Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

He lets out a deep sigh. “Not anymore. I handled it. We better go celebrate the win before Connor loses his shit. Can’t be late to my own podium.”

I ignore the desire to console him. He moves toward the main door, silently prompting me to follow. His eyes remain hidden behind a pair of dark glasses as we walk toward the podium, pretending as if nothing happened.

As if I didn’t find a breaking point in his rough exterior.

As if I don’t want to like him more than I dislike him.

As if I don’t want to help him for more than a paycheck at the end of the season.

And the last one is the most concerning thought of all.

“If it isn’t my favorite fixer?” Connor motions for me to take a seat across from his desk. His office is bare, with no personal mementos to decorate the place. I find it unwelcoming and sterile.

“I can tell by your face you think this place is boring. I won’t lie to you—I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, wondering when the board will revoke me of my job.” His eyes find mine, flashing with an openness I find refreshing compared to Jax.

“Not if I can help it on my end.” I raise my chin with confidence.

“That’s the spirit. You’ve been doing a great job thus far. Well done keeping Jax under control. And according to my sources, your first fundraiser went amazing. You should be proud of raising thousands of euros for such a great cause.”

“I’m glad you think so. I actually have something to ask you that could help improve things around here a little more.”

“Say it, and it’s yours.” Connor flashes me a sweet smile.

Wariness sets me on edge, unsure if Connor means to flirt. He must notice the shift in me based on the way he coughs before laughing.

“Oh, no. Please don’t take my willingness as anything but an extension of good faith. I truly want Jax to perform his best, and I have a feeling you’re one of the few people who could help him. I’m willing to give you anything you need to keep him at the top of his game.”

“Well, this is something I think can be useful for both teammates, actually.” Sorry, Elías. Please forgive me, but you need someone to talk to as well.

“Spit it out. Your obvious hesitation is choking me here.”

“Okay, well, I did some research about athletes and performing under stress. I think the guys could benefit from speaking to a psychologist who specializes in sports. I found a few and compiled a list of those willing to travel with McCoy’s team.”

“Why do they need a psychologist?”

“We both know Jax struggles with anxiety, and with Elías being new to the team, it wouldn’t hurt for him to talk to someone too.”

Connor rubs his chin. “And anything said in these sessions remains confidential?”

“That’s the psychologist’s job. I think it could help both guys and make a difference with managing stress and performance fears.”

Jax needs all the help he can get, and as confident as I am with my skills, I can’t compare to a mental health professional. Something in my chest tightens at the reminder of his conversation in the bathroom. There is something seriously getting in the way of him achieving what he’s capable of, and maybe talking to someone can help.

I’m willing to try anything to help him manage his anxiety.

“Done. Whatever you need is yours.” Connor looks at me and smiles.

“I’m going to need you to somehow convince Jax it’s a part of his contract. I doubt he’d go to these sessions willingly.”

“He’ll do what I say. Give me a week to get the contract with the psychologist settled. I assume you’ll email me the list of potential ones,” Connor says with an authority I haven’t seen in him yet.

“Yes, sure.” I lick my lips. “I have one last favor.”

Connor sighs. “Why do I feel like this is one I’m going to regret?”

“Sorry.” I cringe. “Can you please pretend you’re the one who came up with this? Jax will hate me if he found out I forced a psychologist on him.”

“He won’t hate you.”