by Layne Harper
He is about to say something when another player that I recognize walks toward us. The guy is clearly checking me out. “Colin, my man, who is the lovely lady with you? Maybe you should introduce us.”
Colin is obviously annoyed. “JT Reynolds, this is Charlie Collins.”
I stick my hand out. “Hello JT. I am Doctor Caroline Collins. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person. I am a big fan,” I gush.
“You are a doctor?” He’s surprised. “I’ve never had a doctor that is this hot. If so, I might go more often,” he says with a laugh.
I reach in my small purse and pull out my business card. “I’m an orthopedic surgeon who specializes in sports related injuries. I’ve seen the way that you play. You might want to keep my card.” I flash him my biggest smile.
“I wouldn’t think of losing it,” he flirts.
I can feel the heat radiating off Colin. “If you’ll excuse us one minute, JT. Charlie and I were just finishing up a conversation.”
“I’ll see you around Doctor Charlie,” JT says, winking at me.
Colin grabs my arm and drags me to a corner by the windows where there isn’t anyone else milling around. I am speechless. I am not sure what I’ve done to make him this angry, but he is seething.
“Stay away from JT,” he warns. “He’s a womanizer. He’s slept his way through cheerleaders, players’ girlfriends, and some of their wives.”
“I don’t care,” I spat. “Does he have bones and muscles? Then he could use me.” Colin is towering over me. His 6’5” body is staring down at my 5’7” frame. “Why is it your business, anyway?”
“You were practically throwing yourself at him Charlie. I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he says. Is there jealousy in his eyes? I’m not sure.
“Look Colin,” I say as I break our staring contest. “I’m here because my dad asked me to come. Clay was an important patient of our practice, as he will tell anyone.” Then in a softer tone, I add, “It’s been a long time. We have a lot of murky water under our bridge. I’m glad that we’ve seen each other again. Maybe it will be less awkward next time we run into each other. Let’s just get through the weekend being civil to each other.”
Someone else approaches trying to get Colin’s attention. I use that distraction to walk away. I can feel his eyes watching me until I exit the reception room. I need to use the restroom and clear my head.
I quickly message Brad and Rachael.
Me: Colin.Fucking.McKinney. He’s here. Still just as gorgeous and maddening.
I put some lip-gloss on and pinch my cheeks. I don’t know what to make of his jealousy. I wish that I had time to call Brad or Rachael and analyze the conversation, but I have to get back to the reception.
I walk back into the other room and quickly realize that he is gone. I briefly wonder if he left because of me. I am a little disappointed but also relieved. At least now I can focus on what I came here to do which is network for our practice. I spot my dad and beeline for him.
He greets me, “Hello, Caroline. I was just looking for you…” He continues to introduce me around the room. My dad seems to know just about everyone. Either he’s treated the majority of players at the reception, or he knows them through his philanthropic work focused on preventing spinal cord injuries in youth. I didn’t quite realize how well connected my dad is.
After the reception is over, my dad says that Clay called and invited us to come to his home for dinner tonight. He said that he accepted without asking me, but he offers to call back and decline on my behalf if I wish to do something else. I quickly shake my head no. I am looking forward to meeting Clay and his family. I’ve certainly heard enough about them through the years.
My dad and I walk outside and are greeted by the cool Los Angeles evening. I wish that I had run back up to my room and grabbed a jacket. My sleeveless lavender dress is not even close to keeping me warm. Just as I am contemplating waiting in the lobby for our town car, two very big hands grab my upper arms. I would know those hands anywhere. They belong to Colin. He begins to run his hands up and down my arms. It takes all my willpower not to lean back into his chest. My whole body floods with warmth. God, I love his touch. I realize in that second that no other person’s touch has affected me even a tenth as much as his does. Once again, I am so thankful that Brad packed for me.
“Are you going to Clay’s home?” my father asks.
“Yes. I just got the invite. You?” he replies with a knowing chuckle.
