.

No matter how much he tries to push.

No matter how much I want to let him.

I won't cross that line.

Not now.

Not ever.