Page 27 of Whatever Happens

“God, no. If he did, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. And Carter? He would have more to worry about than his arm. No, his punishment consists of going home, lying low, and working with me.” I scoff. “He may not know what’s going on, but he sure as hell is doing a great job of punishing us for it.”

“I know this is all bad, but you have to admit, this has the makings of a great romance. Forbidden romance, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, second chance romance, all wrapped into one.”

“You can forget the second chance part. Carter made sure I was more than aware of where I stood with him.”

“Meaning?”

“He told me I am his therapist, nothing more. Not now. Not ever.”

With a wave of her hand Abbie blows of the statement. “Men are such drama queens sometimes. Two days away from here with you and he’ll be on his knees beggingyoufor forgiveness.”

I roll my eyes.

“And,” she continues, “if that doesn’t happen… at least you get your dream job, right?”

I suppose that is a silver lining. When one door closes, another opens right? Now if only I can get Carter to work with me to help improve his arm.

Chapter10

Carter

When I walked out of the coach’s office, my head was spinning.

Seeing Lexie walk into the coach’s office? To hear her call him Daddy?

I half hoped she was having an affair with him rather than the reality.

The woman who turned my shit show of a life into something bearable is my coach’s daughter.

Fuck.

And to make matters worse, I’m going to be with her day in and day out?

The sight as I pulled out of the lot only served to remind me of my other problem. The video. Mobs of people, reporters, fans—probably more correctly, ex-fans—surrounded the place. Anywhere I went, I was going to succumb to the same fate, thanks to the shit show my life has turned into. The last thing I need is any more trouble or attention.

So, I go to the only place that’s safe—home.

I do the one thing I had been avoiding all day.

“Carter?” the voice on the other line says… my mom’s voice. A voice that’s usually comforts me is laced with distress… because of me.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“I’ll explain everything… when I get there.”

“Get there? You’re… you’re coming home?”

“Yeah. Coach thought it would be good for me to lie low for a while.”

“I’m not pleased with the circumstances, but I’m glad you’re coming home.”

“Me, too, Mom,” I lie. “There’s one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“My physical therapist is coming with me.”

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