“Yes. He invited us also. Would you be opposed to sharing a car?” my dad says.
“Dad, maybe it would be better if we took separate cars. Colin might want to stay later than us. We’re a bit jet lagged,” I argue. I can feel Colin’s grip tighten on my arms.
“Charlie, if I want to stay later, I’ll call a cab,” Colin says, raising his voice just slightly. I know that tone. It’s the “don’t mess with me” voice that I had heard frequently when we were together.
“There. It’s settled,” my dad says.
When our town car arrives, Colin removes his hands from my arms. I immediately long for his touch again. I love how his touch makes me feel. But, it does give me a chance to see him. He’s changed into a pair of jeans that fit him nicely, a black T-shirt, and camel colored sports coat. He looks ravishing. I also note that he could have offered me his jacket, but he chose to rub my arms instead. He chose to touch me. That means something, right?
My dad offers Colin the front seat, but he politely declines. I slide in the back of the car and let out a laugh when I see all 6’5” of Colin fold himself into the back. As the door shuts, I can feel my body heat. His long leg falls dangerously close to mine. Did he do that on purpose? My body remembers how good he felt, and it is trying to convince my mind to let me move closer to him.
My father gives the driver the address. The driver says that it is approximately a thirty-minute drive. My mind starts racing. Can I take thirty minutes in the car with him? What are we supposed to talk about? I can’t see making idle chitchat with the man who broke my heart so many years ago in front of my father knowing that Colin must feel some sort of bitterness toward him.
My dad says, “Colin, how do you know Clay besides the obvious football connection?”
“He was actually a mentor to me of sorts. My second year playing professional ball was hard. I was dealing with a lot of personal turmoil,” he says, shooting me a look. “Clay helped me put things in perspective and focus on my career. I’m the one that referred him to you Doctor Collins,” he confirms.
“Well, I certainly appreciate the referral. He became a good friend of mine. I obviously respect him a lot,” my dad concludes.
We are back to silence. “Personal turmoil, huh?” I contemplate the meaning behind those words. The look Colin gave me obviously means our break up. I get a little bit of satisfaction from knowing that it was hard on him also.
I shift in my seat moving a fraction of an inch closer to him. When I glance at him, he is staring at me with a look on his face that makes me gasp. He is obviously checking me out.
He mouths, “You are still so beautiful.”
My eyes open wide. I feel my face heat up, I mouth back, “Thank you.”
He then moves a fraction of an inch toward me. I have a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. None of them are appropriate conversations to have in front of my father.
Fortunately, my dad and Colin start discussing football so I can be alone with my mind. I wonder if he can feel the electricity passing between us. I look down half expecting myself to be vibrating. We have a complex shared history. I am remembering what it felt like to be in love with him and be loved that much in return. I remind myself that our shared history was eight years ago. I was a college kid. He was trying to figure out who he was professionally, and personally for that matter. What we had was great, but he overwhelmed me and I bolted for Boston. I reason with myself that we can’t change our past.
We hit a bump which jolts me out o
f my head. I feel myself slide even closer to him. I long to reach out and run my hand up his thigh. I always loved how strong his legs were. I liked the feel of his incredibly hard muscles under his soft, silky leg hair. I want to touch him so badly, but I don’t.
“Charlie,” he says, “how long have you been practicing with your dad?”
“Umm… I guess over two years now,” I reply, snapping out of my daydream. That was a safe question for the car. Good job Colin. I mentally applaud him.
“I’ve heard Boston is nice in May,” he says.
What a strange thing to say. “Sure. Boston is a great city,” I reply.
“I happen to have been in Boston in May about six years ago. It rained like crazy.” He shoots me that look again.
He is obviously trying to tell me something. Suddenly it hits me like a Mack truck. I graduated in May six years ago, and although it didn’t rain during our graduation ceremony, it rained very hard the rest of the day.
I look at him in complete shock. I mouth at him, “What?”
