“I don’t want your appreciation. I want your ass at that training facility so you can show these scouts you’re ready to play. For weeks you’ve been talking about all the work you’re putting in, how you’ve been training for hours and hours every day. Was that all bullshit?”

“No!” Jamar sat up in his chair and glared at the screen. “I’ve been busting my ass in that gym. I’ve worked harder for this than I’ve ever worked in my life.”

“So why the hell do you want me to call this workout off just days before it’s supposed to happen? I have reps from a half-dozen teams—teams I had to convince to come here because no one believes you’re ready to play ball. I promised them that this wasn’t going to be a waste of their time. I put my reputation on the line for this, Jamar. Not just my reputation, but Hill Sports Management’s.”

As he listened to Micah rant, Jamar fiddled with the face mask on the mini Longhorns football helmet he kept on his desk, anything to avoid looking at the computer screen and the disappointment he knew he’d find staring back at him.

“I know you have a lot riding on this too,” Jamar said, swallowing past the thick layer of guilt coating his throat.

“Yeah, I do. Which is why I deserve an explanation,” Micah said. “What’s behind this change of heart? How’d you go from being willing to put everything you had into returning to the League to all of a sudden backing out? I thought this is what you wanted?”

“I did,” Jamar said. “You know I want this.” He paused before spilling the truth. “I just don’t think my knee will be able to hold up.”

“You said it was strong—”

“I know what I said. I thought it was, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

“I expected more from you,” Micah said. “You’ve always been straight with me, Jamar. When you say you’re going to do something, you do it. Have you thought about how this will look once the rest of the football world finds out about it? They’re going to think you chickened out.”

Jamar sat up. “How would it get out? I told you to have the teams sign an NDA.”

“A nondisclosure doesn’t mean shit in the age of Twitter. Do you think this story won’t leak like a fucking sieve if I have to go back and tell these scouts ‘Oh, never mind, he’s decided he’s not up to playing after all.’ Give me a fucking break, Jamar! You know how this business works!”

He did know, which was why he went to such lengths to keep his plans a secret. This is exactly what he’d feared would happen.