Page 20 of Wait For It

Or lack of business.

“Theo,” I said, putting my full weight on the crutches and only wincing twice as the movement jarred my knee. “We’re still keeping my location under wraps, right? The last thing I need is the press breathing down my neck if my focus is on getting better, you know?”

“They’ve been told you’re rehabbing, but not where. The staff is bound by HIPAA laws, as well as the NDA they signed on your arrival. You’re good.”

Once he left, I began the long and arduous trek toward the door, lost in my own thoughts. With rigorous physical therapy, there was a chance I could be on the field within six months. I might miss most of spring training, but at least I’d be back for the regular season.

Clearly, I was living in a fairy tale world. One where happy endings existed outside of the massage parlors and the Hurricanes made me another offer. It didn’t stop me from briefly closing my eyes and envisioning myself signing the contract, though.

If you can visualize it, you can make it happen.

The exercise was one of my father’s more ‘out-there’ coaching strategies, but something I’d held onto over the years.

Unlike our relationship.

I briefly registered the flash of red hair and looked down at the woman in a wheelchair, frantically waving a placard with my name on it up at me. The smile on her face told me everything I needed to know.

Here we go again.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I snapped with a forced chuckle, before taking off for the elevators as fast as my crutches would allow.

Theo and I were going to have words.

Strong ones.

“You’re phoning it in, Killian,” my trainer, Rocky, noted from his crouched position beside me. “Do it again, but this time, hold for five seconds, okay? That brace is locked in position, it’s not going anywhere.”

I stared daggers at the ceiling above me before raising my injured leg off the mat a couple of inches. This trainer didn’t know a ball from a strike, yet was somehow my best bet for getting back onto the field.

Just keep your mouth shut, Killian, Theo’s voice warned from inside my head.Do as you’re told.

Two weeks in and I was starting to realize my goal of being back on the field next season was nothing more than a pipe dream. Non-weight bearing for six weeks meant I was stuck performing basic range of motion exercises for Rocky until cleared by a doctor.

I would have preferred any one of the team’s athletic trainers to him. Even grumpy old Takahashi, whose idea of rehab involved copious amounts of pain, and strangely enough, acupuncture needles. At least he knew me. He would have understood what was at stake and pushed my body to its limits.

He damn sure wouldn’t have me lying on a mat, raising my leg up and down like a trained monkey in the circus.

“That’s great! Now, hit it back to me!”

I lifted my head to watch the spectacle. Two of the other physical therapists were taking turns batting a balloon to the woman who’d accosted me for an autograph a week ago. As no one had approached me since, I could only assume Theo had done his job.

Rocky looked down to enter something on his tablet, and I took the opportunity to scrutinize the girl. For rehab—or classes, as we were instructed to call them, most everyone wore t-shirts and shorts.

Not her.

She always looked like she was heading off to Sunday service, and the green floral dress she wore today was no exception. The fabric fell to her knees with long sleeves that ended just above her wrists.

As if sensing someone watching her, she looked up and met my gaze. An intense blush stained her cheeks red and she immediately turned away as if she knew she’d been caught.

I’d seen all I needed to when she showed up outside my door. She was like so many women before her—on the hunt for a knight in shining armor to swoop in and rescue them from the monotony of their everyday lives.

Why else would she dress up for therapy?

Poor thing had probably been told she was a princess her entire life, to the point she actually believed it. She wasn’t looking for a husband—not really. No, this girl was after the large bank account and children who could be carted around like the latest accessory, while she mindlessly wandered the aisles at the local grocery store.

Unfortunately for her and every other Stepford wife in the making, I was nobody’s knight. And it was going to take more than a dress to distract me from my goal.

That wasn’t to say I hadn’t noticed her. With her auburn hair, she was a little hard to miss, as was the way her eyes seemed to follow me when I entered a room.

---