by Sara Rider
He squeezed her tighter, and she relaxed into his broad chest. Grief had defined her entire childhood, hanging over her like a shroud. She’d had to fight so hard to break through it. To become someone other than the girl whose twin was dead. His arms felt like a shield around her, keeping her hidden from the world as she spilled her long-guarded secrets. He didn’t rush her. Didn’t prod. He let her take her time revealing the pieces of her past, ignoring the sniffling at every second word as she tried to hold off the deluge of snot trying to escape her nose.
“They’ve never once come down to watch any of my games in Seattle. Vancouver’s only a two-hour drive from here.” Her sadness grew, mutating into something different. Anger. “They never watched any of my games in Vancouver, either. Not even the Team Canada games. And I get it. They’re just doing what they need to do to survive. I can forgive them for that. But what I can’t get over is the fact they gave up being parents before Chelsea died.”
“What do you mean?” His fingers found hers, entwining them together. He kissed her knuckles.
“Chels was selected for this special charity thing. The Wish-Come-True Foundation, or something like that. Anyway, they were going to pay for us to go to Disneyland. I know it sounds cheesy, but it was one of those things other kids got excited about. Regular kids. She was so excited. We watched Beauty and the Beast a million times and learned all the songs.” A hiccup escaped her lips. He squeezed her hand tighter. “Right before we were supposed to go, Chels got worse. I think it was the moment my parents knew she wasn’t going to make it. She knew it, too. She begged them to let us go anyway, but they wanted to try this last-ditch experimental treatment.”
“So you didn’t go to Disneyland?”
She shook her head. “She knew she was going to die and the only thing she wanted was this one last adventure. One chance to be a normal kid. And they took that away from her.”
“And that’s why you made her that promise.” It wasn’t a question. He was too smart, too observant, not to put together the little details.
Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. “She said that if she died, I needed to stay healthy and live big enough for two people. I was supposed to be the healthy one. I’m not supposed to get sick. What if I can’t play soccer ever again? What if I can’t do anything anymore?” She could barely force out the words between hiccups and anxious breaths.
“Hey, that’s not going to happen.” He brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “We won’t let it. So what if it’s ten times harder for you than everyone else? You’re the strongest person I know, Jaime. If anyone is up to the challenge, it’s you.”
A hint of a smile crept its way to her lips. He made her feel like a superhero. But she knew the feeling would be fleeting. She’d wake up tomorrow stiff as cement and unable to brush her own teeth again. But why not enjoy his comfort while she could? She twisted in his lap and kissed him. Then, remembering he was completely naked beneath her, she pulled back to enjoy that particular fact.
He laughed, catching her in the act, then rolled her onto the bed to pull her robe apart. He palmed her breast and kissed her, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb while she moaned into his mouth. She reached down to circle him.
The doorbell chimed.
She sighed. “I guess I need to put the robe back on. You’re welcome to keep your clothes off.”
“I doubt that’s the kind of tip the delivery guy is looking for.” He rolled off the bed and stepped into his boxers.
She paid for the food and set the boxes on her counter. Alex, disappointingly fully dressed, grabbed the plates from her cupboard while she filled two glasses with water.
“Have you ever treated anyone with rheumatoid arthritis before?” she asked while picking out the green onions from her Pad Thai.
“A few times early in my career when I was working at a clinic. It was all post-diagnosis, though.”
“Never on any of the sports teams you’ve worked with?”
He shook his head. When he finished swallowing a bite of green curry, he added, “But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. It just means it’s not that common of a disease.”
“The steroids really helped. Maybe I could get a couple more and be ready for the semifinal game next week,” she said hopefully.
“No doctor worth his salt will inject you more than a handful of times a year. Too much risk of long-term damage. Once you start the meds, the flares should recede, and if you’re lucky, you won’t have to worry about them again.”
She dropped her chopsticks on the table and rubbed her forehead. “Do you think I can play next week? Honestly?” She needed some kind of hope that this diagnosis wasn’t the death knell for her career.
“I think you should take it easy for a couple more days, wait for the swelling to disappear, and then reassess.” He reached over the small table and grabbed her hand. “But honestly? I think chances are pretty good you’ll be back on the field soon.”
“Are you going to tell Coach that?” If Alex believed she’d be ready, then Coach would, too. After the mess in Chicago, Coach had made it clear to her that he didn’t buy the food-poisoning ruse and she wouldn’t be playing until he was convinced she was 100 percent fit. But she’d never be 100 percent anymore. Maybe Coach would understand that she wasn’t incapacitated; she just needed some time to figure out how to work with her new body. But to do that, she’d have to be honest with him about her diagnosis, and she wasn’t ready to share that with anyone outside these walls yet.
