Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
He lets out a laugh. “I may have hit a few balls—”
I start to cut him off, but he continues. “I was helping Cole with his batting.”
I stomp my foot. “Really? What part of resting your arm do you not understand? I’m trying to get your arm ready, and you don’t want a setback.”
Once I get started, I can’t stop. I keep rambling on, and he’s just sitting on the stool with a smile on his face.
“What? What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He juts his chin at me. “You’re cute when you get all riled up.”
I groan in frustration. “Do you need a pain pill?”
He holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Nope, no pain pills.”
I haven’t been able to get him to take any of his pain pills, so I know what I need to do. I tap him on the shoulder. “Fine, take your shirt off and sit down at the table. I’ll be right back.”
I walk downstairs to the therapy room. I grab the massage ointment and the gua sha tool so I can do some scraping therapy.
When I get back into the kitchen, he’s in the same spot I left him in. “I’m fine. I don’t need any—”
“Forget it. Let’s go, mister. Shirt off and in the chair. I’m not going to let you set yourself back. Let me do this.”
His jaw tightens, and I half expect him to refuse, but he finally gets up. As he walks toward the table, he takes his shirt off. I watch as his muscles ripple and clear my throat when he turns around to look at me.
“Sit,” I insist.
He sits down, and I add ointment to my palms and then rub my hands together to warm it up. I barely touch his shoulder and he groans. I make a point to work his muscles, and when I can feel him loosen up, I use the scraper. His satisfied groans turn into painful moans, but I don’t lighten up. “You’ll probably bruise, Holden. I can feel the knots forming already.”
He doesn’t answer; he just lets me work my magic.
He’s quiet as I work, and when I notice he has his eyes clenched, I ask him, “You okay?”
His brown eyes open and stare up at me with so much turmoil. “You think I should call it quits?”
I lay the scraper down and then go and grab a dish towel to clean him up. “I thought we talked about this. The plan is for you to go back and then decide whether you’re going to stay or not.”
He doesn’t try to hide the worry in his face. “I hit a few balls and look at me. The pain is overwhelming. I can’t continue like this.”
After I clean the ointment off his shoulder, I sit down in the chair next to him. “I know it’s frustrating, Holden. I need you to give me time. It’s a strain, and it needs time to heal.”
He's giving me a skeptical look, and I'm trying not to get frustrated. I understand how he feels, but mindset is half the battle. “If you don’t believe you’re going to get better, you won’t.”
“But—”
I shake my head and cut him off. “No, seriously, I need you to get rid of the negative thoughts. I need you to picture yourself playing in the playoffs. Getting outs, making plays, and hitting bombs.”
With that, he smiles. “Bombs, huh?”
I shrug. “Is it called something different in the major leagues? That’s what Cole and his friends call home runs.”
He nods at me. “No, that’s right. We call them bombs too. I just thought it was cute when you said it.”
I lean back in my chair. The fact he’s attractive and that he is good to my son makes him even harder to resist. I have to keep reminding myself that this is my job, and I can’t screw it up… no matter how handsome and charming the patient is.
Holden slides his hand across the table, and right before he touches my hand, he stops. I stare at the small space between our fingers and wait.
He clears his throat. “How about you? How was your date?”
His question jars me, and I pull my hand back. “Fine.”
He laughs. “Fine? That’s what you said earlier. I don’t think it was fine. You seemed, I don’t know, frazzled when you got home earlier.”
When I remain silent, he asks worriedly, “Did something happen?”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. If I was working from the office, I could talk to my friends during lunch about this. I haven't had a chance to talk to them, and I really need to talk to someone. Without even thinking, I just blurt it out to him. Before I realize it, I have told him the whole sordid story. I told him about Jeremy ignoring me, about dancing with Clark and his proposition, and how I put my heel into his foot for him to release me.