Page 7 of Undeniable

“In the meantime,” Clay continued. “You’re to continue with physical therapy. And you’ll meet with the company therapist, Tatum, twice a week.”

“Twice a week?” I gaped at him.

“Nonnegotiable,” Wyatt said, arms crossed over his chest.

I was still absorbing that information when Clay said, “We’d also like you to participate in a new initiative—Spines for Soldiers.”

Spines for Soldiers?Was this some sort of back injury program? If so, why was he telling me about it? I’d injured my knee, not my spine.

“Igloo Books has a new goal to bring quality reading material to the men and women who serve our country.” It sounded like he was reading from a script, and I couldn’t help but laugh for the first time in weeks. It wassonot Clay.

“You okay there, Pigeon? You sound very…robotic.”

“You won’t be laughing in a minute,” Wyatt said. “Violet nominated you.”

Violet?As in Violet Hudson, wife of Maverick Hudson, the founder and head of Hudson Security?

I glanced between them, wondering if they were shitting me. But Clay continued talking. “Here’s a quick overview of the program.” He handed me a printout. “You’ll receive more information by email.”

I scanned the page. Current and former military were paired with civilian reading buddies to compare notes via email. The first book had been chosen for us, but after that, we could select which books we’d like to read from the Igloo catalog. I’d have minimal details about my reading partner and was expected to communicate only through the designated email I’d been assigned.

There was more—details about reading ten books to complete the program. but I wasn’t interested. I set the paper back on his desk.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not interested in some pen pal, buddy reading program.”

It was bad enough that I was going to have to dissect my feelings with a therapist. But I figured I could show up, do the bare minimum, and leave.

Clay leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. “It wasn’t a request. That should’ve been clear from the fact that it’s a direct order from the top.”

What a fucking joke.

I stood, grimacing when my knee protested the sudden movement. “I’m fine,” I ground out, grabbing my cane. Clay gave my bum knee a pointed glance. “I will be. As soon as this heals.”

“You want back in the field? Attend therapy and complete this program. In the meantime, think of this as mental training. A chance to read on company time. But make no mistake about it—this is mandatory.”

I blew out a breath but held my tongue.Thiswas fucking bullshit.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

I wasn’t going to win any awards by arguing with my boss. These guys didn’t mess around when it came to mental health.

“Yes, sir.”

“Here’s the first book.” He slid a paperback across the desk.

“Great,” I deadpanned, not even looking at the cover.

“You’ll receive an email with the program guidelines as well as tips to maximize your experience.”

I nearly barked out a laugh. Ha! Like I was going to enjoy this “experience” or my mandatory therapy.

Clay returned his attention to his computer, ignoring me when I readjusted my cane. Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest, a stern expression on his face. Apparently, the conversation was over, and there was no use protesting. I huffed and swiped the book from the desk, tucking it beneath my arm.

If I wasn’t careful, I’d be sitting on the sidelines, reading books indefinitely.

Once I was out in the hall, I leaned against the wall, grateful for the pretext to stop and rest. I glanced both ways, making sure no one was around before wiping my forehead with the hem of my shirt. The pain was making me sweat, and I didn’t want to let on how bad it was.

I scanned the dust jacket of the book—something about Alaska and love and loss. I frowned down at it. The only things I’d read in the past decade were tech manuals or ops specs, not…whatever the hell this was.

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