Free Game, Set, Match (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (Love Match) by Nana Malone

quiet. Aaron pulled out Jason’s exercise report. “Is that all you have to say?”
    Shit.
    “I wish I knew what you wanted to hear, man.” His heart rate monitor beeped at him, and he slowed his pace.
    “How about the truth? How bad is your knee, Jason?”
    “Not that bad. I’m recovering.”
    “Is that why Brian recommends a full physical analysis in two months before he clears you to play?”
    Shit . Brian had no right. “What the hell does he know? The guy’s a blowhard. I have no intention of waiting two months before I get the all clear.”
    “Damn it, Jase. Do I need to remind you that you selected this trainer? Plucked him out of obscurity from your alma mater? You’re not going to find anyone this good in such a short timeframe.” He slapped the folder on the neighboring treadmill. “This is the kind of shit you’re supposed to tell me about. You can’t keep looking me in the eye and telling me you’re fine. If your knee’s done, then I need to know that so I can restructure your career.”
    Jason continued to walk at a steady pace on the incline, ignoring the throb in his knee.   Tread lightly . He surveyed Aaron’s bloodshot eyes and disheveled suit before checking the wall clock. Eight in the morning. If he knew his friend, he was out past his bedtime so it might as well be dawn. “Look, don’t listen to that idiot. Get rid of him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. How about you have a little faith and let me worry about my knee? You just worry about getting me in as a wildcard in a couple of matches in the next few months. I’ll be ready.” Jason flashed his all will be well smile at his manager.
    “You can’t fire him because he’s telling you something you don’t like. When are you going to learn that you can’t charm and bullshit your way out of everything? Your career is serious. We need to figure something out if this trainer isn’t working.”
    Jason wiped his arms off then ditched his heavy towel, using his forearm to swipe away sweat from his forehead. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not trying to charm or BS my way out of anything. I’ll be ready. On my own if I have to. Don’t fire him, but you better tell him I’ll be damned if I’ll listen to some bullshit about not being able to do this. Even if you don’t believe it, I do. Even if fucking Brian doesn’t believe.”
    Aaron wiped a hand across his shadowy stubble. “Okay, look. I get it. You want your shot at a comeback. You’re getting ready for a run on your old title.” He placed both hands on the side rail of the treadmill. “You might not want to listen to Brian, but if you do some serious shit to yourself, and we’re not prepared, you’re fucked. No title, no more shots at a title. And, if we don’t clean up your rep, no cushy broadcasting job, no training camp for the aspiring kiddies. None of it. Is that what you want?”
    Jason leveled his gaze at Aaron. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, reminding himself that Aaron wasn’t the enemy. “I hear you, but get Brian off my case. If I wanted doubters in my camp, I’d have kept Michaels around.”

Chapter Seven
     
    “I will see Izzy, if I have to physically remove you to do it.”
    Izzy’s head snapped up from her light table at the commotion from the reception office.
    “Over my dead body, Simple Simon. She’s working her tail off to try and complete the impossible, thanks to your poor planning. You can’t interrupt her.”
    A crash exploded down the hallway followed by colorful expletives from both Simon and Jessica.
    “I’m her fucking manager. I know what’s best for her career.”
    “Oh, remove that fucking stick up your ass, you pompous douche bag.” Jessica’s shrill voice echoed off of the reception walls.
    “Tsk, tsk. How would your freak of a boyfriend feel about your language, Jessica?” Simon’s voice chilled the air.
    As Izzy rushed out of her office, her heart slammed against her ribs. Voices grew