Whatever Happens

by Lyla Grace

  I trot over to Gabe and shake his hand.

  “New workout partner?” Gabe asks when I finally reach him.

  I look back at Lexie. She’s standing with arms folded across her chest, foot tapping. “Therapist,” I reply.

  His voice lowers to a whisper. "Is she the girl from the video?" he asks.

  “No. No. That, uh…” Fuck, what do I tell him? I hate lying, especially to a good guy like Gabe. So, I opt to go with the truth. “That was just some random girl I picked up at the bar.”

  I mean, it is the truth. Lexie was just some random girl until I found out who she was that is.

  "Too bad, because your trainer is fine as hell," Gabe tells me as if I don't already know. "You are one lucky guy."

  Lucky? Is he fucking joking? I am about as far from lucky as they get lately. I scrub my hand over my face. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to thank you for keeping the place locked down while I’m here, but you can resume business as usual. I’m going to be heading back home for a while.”

  “Is it because of that video? Man, we all fuck up once in a while.”

  "Yeah, but not everyone has their fuck-ups plastered all over the internet." I shake his hand again. "Thanks again, man, I'll see you in a few weeks."

  “No problem, just uh – make sure next time you bring in someone that looks like that, you bring one for me too.”

  “You got it,” I say with a laugh before I head back over to Lexie.

  "Can we get started now?" she asks with so much attitude that I can see shades of the girl that I first thought she was when I met her.

  I walk over to the chest press machine. “Carter—”

  “Don’t,” I stop her.

  "No, you don't. Doing that is a stupid risk. Any progress you have made could go out the window with one false move," Lexie says, her voice stern and adamant.

  “I don’t take orders from you,” I snap.

  She folds her arms across her chest. “I’m your therapist, so yeah, you do.”

  “You’re my therapist, not my mother. Get out of the way, Lex.”

  “Fine, Big Shot. Have at it.”

  She steps away from the machine allowing me access despite not wanting to. I pull the pin and set the machine to ten pounds. I had been doing pretty well with five for the past week; jumping to ten shouldn't be an issue. I push. One. Okay, that's not too bad. I push again. Two. Damn, who knew ten pounds could feel so heavy. I push forward again. Fuck. I cry out.

  Lexie reacts instantly and grabs the machine handles from me. I drop my arm. She slowly lets down the weight and kneels in front of me. My head hangs, the pain severe, but not the worst I've felt — the fucking accident.

  She says my name. "Move," I order her. She repeats it. "Move," I shout.

  She hurries out of my way. I stand up and stalk off, the pain in my shoulder building.

  The whole way to the locker room I curse Cody. Stupid motherfucker and that stupid accident. If only he would have told me he was high, that he had fallen off the wagon. I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have met Lexie, and I sure as hell wouldn't be fucking hurting physically and emotionally. One night set off a terrible chain of events. All of which turned my life into a fucking mess. Fucking Cody.

  Once in the locker room, I take the arm that isn't injured and punch the locker out of anger. "Fuck," I shout out.

  Stupid fucking move, Wallace, I tell myself. Not only does my shoulder hurt now, but my hand is also killing me.

  I can feel her presence before I even hear the door close behind her. “Go away.”

  “Are you okay?” Lexie asks.

  “Fucking fantastic,” I shout.

  “Let me look,” she says.

  Her hand touches my shoulder, and I whip around to face her. "What didn't you understand about what I said? Go. Away.”

  "I'm your trainer. I need to…"

  “You’re nothing to me. Do you hear me? Nothing.” I’m still shouting at her.

  The once confident woman seems to break a little as I notice tears welling in her eyes.

  "You… You don't mean that" she says.

  She's right; I don't. I want her hands on me; I want her lips to make the pain go away — more than anything I don't want her to have lied to me. Everyone I care about seems to fuck me over, and I just can't take this shit.