“I was in town seeing an old friend.” He continues out loud, “Unfortunately, she wasn’t available so now I always think of Boston in May as a miserable time to visit. However, I’ve been told that it is usually fantastic weather.”
I am blown away. He just admitted to me in a car with my father that he was at my medical school graduation. How can I ask why he didn’t say hello in a way that doesn’t tip my dad off to how awkward I feel?
God bless my father, he says, “Caroline, Boston usually has great weather in May, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Dad. It does,” I reply.
However, I am not letting Colin off the hook this easily. “Why wasn’t she available? Did you not plan ahead and call her and let her know that you were coming?”
I am studying his face very carefully. He is shocked that I picked up the ball he dropped and ran with it. “Her phone number must have been out of order,” he says very matter of factly.
I know that he didn’t call me. I purposely have had the same phone number since college. I’m really getting angry. How dare he come to my medical school graduation ceremony and not say hello to me? It feels stalkerish, and I don’t like it. I open my mouth to respond to his statement when I see the pleading look on his face.
“Please drop it,” he mouths. “I’m sorry.”
I lean back against the car seat and close my eyes trying to process what he’d just said. Did he come to get closure? Was he stalking me to see if I had a boyfriend? Why didn’t he say hello? I am beyond curious.
When we get to Clay’s beautiful home in the hills overlooking Hollywood, I practically bolt out of the car. The air in the car is thick with unsaid emotions and lots of questions. The cool night air snaps me back to reality. I need to keep my cool and not embarrass my father, or myself, in front of his friend and most important patient.
Unfortunately, I have to walk around the car and Colin stalls enough so that he is next to me. He gently puts his hand on my back as if he is politely letting me go in front of him.
His hand practically sears me. The touch is unexpected and my body screams for more. He whispers in my ear, “If you say that you don’t feel it, you’re a liar.”
I let out a gentle breath of air that I didn’t realize I was holding.
I nodded my head in agreement.
“Clay is going to love meeting you,” he says with a chuckle.
Chapter 3
WE’RE GREETED by a loud, booming voice that matches the man. Clay South looks like a grizzly bear with a voice that is almost a roar. He is in his late thirties and built like a brick house. His dark brown skin, chocolate eyes, and physique make a truly imposing figure. I like him instantly.
He greets Colin first. “My man, it is you! You are fucking fantastic, you crazy motherfucker.” Colin hugs Clay and slaps him on the back.
He is a little more reserved toward my father. “Doctor Collins, the best doctor in the world. Thank you for coming. I’m just so glad that I get to see you out of your office,” he says, hugging my father.
Then, to my surprise, he greets me. “Doctor Collins, you are just as magnificent as I imagined. I’m Clay South, star patient of your father’s and best friend to your… well… Colin,” he says, giving Colin a knowing smile.
Apparently, my reputation has preceded me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. South. I’m honored to be included in your special weekend,” I say in my politest voice.
“Call me Clay. Now, come in because the food is almost ready, and my house smells so damn good that I might eat it,” he says laughing.
I follow my dad and Colin in the front door. The house is huge. The foyer alone is the size of my living room, kitchen, and dining room combined. We follow Clay into the kitchen where there is a kitchen table that seats twelve people. I meet his lovely wife, Janis, and his four children who are particularly well behaved. They obviously know Colin very well and start climbing on him like he’s a jungle gym. Clay’s only little girl, who is about four, starts asking Colin where her guitar is. Colin flashes Clay a smile and says, “Uncle Colin will buy you a guitar this weekend, baby girl.”
Clay and Janis have a look of horror on their faces. “Buy her one and you are no longer her Godfather,” Clay says without a hint of seriousness in his voice.
