My chest tightens, but I steel my resolve. Ollie doesn’t need my pity; he needs my professional guidance.
“Ollie.” I meet his eyes. “That’s a lot to handle. Anyone would feel overwhelmed in your position.”
It’s a wonder he’s been able to keep it together this long. The physical and emotional toll must be staggering, and yet he’s been keeping at all bottled up inside.
How is he even functioning?
I’d probably be curled up in a blanket fort eating my feelings.
“I can’t afford to be overwhelmed.” He shoves his fingers through his hair, pushing the loose strands off his forehead. “I need to find a way to fix it.”
“You need to talk to Coach,” I say firmly. “Take some time off. Focus on your family and your health.”
“I can’t do that.” He shakes his head vehemently. “The team is starting to win games. People are counting on me.”
“Coach will understand. So will your teammates. Your family and your health come first, Ollie. Always.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue either, so I’m calling it a win.
We spend the next twenty minutes walking through a series of visualization techniques. We focus on grounding exercises to manage stress and mental imagery to process his emotions.
By the time we’re done, some of the tension has eased from his shoulders.
“My door is always open,” I remind him as we wrap up. “Let’s meet again next week, okay?”
He nods and stands to leave.
“Ollie? You should consider talking to Dr. Banks. As the team psychiatrist, he might be able to—”
“No way.” His response is sharp and firm. “I tried that before. Banks doesn’t listen, and he thinks there’s a prescription for every problem. I don’t want to go down that road.”
My stomach sinks, but I force a smile. “Okay. That’s your choice. But I hope you’ll give it some more thought.”
After he leaves, I sit at my desk for a long moment, staring at the crumpled note.
Then I pick up my phone and dial Banks.
The line rings twice before his assistant picks up.
“Dr. Banks’s office, this is Judy.”
The unwitting scapegoat for her boss’s bad behavior.
It’s not her fault, and I have more important things to worry about, so I press on.
“Hi, Judy. It’s Ava Washington. Is Dr. Banks available?”
“Let me check. One moment, please.”
I swear to god if that jerk says he’s too busy to talk to me, I’ll…
Well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t benice.
The hold music is some kind of smooth jazz that’s probably supposed to help me relax, but I’m too wired for it to be effective. I tap my fingers on the desk blotter, mentally rehearsing what I’m going to say.
There’s a quiet beep, and Banks comes on the line. “Ms. Washington.”
He sounds aggrieved, but that’s his default setting when dealing with me, so I ignore it.