  “Please let me help,” she says. Her voice is somber but resolved. She’s speaking as my trainer, not my girlfriend. But the tears in her eyes tell me otherwise because somehow I doubt if Green or Rodriguez jumped on her the way I just did, she would give them shit right back. “I just want to make sure you are okay.”

  I just want to be okay.

  As much as I don’t want to, the pain radiating down my arm tells me that I need to sit and more importantly need to let her look at it.

  "I don't want to hear an I told you so," I tell her.

  “Good, because I wasn’t going to say that.” Her fingers run across my back to my bad shoulder.

  “Don’t,” I warn her.

  She doesn't listen, though. Her hand gently runs over my shoulder, her fingers exploring. The gentle pressure she's applying feels good.

  “How’s that?” she asks.

  “Better,” I admit. It’s still painful, but the severity has decreased significantly. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you.”

  “No apology needed. But, yes, you should have.”

  She continues to massage my arm, the more her hands are on me, the less the pain. I’m not sure if it’s easing the physical or the mental, but either is fine with me. “I’m sorry for what I said, too.”

  I turn and face her. When I do, she’s standing between my legs. Instinct, desire – one of the two – takes over and my hand reaches for her thigh caressing it as I rest my head against her stomach. She places her hands on my head, gently playing with my hair.

  Right. Everything with Lexie always feels right. Even though knowing the truth now, I know it couldn't be more wrong.

  We stay like this for a few minutes before she steps back. “We should probably hit the road. I don’t want to do anything to your arm until the pain subsides more.”

  “Lexie…”

  I reach for her, but she walks away. Just like I’ve been doing to her since I found out who she is.

  It's for the best. Realistically, we can't be together. But the way my heart aches right now, it doesn't feel like it's for the best.

  Chapter 8 – Lexie

  Not that I expected anything different, but we've been driving for an hour and a half already, and we haven't spoken one word the entire time. I have managed to steal a few glances in Carter's direction, though. Each time I do, he looks more stressed than the last. I don't blame him. The poor guy has had so much thrown at him in such a short amount of time.

  I'm thankful that the pain has subsided. I was afraid he had seriously hurt himself, but since he seems okay now, I don't think it's anything we shouldn't be able to get under control. That is if I can get him to listen to me and take me seriously for five minutes. I hold in my groan as my thoughts lead me to this morning in the locker room, his hands on my thighs, his head resting on my stomach. There was nothing sexually charged about the moment, yet it was still so intense. Both of us seemingly desperate for comfort and affection, as if consoling the other for the loss of us.

  It’s a possibility that was never a probability.

  My Dad is Carter's coach. That makes me off-limits. Even if my Dad didn't do the whole "I'm the coach, stay away from my daughter" routine, which he does, the sex tape would have messed up any chances we had of convincing him otherwise. From what I can gather from Carter's reputation, he's not exactly the kind of guy to stir the pot but would rather toe the line. That means there's not a chance in hell that he would cross my father even to try to be with me. No. Had I not tricked him, we would never have had that first dance.

  I've always wondered if my dad's no dating my daughter rule was just him being a hard ass or he
meant it. I've never had the opportunity to test that theory. No one has ever broken the rule. Not through high school and not one of his players in the NFL. Except for Carter. He only did it because he didn't know I was the coach's daughter. If he had there I no way, he would have ever laid a finger on me. I know this, even without him flat out telling me so yesterday.

  As much as I don't like it, I can accept it. What I don't want to admit is what we've become. We can't look at each other, we can't speak. I had gotten used to Carter's laughter and his stupid jokes. I want that back; I want us back. Even if it means we're only friends. At least it would be something.

  “What?” he asks.

  His voice breaks through my thoughts. Suddenly I am hyper-aware of the fact that I have been staring at him this entire time. Shit.

  “Nothing, sorry.”

  I say the words hoping he would pry, urge me to speak, but he doesn’t. Instead, he focuses back on his driving.

