Page 10 of On the Edge

He turns and looks up at me. “Jackson, I have tremendous professional respect for you, so please believe me when I say this.Youare the perfect person to train Nate.Youare the best at what you do.Youare the one who can get the most out of your athletes, pushing them to do more than they thought they could and keeping them healthy while they exceed their own limits. Not Nicolette or anyone else.” TJ points at me like he’s trying to drill this information into me as he repeats, “You. That’s why he was assigned to you.”

In any other circumstance, hearing these words from my boss would be immensely gratifying.

“TJ, Ican’t.” My voice is practically a whisper as I force it out past the lump in my throat. I break eye contact and glance out the window at the bright sunshine.

“You don’t have a choice,” TJ says, his gruff voice rolling out softly.

My head snaps back to him. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when I said there were some higher-ups making noise about your relationship with Marco? Well, this is their litmus test for you. If your loyalty is to the team, you’ll train Nate.”

“That’s not fair, TJ. Even if I weren’t dating Marco, Nate would be the one person I would never, ever want to work with. You know why I can’t train him. You have to understand.”

“I do, Jackson, and I fought for you. But this is out of my hands. Even Coach McCarthy wants you working with him. And you should take it as a compliment. You’re the best at what you do, and Nate needs that if he’s going to live up to all that potential.”

“This is a trap, and I’m the one who’s going to get hurt.”

“I’m sure you two can manage to keep things professional,” he says.

I roll my eyes. “Your faith in us is unfounded.”

“It’s beenyears, Jackson. That must be water under the bridge by now, no?” he asks as he wipes his palms on his workout shorts.

I wish. “Yeah, sure. Water under the bridge.”

“Listen, you need to get in the right state of mind for today. You have a training session with him this afternoon. Go do some yoga or whatever you need to do to get your head right. Clear your schedule for this morning if you need to, but be back for our team meeting after lunch. And be ready to face Nate after that. Okay?”

I look down the aisle of free weights toward the mirrors, and am surprised to see that I look calm.I can fake my way through this. At least for today.

“All right. I’ll see you after lunch then.” I turn and walk past the balance boards and the wall of TRX suspension belts and battle ropes, toward the door.

“Jackson,” TJ calls, and I turn to face him. “Tread carefully. Don’t let your emotions make your decisions for you here.”

I know this warning is coming from a place of love, that he’s giving me this advice because he wants what’s best for me. Still, all I want to do in this moment is to make Nate and the pain of the past five years go away. I nod at TJ, then head out the door. I know exactly where I need to go.

* * *

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Nurse Patty says as I stop by the desk to check on Ms. Juarez before I show up in her room. “And you picked a good morning to stop by. She’s been up since the crack o’ dawn and she’s already complaining about the lack of entertainment today. No cards or bingo happening, so she’s agitated.”

“Well I brought her some books of crossword puzzles and word searches, so maybe that will help. She’s not too agitated for a visit, is she?” Agitated is the term we use for when Ms. Juarez becomes so mean you just can’t stand being around her. At ninety-four, it doesn’t take much to get her worked up, and she stopped holding her tongue years ago, long before I met her.

“Nah, it’s a fairly good day so far, all things considered. And good on you, trying to keep that mind of hers sharp!” Patty says, her southern accent coming through nice and thick.

“Thanks, Patty,” I say, sliding three different packages of Swiss chocolate and Italian candies off the pile of books in my arm. I set them on the counter in front of her. “This is for the nursing staff, so make sure you share.”

“Ooh, you got us some fancy-ass candy from Europe. You have the best time over there in Italy with that hottie boyfriend of yours?” She reaches across the counter and squeezes my forearm affectionately.

“Sure did.” I wink, then head off to visit Ms. Juarez in her private room at the end of the hall.

She’s sitting in the reclining chair—the kind you always find in hospitals, with very little padding and a wipeable vinyl fabric—looking out the window. She’s got pillows propped on both sides of her to hold her steady. Her hair is a bright white against her dark skin, the long, wavy locks are wrapped in a bun on top of her head, and she sits with her hands folded in her lap.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” she says, after glancing sideways at me in the doorway. “It’s been so long I thought maybe I outlived you.”

At ninety-four, she’s outlived everyone she once knew. When I met her a few years ago doing clinical rotations in a rehabilitation facility during my doctoral program, she’d just had a hip replacement. She wasn’t able to live independently anymore, so she moved to a nursing home and has been here since.

“Now Ms. Juarez,” I say as I come and sit on the end of her hospital bed because it’s the nearest seat to her. “You knew I was going to Italy for a month.”

“Did I?” She looks back out the window with her chin jutted in the air, sounding disinterested rather than confused.

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