She repositioned her leg and winced.

“Dammit,” she hissed. Mental toughness only went so far. Three days later and this still hurt like a bitch.

After being fitted with a plastic ankle brace in the ER, she had insisted that she was capable of taking care of herself, but neither Samiah nor London would hear of it. Instead of driving Taylor to her apartment, Samiah had brought her to her condo.

Thank goodness for stubborn friends. Samiah’s help had been a godsend over these last few days. Of course, it didn’t matter where Taylor was physically—whether holed up in this apartment or her own, she still had far too much time to dwell on the seriousness of what she now faced.

She had banked her entire future on being able to make a living teaching people how to live healthy, fulfilling lives. She had never, not once, anticipated what would happen if she couldn’t do this job.

She hadn’t considered herself lucky as she rolled around in pain on that rubber floor, but Taylor now recognized just how fortunate she’d been to have only suffered a grade 1 sprain. She could have easily broken her ankle and been dealt a prognosis a million times worse than simply staying off her feet for the next couple of weeks. Her injury had forced her to ask a question she had only allowed to live in the very far-off corners of her mind.

How would she support herself if she could not work as a fitness instructor?

“Stop being an ableist dick,” Taylor muttered.

There were double-amputee fitness instructors who could kick her ass in the gym. She could still do this job even if her ankle never healed, but this still brought home the danger of having all her eggs in one basket.

Taylor’s breath hitched, panic overwhelming her as she accepted that she had no plan. She had zero fallback options. The few things she’d done in the past, like driving for ride-share services or scoring the occasional meal prep job, weren’t enough to sustain her. Her recent brush with the possibility of having to sleep in her car was suddenly all too real.

She swiped at the stupid tear that rolled down her cheek.

God, she hated this crushing sense of helplessness. She wasn’t helpless, dammit. She had options; she was just too damn afraid to explore the one alternative that was a surefire way to improve her prospects.

“Shit,” Taylor cursed, angrily wiping her cheeks.

If there was one thing the Colonel had taught his children, it was that you never allowed fear to get the best of you. But fear had made Taylor its bitch these past few months. Even now, the thought of taking the college entrance exam stole the breath from her lungs. Yet, it was nothing compared to the sheer terror of finding herself without a viable way to make a living.