Page 178 of Altius
“Experience—and the look in her eyes.” He watched as the player slowly made her way to the free-throw line, still trying to catch her breath. “She’ll make both shots. Just wait and see.”
My phone buzzed again. The devil wanted to be given his flirtatious due.
Come on, doc. The suspense is killing me.
Guess you’ll never know.
Wrong. It’s even more of an incentive to stop playing by the rules.
The first penalty throw went through the net with a satisfying swish, earning cheers and whistles from the crowd. Reminding me I was at work.
This conversation needed to end.
Whatever. Let Alijah know about the wine. I’m busy.
Is that how Owen slithered into being your new workout buddy—by keeping you busy?
I wanted to tell him off, but the silence that fell over the arena drew my attention back to the top of the key. Our player carefully raised the basketball, visualizing its course through the air, where it would rebound off the backboard into the net.
Except it didn’t.
The ball clipped the rim, rolling outward.
As I looked down at my phone, still unsure how to respond to Joaquin, a new message notification from my personal email account popped up. The sender was a prestigious hospital in Maryland.
My heart sank.
“Bad news?” Dr. Flemming asked gently.
Opening my email, I confirmed what I already knew. They appreciated my impressive background but had chosen to pursue other candidates with more experience.
I slipped my phone into the front pocket of my work bag. “Another rejection.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with genuine commiseration.
Dr. Flemming was too honest to bother with empty platitudes. It’s one of the things I liked most about working for him.
“Have you received any job offers yet?”
“No. And ironically, the longer I’ve been in this fellowship, the less interest my applications get.”
Stroking his mustache, Dr. Flemming studied my profile for a long moment.
I turned and raised a brow at him. “Just say it. You know how this all works better than I do, and if there’s something I’m doing wrong…”
“It’s not you, Morgan,” he said. “But there’s only so many fish that can fit in the collegiate sports medicine pond…and people talk. With or without knowing all the facts.”
She’s hysterical.
I tried to recall the faces of the people standing in the medical tent when Garvey blamed me for everything, saying I’d attacked him without cause. Had one of them spread rumors about the incident?
Hell, I didn’t even know if the terms of Garvey’s dismissal included a confidentiality agreement. He could be out there right now, badmouthing me to every coach on the East Coast.
I took a centering breath. “Are you suggesting I give up on applying to schools?”
“Not necessarily, but… You might want to consider thinking outside the box.” He fussed with his bowtie. “Brizo House has a spot on their board of directors opening up soon.”
Blood pounded in my ears.
