Ridley Holland has just lost the love of her life. She has no desire to return to the world of motocross, but she knows Teuvo would want her to continue. So she plays the part: an upcoming professional athlete with inevitable determination to domina...
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Jacks
When I saw Ridley's profile, I knew I had to take the job. She's on the brink of breaking records, qualifying for national competitions, contracts with elite sponsors—a coach couldn't ask for a more seasoned rider.
Little did I know there would be conflict on the first day.
As soon as the trailer door slams shut, I turn back to Martin. He's pinching the bridge of his nose, wearing a frustrated expression. "You piss her off."
It's more of an observation than a statement, but it rubs Martin the wrong way. He points aggressively at me. "Give that bitch an inch, and she'll take a mile."
I'm fairly certain that's not how the saying goes (regarding the use of bitch), but I bite my tongue. It's clear Martin has strong opinions against women. Especially women who stand up for themselves.
"Cut her some slack," I say, keeping my voice cautious. "She's returning to the track after a fatal accident. Experiencing the death of a fellow rider isn't normal, Martin. Easing Ridley back into this world isn't something that should be pushed to the side. If we overwork her or trigger her, things will not go well. We need to comply with her needs and wants."
Martin waves off my comment. "Women exaggerate their stories. I doubt the accident was as traumatizing as she's implied. Besides, she wants to get back on the track." He throws his hands up. "Why else would she be here?"
The heel of my hand rubs against my cheek, and I do my best to not release an exasperated sigh. "Yes, she wants to return to the track. You're correct there. But you're diving into this headfirst when we need to tread water."
Martin's expression makes me clench my fists beneath the table. He's the definition of indifferent. Misogynistic. Problematic. Typical white boy, small-dick energy.
Why the fuck is Ridley on this team? Why did I accept this job? I'm a licensed psychologist, and I chose to endure a daily battle with misogyny?
Martin steeples his fingers beneath his chin. "Treading doesn't lead to victories." He gestures to the wall, where there are several pictures of Ridley and Teuvo. A small ache forms in my chest. Losing a rider is never easy. "Treading didn't make them the best competition in the province. What she needs to do is forget the past and win these competitions again."
Seems like Ridley's comments about profit weren't far off. All he cares about is money and his name's legacy. Which doesn't bode well for Ridley. Although we haven't had a one-on-one session yet, I can tell she's distancing herself from people. Several symptoms have already popped up: reduced expression of emotion, avoidance of people and activities, and inability to make eye contact that holds sustenance. Anger.
I could recite all these textbook-worthy symptoms, but you can't change the minds of ignorant people. Instead, I divert the conversation elsewhere. "Treading is how people learn to swim. Over the next couple of weeks, I'll ease Ridley back into it. She'll be your star rider again."