  "Hey, Carter?" I take the glance he gives me as permission to continue. "I know you hate me, and I deserve it…"

  "I don't hate you," he says softly. "I'm pissed that you lied to me. But, more than that. I'm pissed that you made me fall for you when I can't have you."

  He’s still looking straight ahead, eyes focused on the road. Suddenly I feel filled with hope. Maybe there is a chance after all.

  “Maybe…”

  “No. There are no maybes for us. “

  I nod in understanding. “I really am sorry.”

  “I know.”

  “Okay.”

  That’s it. Conversation concluded. I settle into my seat for another long two hours.

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  "Wake up, Lexie." I hear the voice calling to me, but I don't want to wake up. I'm dreaming about Carter about us. I feel his hands on me, gently shaking me.

  “Hmmm,” I moan.

  “We’re here,” he says.

  I open my eyes and look at him an uncontrollable smile coming over my face. It automatically brings back memories of waking up in his arms. The minute I’m awake though, he backs away in a hurry and hops out of the truck.

  I sit up and look out the front windshield. I smile at the view before me, a quaint white house settled on a vast amount of land. It's beautiful. Stunning.

  Carter comes around to the passenger side. He gives me his hand, helping me out of the truck. Our bodies touch, the connection is sending a shock through my body. We stare at each other. His hand on my hip, I recall the feeling of it on my bare skin.

  "Carter, honey! You're home," a woman yells from the porch. She's petite and has blonde hair that is pulled back in a tight bun. The smile on her face is beaming.

  I hear a commotion and glance off to the side where a group has gathered in the neighbor’s driveway.

  “Welcome to Brantwood. Smalltown USA and gossip capital of the world. People are going to assume that you’re the girl from the video.”

  “They would be assuming right,” I whisper.

  “No one ever needs to know that except you and me.”

  “Let them think what they want,” I say.

  "If they think that your father will think that. That cannot happen."

  I sigh. “What do you want me to do, Carter? I can’t control what they think. What I can do is act like your therapist and nothing more. Based on how you're looking at me, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

  He doesn't say anything. He shakes his head and turns toward the house.

  I follow him up the steps onto the wraparound porch. He hugs his mother tightly. "Hi, Mom, I missed you." From the tone in his voice, he means it. "Mom, this is Lexie."

  I can tell by the look on her face she too thinks that I am the woman from Carter's little video. But, she's too kind to say that to me so instead she provides a pleasant smile, one that she has perfected for just such awkward occasions.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wallace,” I tell her.

  A tall man appears behind her. He’s older but a carbon copy of Carter. The man’s eyes bounce from Carter to me, where they stay. Between the weight of the stares, I feel from the strangers to the judgment I am getting from his parents, I am a nervous wreck. I struggle to keep a pleasant look on my face.

  “Hey, Dad,” Carter says quietly.

  "Jesus, Carter, haven't you embarrassed us enough?" he asks. "Now you bring that… that slut here? To our home? And you, what kind of woman does that? Certainly not the type of woman I want for my son, or in my home."

  I am horrified. My mouth falls open, but I am unable to speak.

  “Dad, that’s enough,” Carter says.

  "I haven't even started yet. Carter, your behavior is out of control. You risked everything for what? For her? You can do better."

  “Dad,” he scolds. “You have no right to talk to her like that.”

  I’m both shocked and grateful that he’s defending me.

  “You have no right bringing her here,” his father replies. “Please don’t tell me you got her pregnant.”

  His poor mother is stuck between the two trying to stop the situation from escalating. I don’t blame her considering the audience that Carter’s arrival has brought.

  “I brought her here because she’s my therapist. And, Coach Masterson’s daughter,” Carter says. Carter’s little truth bomb shuts his father up instantaneously. “I suggest you apologize to her.”

  The worst part is that I don't deserve his apology. The man's not wrong. I am precisely who his father assumes I am. Part of me wishes that Carter wouldn't have covered for me like that. The other part is grateful because I am pretty sure that I wouldn't have been welcome in this house; otherwise, the coach's daughter or not. His father begins to speak, but I stop him.