Alex shook his head again, causing her bottom lip to drop. “I can’t say anything about you to Victor. I can’t treat you anymore. He knows something happened between us. Look, I know I acted like an ass when I found out that you told Victor and Gina, and I’m sorry about that. More than you know. But that doesn’t change the fact that treating you would be a conflict of interest from now on. I could lose my license.”
She tipped her head back in defeat. “How am I going to get back in the game?”
“They’ve brought in a new physio for the play-offs to help with the workload. She can assess you. She’s good.”
Jaime snorted. “So what? She’s not you.”
He drew small circles with his thumb on the back of her hand. “I can’t do anything for you as a professional physiotherapist, but I can still help you as a friend.”
“Friend?” They hadn’t spoken about what they were doing, but she thought they had bypassed the friendship phase and jumped into something more. Something deeper. Did he regret getting involved with her? She’d been so wrapped up in her own head, she’d forgotten that most of the consequences of getting caught landed on his shoulders.
He didn’t seem to notice the worry in her voice. “I promised I’d help you with this, and I meant it. We can work on figuring out what foods trigger your inflammation so you can avoid them, and ways to deal with your morning stiffness.”
“Right. As friends.” She gave him another weak smile.
“As friends.”
She needed to change the subject before it overwhelmed her. “You know, the term ‘morning stiffness’ isn’t nearly as sexy as it sounds.”
He laughed. “I’m sure if we thought hard enough, we could find a way to change the mental association back for you.”
“Hard enough, eh?”
She laughed and brought their empty dishes to the sink. She liked that he made her laugh when they were alone. That he was so smart and determined when it came to helping her figure out what was happening to her body, but he could also turn off his rigidly professional persona like a switch when she needed comfort. And the way he instinctively grabbed a dish towel to dry while she washed—it was the kind of thing she could get used to.
Those were dangerous thoughts. The kind she was better off not letting herself think right now.
Her shoulders felt heavy while she ran t
he scrub brush over the plates. Almost as heavy as her eyelids. It had been one heck of a day, and it was starting to catch up with her.
“You need some sleep,” he said, reading her mind.
“And a shower.”
“You want me to stay?”
Her heart tingled. She wanted to spend the night wrapped in his arms again, but how selfish would that make her? The time leading into the play-offs had to be incredibly busy for him, even with a new assistant physio. Taking her to her appointments and doing all that background research was all done on his personal time. He’d given her a lot, and all she was doing was taking, giving nothing in return. He needed a break, too. “It’s all right. You don’t have to.”
She kissed him on the cheek and headed to the bathroom without turning around, not wanting him to catch the lie on her face.
The steamy water pounded into her back. One of the things that had attracted her to the dark basement suite was the giant, massaging showerhead the upstairs homeowners had installed in her bathroom. The water pressure was excellent, too, and made up for the cramped space and low lighting. She shampooed her hair and let her favorite conditioner soak in while she rolled her neck from side-to-side and stretched out her hamstrings. So far so good. No flares or shooting pain. The steroids were still holding up.
She emerged from the bathroom almost a half hour later, wrapped in her robe and a fluffy towel around her hair. Her stomach sank when she walked into the empty living room. Alex was gone. She didn’t really expect him to stay after giving him a perfect opportunity to escape gracefully, but she hadn’t considered what she was going to do by herself for the rest of the evening. All alone with all her thoughts.
Deciding sleep was the only way to spend the rest of the evening without driving herself crazy, she went straight to her bedroom. There was an unexpected surprise waiting for her on her bed.
“You stayed?”
Alex looked up from her bed and smiled. Her fully made bed. “I know you hate being alone.”
Her throat felt tight. “And you cleaned my room.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “Couldn’t help myself. I mostly just threw the clothes all over the floor into your laundry basket. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, it’s sweet.” Self-doubt crawled under her skin. “Does it bother you that I’m a total slob?”
“No,” he answered with that smile that always seemed to melt her bones. “As long as you don’t mind if I tidy up without permission. But I do think you should take better care of your Olympic medals. I found them at the bottom of a pile of books and put them on top of your dresser so they wouldn’t get scratched.”
“Thank you.” She stepped between his legs and ran her fingers through his thick dark hair. He pulled the tie on her robe, letting it fall slowly open. He slid his hands behind her waist and kissed her stomach, leaving a sizzling trail on her skin as he worked his way to her sternum. She tugged at his shirt. He leaned back to let her pull it over his head, then slipped her robe off her shoulders, letting out an appreciative hiss that made her insides turn liquid.
She worked the button of his jeans open, taking her time to savor the moment, running her hands over the ridges of his abdomen and the muscles in his forearms before moving to the zipper. He scooped her up without warning, causing the towel around her hair to tumble to the ground, and set her in the middle of the bed. He brushed her wet hair from her face and kissed her with so much passion, the oxygen left her brain. She ran her hands along his back, memorizing the feel of his spine beneath her fingers.
