AGAINST the ODDS

Chapter 12: Cracks in the Armor

(Lillian's POV – She's frustrated with him, but when he opens up about his fears, she softens.)

⸻

Jaxon Reid is the most infuriating patient I've ever had.

It's not just that he refuses to listen. It's not just the stubborn streak a mile wide or the defiance in his eyes every time I tell him to take it easy.

It's the fact that I know what's driving him.

And he won't admit it.

Not to me. Not to anyone.

But I see it in the way his hands clench when he struggles through an exercise. The way his breathing turns sharp when his knee doesn't cooperate the way he wants. The way his frustration always simmers just beneath the surface, ready to explode.

And the way he looks at me—like he wants to fight me, not because he doesn't trust me, but because trusting me means facing the truth.

He's scared.

But fear isn't something Jaxon Reid allows himself to feel.

And if he doesn't let it out soon, it's going to destroy him.

⸻

Tough Love Isn't Working

It's been a brutal week of therapy, and I'm done playing his games.

I lean against the table, arms crossed, watching as he finishes the last of his knee flexion exercises. He's pushing harder than I told him to, and I can tell by the tightness in his jaw that he's in pain.

"Slow down," I warn.

"I got it."

"You're forcing the movement."

"I got it."

I exhale, biting back my frustration. "Jaxon, if you don't—"

"I said I got it, Lillian."

His voice is sharp, his eyes flashing with irritation as he looks at me.

That's it.

I push off the table and step closer, lowering my voice. "You know, for someone so obsessed with control, you're doing a great job of losing it."

His jaw tightens. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're letting your fear make the decisions instead of your brain."

His nostrils flare. "I'm not afraid of anything."

I arch a brow. "Really? Then why are you acting like your career is already over?"

His entire body goes still.

Gotcha.

He doesn't speak for a long moment, his gaze locked on mine.

Then, without another word, he drops the therapy band and shoves himself up from the table.

Or at least, he tries to.

His knee gives out halfway through, and he catches himself on the table's edge, wincing.

I don't reach for him.

I don't move.

Because I know Jaxon Reid well enough to understand that offering help right now will only make it worse.

Instead, I wait.

And after a long, excruciating silence, he finally sinks back onto the table, rubbing a hand over his face.

When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. Rougher.

"You don't get it."

I sit down on the stool across from him, giving him space but not backing down. "Then help me understand."

⸻

A Truth He's Never Spoken

Jaxon exhales slowly, staring down at his hands.

"I was never supposed to make it this far," he mutters. "No one thought I would."

I frown, staying silent, letting him talk.

"I was a third-string backup in college. Nobody gave a damn about me. I wasn't the biggest, the fastest, the strongest. But I worked. I clawed my way up. When I got drafted, they said I wouldn't last more than a year. And when I finally became a starter, they said I was a fluke."

He lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "I've spent my entire career proving people wrong. And now..."

His voice trails off.

And when he looks up at me, for the first time, the frustration is gone.

What's left is fear.

Pure, unfiltered, terrifying fear.

"Now, I don't know if I can."

His words hit me harder than I expect.

Because this is the first real moment of honesty he's given me since this injury happened.

The bravado, the sarcasm, the defiance—it was all a shield.

And now, it's cracked.

⸻

Softening the Edges

I let out a slow breath, leaning forward slightly. "Jaxon, do you really think you've made it this far just because of your body?"

His brows pull together. "What?"

"You think it's all about talent? Physical ability?" I shake my head. "No. It's your mindset. Your drive. The fact that no matter what, you find a way."

He swallows hard, looking away.

"You're scared," I say gently. "And that's okay. But fear doesn't define you. How you handle it does."

For a long time, he doesn't speak.

Then, finally, he exhales, shaking his head with a faint, exhausted smirk. "You always have an answer for everything, don't you?"

I smile slightly. "It's part of my job."

He holds my gaze for a moment longer.

And then something shifts.

It's subtle—just the way his shoulders drop a little, the tension in his jaw easing. But it's enough.

Enough for me to know that, finally, we're getting somewhere.

⸻

A Change in the Air

After that, the rest of the session is... different.

Jaxon still grumbles through the exercises. Still gives me attitude.

But there's something else now.

Something softer.

When I correct his form, he listens. When I warn him to slow down, he actually does.

And when the session ends, instead of walking out without a word like usual, he lingers.

"So," he says, grabbing his water bottle. "What made you get into this, anyway?"

I blink, caught off guard. "Rehab?"

"Yeah."

I hesitate. "I... I like fixing things, I guess."

He gives me a look. "People aren't things."

"No," I admit. "But sometimes, they break like them."

He studies me for a second, like he's trying to read between the lines.

And for some reason, I let him.

For the first time, it doesn't feel like we're on opposite sides of this.

It feels like we're in it together.

And that?

That's dangerous.

Because Jaxon Reid isn't just another patient.

And if I'm not careful...

He might become something much more than that.