  "No apology necessary Mr. Wallace," I chime in.

  "Yes, it is," Carter demands.

  "Carter's right. I am very sorry, Lexie. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions, and I shouldn't have taken my anger at Carter out on you."

  "We are happy to have you here," his mother says. "I'm Rebecca, and this is my husband, Richard." Rebecca puts her arm around my shoulders. "Come on inside, let's get you settled."

  It’s funny how quickly things change when you are suddenly no longer the girl who made a sex tape with their son, but instead his boss’s daughter.

  Carter’s dad places his hand on Carter’s arm, stopping him from entering the house. I can practically see the panic rushing through Carter’s veins. He is still not ready to have this conversation.

  "I hate to be a pain, but we need to get in some therapy, Carter. Especially after that long drive," I say. "We don't want that shoulder tightening up after all the progress you've made."

  I’m assuming that Mom and Dad Wallace have no idea their son reinjured his arm in a bar brawl. Under the current circumstances, it’s probably best to keep it that way.

  Thankfully, his father agrees. “We can talk later,” Richard replies.

  Carter nods. “I’ll show Lexie where she’s staying while we’re up there,” he says. Carter places his hand on the small of my back and ushers me upstairs.

  We make a left at the top of the stairs where he holds open a door for me. I enter the room feeling as though I am stepping into the past and getting a glimpse of young Carter. Trophies, pennants, and pictures from high school adorn the walls and shelves. It's almost as though the last ten years of his life hadn't happened.

  “Thanks for the save,” he says when he shuts the door behind us.

  “No problem. I figure I owe you at least that much.” I move closer to him and reach for his sling. “Besides, you really could use some therapy.”

  He groans as he sits on the bed. I remove the sling and turn to place it on the nightstand next to the bed. When I look back, he is sitting there, shirtless. I swallow hard because the sight of him still takes my breath away.

  “You okay?” he asks with a smirk.

  His attitude is much more relaxed than it has been all day.

  “I’m f
ine.” I kneel next to him on the bed and place my hands on his shoulder. Damn if the memories of us – together – don’t flood my mind.

  “Lex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “My shoulder?”

  What the hell? I look down, and my right hand had slid down to his chest. Shit.

  “Oh God, I am so sorry,” I reply.

  I shake my head, trying to rid myself of any remaining desire I have for him and focus my attention back on something safe – his shoulder. He groans in pain as I manipulate it.

  “So, how about that weather?” I say trying to distract him from the pain.

  “Seriously?” he laughs.

  Chapter 9 – Carter

  I can't help it. When Lexie starts talking about the weather, I lose it.

  "What?" she asks, though she is laughing too. "You have to admit; this is awkward."

  She's right; it is. I haven't exactly been helping the situation either. I can't help it though. I'm pissed and hurt. I've had not time to think or to process everything that's happened. It's barely been twenty-four hours since I learned the truth, and frankly, I still don't know how to handle it. I thought she was ‘the one' and now…

  It turns out she isn't. Or she is, but she can't be. Either way, the end result is that we are over. That doesn't stop me from wanting her, though. Nor does being pissed at her for withholding the truth from me make me dislike spending time with her. All of this and I still enjoy her company. Hell, I enjoy everything about her.

  “I know, I’m sorry.”

  "You have no reason to be sorry. All this mess is my doing," Lexie says. "I would apologize, but I can't. Being with you, even for that short time. It was worth it."

  One day, only one damn day, and I can already feel my anger dissipating. Add in the look on her face right now, and I'm wondering how I stayed angry this long.

  “Lexie—”

  “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I mean it, Carter. You…”

  She's close enough to kiss. And despite everything, even knowing that I could potentially destroy my career with the Knights, that's precisely what I find myself doing – moving in to kiss her.