I sit back and watch the dynamic of this family. Colin is playing with the kids and bantering with Clay. Janis and my father are engaged in a conversation near the stove. I am a casual observer of the motley crew. I was expecting more people to be here. It appears that Colin, my dad, and me are the only guests. I’m pondering what this all means, when Clay says, “Kids, let Uncle Colin up. He still has to throw a football in a couple of months. Colin, why don’t you show Charlie my trophy room?” he says, giving Colin a wink.
“Clay, I go by Caroline. Charlie is a name that I haven’t used for a long time,” I say, smiling. Colin must have really shared some scoop about us.
They both ignore the comment about my name change.
“Clay, you are such an asshole. You are going to rub in all of your accomplishments, aren’t you?” Colin teases back.
“Uncle Colin, not in front of the babies’ delicate ears,” Clay responds in mock horror.
Colin rolls his eyes and turns to me. “Follow me. I’ll show you Clay’s brag room,” he says, offering me his hand.
He wraps his big hand around mine. I feel my fingers squeeze his hand before I can stop myself. I love how his huge hand engulfs mine. It makes me feel safe and protected. He leads me from the kitchen, through the foyer, and up the stairs. I don’t allow myself to think about the electricity that is traveling between us.
While we are walking up the winding staircase, Colin says, “You know that this whole evening was orchestrated by Clay to get us together.”
“There is obviously a lot going on that I don’t know about,” I say to Colin.
He walks me to the end of hall to a set of double doors. He opens one of the doors and holds it for me to enter. We have to break hands. It makes me feel a little lost. I want his hand back.
A pool table dominates the center of the room. There are jerseys, memorabilia, awards, and pictures decorating three of the walls. It takes just a quick second to see that Clay has had one hell of a career, but what fascinates me the most is the fourth wall. It is filled with pictures of his kids, wife, friends, and extended family. There are pictures drawn on construction paper wishing Daddy good luck. There is a picture of Clay kissing his wife and holding one of his sons while confetti falls around them. There is a framed letter that one of his kids wrote Clay telling him how proud he was of his daddy. It’s really something special.
I turn around and see Colin watching me take it all in. I walk to the family wall and look closer at the child’s letter and special drawings. I realize in an overwhelming wave of emotion that this is what every person should want most in their life. I could have three walls covered in my professional and athletic accom
plishments, but my fourth wall, the personal accomplishment wall, would be blank. I’ve never seen such an obvious visual display of finding life balance than this.
“Clay says that when he shows this trophy room to friends, if they aren’t drawn to the family wall first, then he knows what kind of people they really are,” Colin says from behind me. He reaches up and puts his right hand on my shoulder.
I see a picture of Colin and Clay together. Colin is holding a little pink blanket, with just a hint of a newborn face peeking out. Colin and Clay both have bloodshot eyes.
He notices me looking at that picture. “I was at the hospital when Janis had Marley. Clay wanted a little girl so badly. Janis had given him one more try.” Colin laughs. “Clay was a man on a mission to get a baby girl. He read books on how to have a girl. He met with a couple of different doctors to see if there was some trick to getting a girl.”
I laugh. I had a couple of friends from medical school who went into gynecology. They said that they had tons of patients obsessed with getting one gender over the other.
“We didn’t know if Marley was going to be a boy or a girl. Clay couldn’t find out. He knew that he would be disappointed if it was another boy before he met him. So he waited to find out because he knew when the baby was born, he would be crazy in love no matter what the sex. Janis asked me to be there if possible to support Clay. I saw Clay win the Super Bowl. The birth of Marley made his first championship moment look like nothing. I’m Marley’s Godfather, and apparently, I am buying her a guitar soon,” he says, smiling at the memory.
“I’m glad that you became friends with Clay. He seems like a really good man,” I reply.
“Without Clay, I don’t know if I would have continued playing football. You leaving me… Well, it fucked my world, Charlie,” he says with angst in his voice at reliving that moment.
“Colin, we left each other,” I say, turning around to look at him. “We left each other. Let’s go back downstairs and enjoy this evening with an obviously great man. We should talk about this at a later time.”
