Noah’s pov The first week in Atlanta was the hardest, healing was a relentless cycle; lift your arm, hold it , drop it … a continuous cycle, again and again .At first, I hated every single second of it.I’d spent my entire youth lifting heavy, running sprints until my lungs burned, and throwing forty-yard spirals on the money. Now? My physical therapist, a sharp woman named Karen who didn't take an ounce of my attitude, had me sitting on a foam bench trying to lift a two-pound rubber ball using only my right shoulder.My arm wouldn't even budge. It just trembled, locked in place like the signal had been completely cut off from my brain. It was embarrassing. It made my chest burn with a frustration that made me want to kick the equipment across the room."You're fighting it, Noah," Karen said one Tuesday morning, setting her clipboard down after watching me strain until my face turned red."It's two pounds, Karen," I grunted, my teeth clenched so tight my jaw hurt. "I used to bench
Last Updated : 2026-07-25 Read more