look over at Carlos who’s putting stuff away, oblivious to the argument about to come. He’s got another few hours of care lined up for me. No way he signs off on a spontaneous trip to Vegas. I test my own tired muscles. My quads are already shaking with fatigue, my hips sore from the mobility drills we’ve been running most of the day. The worst part is, he wouldn’t be wrong. The last thing my body needs after today is another long, taxing adventure late into the night. I don’t know what I was thinking when I told Gen and the publicist I’d be able to get to her show.
“You ready?” he asks, coming over.
I glance at Sandy who’s now watching me also. Shit. This isn’t going to go well.
“I can’t.”
Carlos blinks at me, stunned. Maybe angry. No wait, angry stunned. Yep. “You can’t? What does that mean?”
“I have to get going. I have somewhere I have to be tonight.”
He shakes his head. “No. Where you need to be is in an ice bath helping your body recover.”
I sigh and shove my phone back into my bag. “No. I have another commitment.”
“Hell no, you don’t,” Sandy interrupts, his eyes narrowing at me. “Carlos is right. You’re in no condition to be doing anything tonight except taking care of yourself. Go get to the fucking training room and take care of business.”
I glare back, reading the part he didn’t say. Of course he knows my sudden rebellion has to do with Genevieve and he’s not about to let that happen. Shit. Now what? I think about her look when I asked if she wanted me there tonight. Then the look on Coach’s face after those articles when he asked if I wasn’t taking my rehab as seriously as he thought. I study Carlos now, his expression hard and primed to explode if I give him a single reason to do so in the next two seconds. Back to Sandy who’s clearly already resisting the urge to throw me in the water and hold me there. I want to keep my word to Genevieve, but enough to sacrifice myself and my own career? It’s just one show. She’ll have plenty of others I can attend without risking everything.
I let out a heavy sigh, a weight pressing down on my chest as I pull up her number. “Yeah, I’ll be over in a sec. Just have to make a quick phone call,” I say to Carlos who finally relaxes. Sandy’s gaze continues to bore into me, and he waits until Carlos walks away to lean close.
“You cannot skip out on rehab to go to her tonight,” he hisses in my face.
“I promised her,” I return with little conviction. God, I’m tired. I didn’t even realize how much until now.
“Well, then you unpromise, because you can’t afford another screw up right now. For your body, or with the team. You just came back from a physical setback and a PR mess. They’re watching your every move. But even outside of that, after what you just put your body through and will do again tomorrow, you have to take care of it tonight. You know that, dude. Come on. Don’t be stupid.”
Shit, of course he’s right. About everything. And he probably thinks I’m skipping out to have sex at her place. I didn’t even tell him I was planning a jet-set marathon trip to Vegas. He’d probably punch me in the face for even suggesting it.
“I know, man, okay? Just let me call her quick.”
“Yeah. You do that.” He shakes his head. “You know, for being so smart, you’re kind of an idiot sometimes,” he mutters.
I loop my bag over my shoulder and duck out of the weight room as my call rings unanswered. “Come on. Pick up,” I mumble, while making my way toward the training rooms. Of course she’s busy. I don’t know what’s involved with getting ready for her shows, but I’m guessing it takes a lot to turn her from the stripped-down girl I saw in her studio last night to the sculpted statue on display for the masses. I grunt in frustration when her voicemail picks up. I really wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice, for her to hear mine. I can’t fathom having this linger on voicemail and hang over my head all night. Breaking a promise is bad enough, let alone like this, but what choice do I have?
“Hey, babe, it’s Oliver. I hate