The trainer's office smelled like rubbing alcohol and desperation, and Leo had grown to hate both with a passion that bordered on religious.
Derek sat on the examination table, his ankle bare, his hands gripping the edges so hard his knuckles were white. The trainer rotated his foot, flexed it, pressed on the swollen areas. Derek winced once. Then he stopped wincing. His face was a mask of controlled pain.
Leo stood in the corner, his arms crossed, his knee throbbing. He'd been here before. With his own body. With his own comeback. He knew what Derek was feeling. The hope. The fear. The desperate need to hear the words that would change everything.
The trainer stepped back and looked at her clipboard. “The swelling is gone. Range of motion is back to ninety-five percent. Strength is imp
