Page 27 of Chips & Checks
He shrugs. “I just wanted to check on the new guy. Some players transition to a new team better than others.”
“True.” I tuck in my chin. “Well, Bowen and I just met, so it’s hard to say.”
He’s watching me with the same worried wrinkle between his eyebrows that was on Bowen’s face earlier. Part of me wants to blurt out why I’m headed to the front office, but I don’t know what he would do if I told him. I mean, he’dbelieveme. He’d probably react the same way Bowen did. But the fact that he’s my dad makes this whole situation more complicated. What if he confronted Chad or tried to get rid of him through intimidation? Would he be doing that because it’s the right thing to do, or because he’s my father? It’s not like Chad hurt me, and to be honest, if I reported every guy who’s ever made me uncomfortable, I’d be filing paperwork left and right. PT requires physical contact. I’ve had to massagesomany glute and groin strains over the years, it’s not even funny. I’m not obtuse. I know I’m objectively desirable to most hot-blooded professional athletes. I know some of them get hard. But that doesn’t always mean it’s sexual.
That’s the part no one talks about. Sometimes it’s just biology. Pressure, friction, stress. Some guys are mortified when it happens. They apologize before I can even say anything.
But some?
Some make it weird. They hold eye contact too long. Shift their hips on purpose. Let their hands linger when they should be still.
I’m not saying that the prevalence of creep-o behavior makes it okay, just that Chad isn’t a unique case. Why shouldhebe punished when I’ve let so many other interactions slide?
The elevator stops, and the door slides open, but Dad is still watching me. “You sure you’re good?”
I nod and smile again. “Yeah, just thinking about something from earlier. I’m seeing you and Mom this weekend, right?” Changing the topic to family plans is always a good way to redirect the conversation.
“You’d better. Don’t make your mother cry,” Dad warns.
I snicker to myself. “You’rethe one who gets all emotional when I cancel plans.”
Dad walks backward off the elevator. “Allegedly.”
“Mom sent photos.”
“They could be faked.”
“She sent me a video of you curled up on the couch the time I had to miss movie night.”
“It was all for show,” he says. Then he gives me a hug. “Have a good one, kiddo.”
I’m feeling a little better after talking to him, even if we didn’t discuss the problem of Chad. I wave as he walks off toward his office before turning on my heel and beelining it for Renee’s.
Renee is sorting through papers when I arrive. A quick glance at the forms reveals Bowen’s name. I avert my gaze—outside of PT, Bowen’s none of my business. I clear my throat. “Renee? Do you have a moment?”
She looks up in surprise. “Oh, hey, Violet. What brings you here? Everything okay?”
“I, uh…” I clear my throat. “I was just wondering if there’s any way that Chad Hawthorne… is there any way he can be reassigned? I mean without it creating a PR problem?”
“To another PT?” Renee’s eyebrows jump toward the ceiling. “I’m afraid not. He has a history of head injuries, which is why he was assigned to you. Is there an issue? Should I call Annette from HR?”
“Well…” I consider how much to tell her. If I have to keep working with Chad, I don’t know if I’m ready to complain. How big a deal am I prepared to make of this?
There’s a knock on the main office door. Bowen pokes his head in without waiting for a response. “Hey, Renee, I was wondering… Oh. Youdidcome up.” He flashes me one of those panty-dropping smiles.
No. It’s a normal smile. A very nice, but objectively unsexy, expression of happiness. The fact that he’s slightly damp from the showers and that his shirt is clinging to his abs has nothing to do with anything.
Nope. Nada. Zilch.
I fan myself a little. “Does it seem warm in here?”
“I’m warm,” Bowen agrees. “But I took the stairs. Do you want me to wait outside, or offer my testimony as evidence?”
“Evidence of what?” Renee’s eyes bounce back and forth between me and Bowen. “Is there a problem?”
Bowen scowls. “Yes, there’s a problem. Hawthorne. He was out of line just now.” He lets the door close behind him and crosses his arms over his chest. Good God, those arms. I bet he could bench-press me without breaking a sweat. I bet I’d like it, too.
“Ah.” Renee’s fingers skim across the pile of Bowen’s papers, flicking the corners as she thinks. “Well, as I told Violet, I can’t transfer him to another PT because she’s the head injury specialist. Dante has been very clear. When you say he was out of line, could you be more specific?”
