Page 12 of Ryder: Shadows and Desires
“You my therapist now?”
“Your sports therapist, yeah,” I say, gesturing around the room with a wave of my hand.
He gives a deadpan stare before languidly blinking and crossing his arms. “I’ve been through a lot of shit. None of it’s holding me back.”
I move on, despite thatalsobegging me to ask more questions. “So, you’re moderately healthy then for a thirty-two year old fighter. Is that right?”
“That’s right,” he confirms, sniffing as he glowers.Also putting down that he is like talking to a brick wall.
“What made you want to do this? To enter Warlord?”
“Money. That’s all I’m saying.”
Ain’t getting much from him, that’s for sure.“Alright,well, I’m going to monitor you for the rest of the day. I don’t need to be your friend for this, but I really need to emphasize that the more you’re honest with me, the easier it is to treat injuries and train. Usually, it’s fine, but when working one-on-one with an elite athlete, knowing minor details can enhance the training experience.”
“Noted.”
“Well, welcome to Rhino MMA, Ryder. I look forward to being on your team,” I say with as much professionalism as I can muster.
He exhales as he stands. “When do I see you next?”
“I’m going to watch you today. You’ll end with twenty in the sauna. Then two days from now, we’ll reconvene. I want to give you some time to get sore and tight, figure out where your muscles lock up. We’ll go from there.”
I stand and notice that I come to his shoulders. Even now, some annoying, lingering crush from ten years ago begs to chip away at his armor, desperate to reach beneath that angry surface.
But I know entertaining such thoughts is pointless. He’s made that thoroughly clear.
Ryder turns to leave, but as he stands in the doorway, he glances over his shoulder. “Cake was good, by the way.”
My cheeks rush with a burning heat, and I am almostmadat him for making me blush.
J U L I E
* * *
Two weeks have passed.Everything in the gym moves with precision to accommodate our champion, given that Warlord begins in a month.
I tend to Ryder like any other athlete. The massages are neutral, with him only complaining about the spa music.
Behaving professionally while rubbing my hands and elbows on a body I’ve desperately wanted to touch for years comes more naturally than anticipated. The first rub down, of course, had all the pressure riding on it, and my hands passed over scars that the cameras never quite picked up—except for the one on his back, which the cameras would havenevermissed. So more recent, then…
But the man is all about competing; he’s far from conversational and tenses up whenever asked about his life, interests, or thoughts on the weather.
I’m beginning to think that his rough demeanor isn’t just a part of his campaign image; he’s got emotional horse blinders on.
Either way, treating Ryder professionally with that mindset makes my job easier. Every time I see him train, I see a machine that might actually conquer this damn tournament. When he spars, I catch how nervous our guys are before joining him in the ring.
The legend demands privacy, so Andrew fields most of the requests to speak on behalf Rhino MMA, addressing the rumors about Ryder reappearing in this sleepy town.
And just like that, supporting Ryder becomes our new normal.
At lunch, I sit in the break room and stare at my chipped nail polish, waiting on Tiffany to text me back. We plan to go out for drinks later to properly catch up and gossip all night about Joey Ryder. She’s one of the few women I know who understand his significance, given Jeremy’s admiration.
She mentioned bringing along her aunt Dolores, whom Tiff recently got back in touch with. I said fine, as all I need is someone to sit and drink with. Who knows, maybe the aunt has an expert opinion or two.
I glance up when Luke enters the room, his black hair still buzzed. His cheeks are flushed, and he sits down with a slightly frosted water bottle in hand. “How’s it going, Stevens? Haven’t seen you in a while.”
My heart races, not sure what to do with these feelings—or lack thereof.
