AGAINST the ODDS

Chapter 5: No Way Out

(Jaxon's POV – Denial kicks in. Retirement rumors start swirling, and he's not ready for his career to end.)

⸻

I'm not done.

I refuse to be.

But the world doesn't care what I want.

The morning after my surgery, I wake up groggy, my entire body feeling like it's been put through a meat grinder. My knee is wrapped in a thick brace, propped up on pillows, and the stiffness in my leg tells me I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.

The doctors warned me about the pain. About the swelling. About the grueling road ahead.

But they didn't warn me about this.

The helplessness.

The absolute, suffocating rage of being stuck in this damn hospital bed while the rest of the world moves on without me.

A low growl escapes my throat as I shove the blankets off, shifting to sit up. Every movement sends fresh pain radiating through my leg, but I grit my teeth and push through.

I've played through worse.

I've fought through worse.

And I'm not about to roll over now.

⸻

The Outside World Moves On

A knock sounds at the door before it swings open, and my agent, Drew Langston, strolls in like he owns the place.

He's been with me since my rookie year—sharp-eyed, fast-talking, always one step ahead. But today, there's something different about him. Something careful.

I don't like it.

"How's the leg?" he asks, closing the door behind him.

I glare at him. "Like hell."

"Figured," he mutters, crossing the room and dropping into the chair beside my bed. "Listen, I'm gonna cut to it—there's talk."

My stomach clenches. "What kind of talk?"

Drew hesitates, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

That's all I need to see.

I've known him long enough to recognize when he's about to say something I won't like.

I sit up straighter. "Spit it out."

He exhales sharply. "People are saying this might be it for you."

I go completely still.

The air in the room feels like it's been sucked away, leaving only the ringing in my ears and the slow, creeping heat of fury curling in my gut.

"That's bull," I grind out.

Drew doesn't flinch. "Maybe. But it's already out there. Reporters are speculating. Analysts are debating whether this is the end of your career. Even the team is having conversations behind closed doors."

My hands tighten into fists. "They think I'm done?"

"They think you could be."

The words hit me like a punch to the chest.

I shake my head, heart hammering. "No. I'm coming back."

Drew leans forward, his sharp gaze locking onto mine. "I know you, Jax. I know you don't quit. But this isn't about whether you believe it—it's about the league, the media, the sponsors. They smell blood in the water, and right now, they think you're drowning."

I force out a bitter laugh. "So what? They think I'm just gonna retire?"

Drew doesn't answer.

And that silence?

That silence is worse than anything he could've said.

⸻

Denial is a Hell of a Drug

Retirement.

The word alone makes my stomach churn.

I'm twenty-nine. At the top of my game. I have at least five good years left, if not more. And yet, because of one damn injury, people are already writing me off.

I shake my head, gripping the bed rails. "I don't care what they're saying. I'm not going anywhere."

Drew studies me for a long moment. Then, finally, he nods. "Alright."

But there's doubt in his eyes.

And that doubt pisses me off more than anything.

I'm about to snap at him when the door opens again, and Dr. Carter walks in.

Great. Just what I need.

She's dressed in her usual navy scrubs, her dark ponytail pulled tight, her expression unreadable.

"Agent Langston," she greets, nodding at Drew. Then her gaze shifts to me. "Jaxon."

I don't respond.

She's probably here to give me another lecture about taking it slow, about following the plan. I already know what she's going to say, and I don't want to hear it.

Drew stands, adjusting his suit jacket. "I'll let you two talk."

He claps a hand on my shoulder as he passes. "I'll handle the PR side of things. You just focus on getting back."

I don't take my eyes off Dr. Carter as the door clicks shut behind him.

For a moment, we just stare at each other.

Then, she sighs. "I take it you heard the rumors."

I scoff. "Hard not to."

She nods, setting her tablet down on the counter. "And?"

"And they're full of it," I snap. "I'm not retiring."

She doesn't flinch at my tone. "Good. Because if you were, I'd have to talk you out of it."

That surprises me.

I blink at her. "You?"

"Yes, me." She crosses her arms. "I've seen guys try to rush back from this injury before. Some succeed, some don't. But the ones who do? They're the ones who never let doubt win."

I study her, searching for any sign of pity, any hint that she thinks I should quit. But there's nothing.

Just cool, steady certainty.

It does something strange to my chest.

"I don't doubt myself," I mutter.

Her lips twitch. "Good. Then prove everyone wrong."

⸻

The Road Ahead

Dr. Carter spends the next twenty minutes walking me through my recovery timeline—again.

I try to listen, but my mind keeps drifting back to the rumors, to the headlines that are probably already circling.

Is Jaxon Reid's Career Over?

The Beginning of the End?

Can He Ever Be the Same?

I clench my fists.

I'll shut them all up.

I don't care how much pain I have to push through. I don't care how brutal the rehab gets.

I will step back onto that field.

I will prove every single one of them wrong.

Dr. Carter must sense where my head is, because she pauses, looking at me carefully.

"Jaxon," she says slowly. "I know you're angry. But you need to understand—this isn't just about proving people wrong. It's about doing this the right way. If you push too hard, too fast, you will set yourself back."

I exhale sharply. "I don't have time to waste."

She gives me a look. "Then don't waste it by making dumb decisions."

I glare at her. She glares right back.

Damn.

I hate that she's right.

⸻

One Last Thing

As she gathers her things, she pauses at the door. "One more thing."

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

Her expression softens—just barely. "You don't have to go through this alone."

I stiffen. "I'm fine."

"I didn't say you weren't." She watches me for a second longer, then nods. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Then she's gone.

I let my head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

Alone?

I've always been alone.

And if I have to claw my way back to the top by myself?

So be it.