He pulled off his jeans and covered himself with a condom from the box still on the nightstand, and entered her slowly, sealing his mouth over hers as he filled her inch by inch. He thrust inside her so deeply, she could’ve sworn she felt it in her heart. He moved inside her steadily, rhythmically, and brought her to a passionate, beautiful climax, holding her in his arms the entire time.
They stayed entwined together until the pull of sleep was too much to fight. “Stay until tomorrow?” she mumbled into his neck.
Sleep pulled away her consciousness before she heard his answer.
18
MORNINGS HAD BECOME SOMETHING Jaime dreaded. That was when her pain and stiffness was at its worst. But when she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the soothing warmth enveloping her.
Alex.
She wriggled closer despite her body’s protest, trying to surround herself in more of that exquisite warmth, and got a hard reminder of the multiple definitions of morning stiffness.
“Buenos días,” he said with a yawn, sneaking his hand up to cup her breast.
She reached her hand back to grab his butt, but her hand seized. She grunted her frustration. He must have sensed her pain because he let go of her instantly. She eased onto her back and gave him the warmest smile she could muster. “So, are we planning to do this again sometime or is this the kind of thing where we walk away without another word and have to deal with awkward looks and pointed subtexts in our conversation for the rest of our careers?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“You. I know I acted like an ass last week—”
“The words ‘damage control’ come to mind.”
He smiled and traced his index finger down her cheek. “I didn’t mean I was ashamed of you, or us. I meant that I needed a way to figure out how to make this thing between us work in the long term.”
A heavy lump filled her throat. “Long term?”
“Well, longer than one night, at least.”
“Are you sure you won’t get in trouble if this becomes a regularly occurring thing?”
His hand stilled. “Nah. The season’s almost over, and then neither of us will technically be under contract.”
“But what about next season?”
“Next season? Here I was thinking I was the one coming on strong.”
She flicked her fingers against his chest. “You know what I mean. Even if this thing is no longer a thing next season, you still won’t be able to treat me, and there’s no way Coach will be okay with me not having any physio.”
He threw the covers off and pulled his clothes on. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll all sort itself out.” He sounded unfazed, which made her feel uneasy. “Don’t worry about it” was supposed to be her motto. It wasn’t like him to not worry or plan or generally be uptight about every detail in life. Maybe she was finally starting to rub off on him.
Or maybe he didn’t think there was anything to worry about because he didn’t think she’d be a Falcon next year.
She crawled out of bed with the grace of a geriatric elephant and headed to the shower. It was a nice kind of strange to wake up next to him and find the small traces of his presence scattered across her small apartment, like he already belonged there. His black Nikes were neatly placed at the front door next to her flip-flops. A small green-and-white contact lens container sat at the corner of her porcelain sink next to her bottle of face wash. She fished through her medicine cabinet for the spare toothbrush she kept handy, and called out to him to let him know it was there. She stepped into the shower to let the hot water soothe her aches and purge the worrisome thoughts from her mind, comforted by the sound of him shuffling around the small bathroom and humming a melody she didn’t recognize. It all felt so familiar.
When she finally finished her shower, she discovered Alex in the kitchen, dishing the leftover Thai food onto two plates.
“Breakfast of champions?” she asked, taking a seat at the small table in her kitchenette.
“I would suggest something healthier on a practice day, but it’ll do.”
“Leftover takeout is always the right answer. The curry gets so gooey and delicious.”
He leaned over her shoulder and stole a bite before walking away to get something from her counter. He came ba
ck and set a glass of water and a pill bottle in front of her.
“What’s this?” Jaime asked.
Alex sat down across from her. “Your meds. If you want back on the starting lineup, you need to take these.” He unscrewed the bottle and knocked a small, round, white pill into her hand.
She stared at it for a few moments. It was surreal how one little pill could contain so much cold, hard reality. All the stuff she pushed out of her mind last night when she made love to Alex came rushing back. With a deep breath, she put the pill in her mouth and knocked it back with a swig of water.
“Ugh. It tastes like my throat got punched with a bag of nickels.”
“You’ll get used to it. Try it with orange juice tomorrow. Now hurry up and eat so that I can get to Chester Stadium. I have to tape everyone up before practice.”
She choked on her water, causing a dribble to spill onto her chin. Today was the day she had to face the team. She wasn’t ready. Everyone would be demanding answers about what happened to her that morning in Chicago. Staring. Wondering.
Even though she was ready to endure any kind of physical agony her body threw at her if it meant getting back in the game, it appeared she was an absolute coward when it came to the emotional side of things.
She wiped her chin with the back of her hand. “You know I break out in hives whenever I arrive early for anything. I don’t need to be there for another few hours. Just go without me. I’ll take my own car and meet you there.”
The lines in his forehead deepened. “You sure?”
“Of course.”
He cupped the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “All right. I’ll see you soon.”
She held her breath as she watched him leave. When the door shut behind him, she dropped onto her couch and exhaled. She was screwed.
