Page 18 of Anatomy of Us

“If you clear her early because you want to see her happy, you get her hurt. If you hold her back because you're scared she'll get hurt, you screw her career because they won't renew her.” Her voice stays level. “Can you promise you'll be one hundred percent objective?”

I open my mouth. Twice. No sound comes out. I close it again.

Because the honest answer is no.

And I can't make myself say it.

Jordan draws a slow breath.

“And if someone finds out and complains, like another player or a staff member, there will probably be an investigation. A file. You get pulled off the case. And in the worst possible scenario… you're out.”

“The league?” I ask, and my throat goes tight.

“The league won't get involved unless there's abuse or compromised medical decisions.” Her eyes sharpen. “And here's the worst part.”

“The worst part?”

“Nate,” she says, like she's naming a storm.

“What does he have to do with—”

“He has everything to do with it,” she cuts in, still speaking low, and that scares me more than yelling would. “You know Zoe is in a legal battle for custody of the baby. You know what Nate's lawyer would love? To hint that the doctor clearing Zoe to go back on the field is also her girlfriend. Every report. Every test. Every decision. They'll call it unprofessional. And it could hurt Zoe.”

My chest squeezes. Air turns thin.

“He could use it to say Zoe came back because of favoritism, not because she earned it. That she risks her body because she's chasing being a star.” Jordan finally takes a bite of her croissant. “That kind of story. It's bullshit, but it doesn't only screw you. It could screw up her custody.”

“Jesus,” I exhale.

Jordan nods once.

“So think hard, because there's a lot on the line. We aren't only talking about whether you two get back together or not. This isn't just about you breaking her heart again if you do.” Her gaze doesn't blink. “Everything can get complicated fast.”

I stare at my hands. They shake. My mind fills with memories I don't invite in. These same hands on her bare body. Her back arching. The heat on my neck when she tugged my hair when we made love. Her nails on my back. My name in her mouth when she comes.

And after. Her quiet, soft silence. Her touch. Her kisses.

Jordan keeps talking, but her tone turns closer.

“You can't keep pretending nothing is happening. Sooner or later something will break.”

“Then what do I do?”

“I can't decide for you, Tessa.” She watches me. “You need to think calmly. And if there's still anything there for Zoe, you need to talk to her. I'm not asking you to decide today. Changing her medical plan right before preseason would be a screw-up. We go to Florida in two weeks. We're there about two and a half weeks, more or less away from the press. You've got a little over five weeks.”

“Five weeks,” I repeat, like it's a sentence.

“Five weeks to do perfect work on her recovery,” Jordan says, pointing at me. “And to be brutally honest withyourself. Every medical decision you make, ask if you'd make the same call with any other player.”

“I can do that.”

“Can you?” She arches a brow. “I'm not talking about the obvious stuff. I mean the small stuff. What I said earlier. Do you let her play a full match because she's ready… or because you like seeing her smile? Do you stop her because she needs it… or because you're terrified something happens and it's your fault?”

My lungs lock again.

“If even once the answer is 'because of me,' you come see me right away,” she says. “And we talk to Diana. No drama. With a plan. I don't want this to blow up.”

She stands and pauses for a beat, like she wants to add something.