Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Graham
“ T his is sloppy, Graham!” My father slams a tabloid magazine onto the table between us. “She’s a team doctor, an employee,” he continues, driving his finger into the grainy image of me at the airport from a week ago. The photo shows me cradling Ana’s face in a moment of affection.
What it doesn’t show is the knife being driven into my chest, carving out what remained of the withered muscle behind my ribcage. It doesn’t capture the pain in her eyes or the shock in mine.
It looks romantic. Intimate.
But in reality, it’s the single worst moment of my life, captured in grainy pixels and publicized forever.
I can’t even bring myself to read the headline printed above it. My throat tightens as my eyes glance over the magazine and back up to my father.
“She’s half your age, son! What were you thinking?” he leans back and folds his arms across his chest.
“I wasn’t,” I whisper and drop into a chair, my body too heavy to remain upright any longer. “I can’t think when I’m around her.”
He sighs and pulls out the chair across from me. “How long has this been going on?” he asks, probing me for details that I haven’t shared with anyone. I’ve kept them tucked safely away inside myself because the truth is, I don’t know what to make of them.
“I met her in Cape Town,” I mutter, tapping my fingertips nervously on the table. “The night mom died.” My heart clenches in my chest and my throat goes dry as a pulse of grief I’d been bottling up overtakes me. “I was in South Africa while my mother was withering away on her deathbed.”
“Graham,” my father sighs heavily and puts his hand on my forearm, squeezing gently. “Your mother wanted you to go. She urged you to go. I know you feel guilty about that, but please don’t do that to yourself. She was happy you went.” His voice was quiet but full of emotion. “How is she here now?” he asks, turning the conversation back to Ana.
“A bit of a coincidence if you could believe it,” I chuckle bitterly, remembering the moment I saw her in the conference room. “I spent one night with her in Cape Town,” I explain with a vague wave of my hand. “We didn’t exchange numbers or last names. We didn’t tell the other person where we were from. It was meant to be a distraction. An outlet. Nothing more.”
My father raises an eyebrow but does not comment on my poor choices. I’m a grown-ass man, I can do whatever I please.
“But when she left that morning, I felt like she took a part of me with her. I’ve been reeling ever since. I tried for weeks to find her using her name and occupation, but I didn’t know where to look. Then, one day I walked into the conference room to greet our newest medical doctor, and there she was.” I smirk at the memory and scrub my hand across my jaw. “But everything is different now that we’re in the real world. We can’t be together for more than a few hours before we’re at each other's throats.”
He sighs and leans back in his chair, expression unreadable. “You know I’m not a superstitious man. Your mother was always the one who believed in fate.” His voice trails off and I think he’s not going to say anything else, but suddenly his eyes are boring into mine. “But I can’t help but feel that maybe your mother sent you this girl because she knew you needed someone.”
My vision blurs as I stare down at the grainy image of Anastasia, my gut twisting painfully. I know I need to talk to her, but she hasn't returned my calls or texts. “Maybe she did,” I murmur and rake my fingers through my hair.
“Then I think you need to figure out what you want to worry about fixing more, the team or the situation between the two of you.”
He’s right, of course, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to make that decision.
It’s been four weeks since Ana left me standing in the airport with my bleeding heart in a heap at my feet.
One month.
And it’s been the single hardest month of my life.
The team has done alright on and off the field. The press has died down and accepted the fact that the Tigers are climbing the ranks despite the setbacks at the beginning of the season. Finn’s shoulder is continuing to give him a problem, but I’ve got a video call today with Bodhi that could solve Finn’s problem. I just hope Bodhi’s calling to give me the green light, and not throw another wrench into this team.
A knock on my door pulls my attention back to the present. “It’s open,” I call, leaning back in my chair and sliding my laptop to the side to make room on my desk.
Brooke stalks into my office, her heels clicking against the tile in rapid succession as she drops another tabloid onto my desk. There’s the image of my altercation after our first game, the one of Ana and me at the airport, and a blown-up one of me looking across the sideline to Ana. The headline reads ‘The Callahan Crisis - midlife or something more?’
Brady slips into the room and closes the door. “We have some fires that need to be addressed now.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. “I have a call in fifteen minutes. How big are these fires?” I ask, sliding the tabloid away from me. I still can’t look at Ana’s picture without feeling the painful twist in my heart.
“We’re out a doctor,” Brady says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I got the call this morning.”
“What happened to Ana?” I ask, panic curling around my spine. Did she quit without talking to me first? Does she really want to get away from me that badly? A million questions race through my mind, making me dizzy.
Brady clears his throat and cuts his eyes to Brooke. “Ana is still here, although her position was temporary. She was filling in until Susan came back from maternity leave.”
“Right,” I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “So…”
“Susan isn’t coming back,” Brooke cuts in smoothly, bracing her hands on my desk to lean forward and capture my attention. “We need a permanent doctor. Dr. Bellows is the obvious choice, but I need to know what this is about.” She taps a finger against the tabloid images. “What’s going on?”
I inhale deeply, leaning back in the chair to get away from the pictures and the painful memories they hold. “Nothing is going on. We’ve had a few… altercations… but you know how the media can spin an image to fit their agenda.”
Brady takes a step forward, his expression stoic. “It’s not against the rules, per se, Graham, but we need to know to get ahead of any HR problems.”
“It ended before it even started,” I mutter bitterly. “That’s all you need to know.”
Brooke nods, gathering up the magazine and tucking it under her arm. Her eyes narrow and I can feel her glare eating away at my resolve, but what’s there to tell? It truly had ended before we even started.
“Are you talking with Bodhi today?” Brady asks, watching me check the clock again.
“Yes. I have a call scheduled for now.” I pull my laptop out and open the webpage. “Is that everything?” I ask without looking up.
Brooke purses her lips, still glaring at me. “That’s everything right now.”
“Tell Bodhi I said to make a decision,” Brady calls as he opens the door. “Oh! Dr. Bellows, I’m sorry.”
Just the sound of her name makes my body tighten.
My eyes shoot up and collide with hers and I can see the shimmer of tears on her lashes. I stand, unsure who to address first. “Did you need me?” I ask, hating how hopeful I sound.
“It can wait,” she responds and steps to the side to let Brady and Brooke pass.
Brooke tosses me a hard look over her shoulder before she follows Brady out of the office.
Ana shifts on her feet, lingering in the doorway with a deep frown. How long had she been outside the door? Shit. Had she heard the conversation with Brooke? If she had heard it, there was no way she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “Is everything okay?” I ask cautiously, taking a step around my desk.
She stiffens and takes a step back, her face morphing into a mask of indifference. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Take your meeting with Bodhi.” She turns on her heels and walks away.
Fuck.
She heard.
I drop back down into my chair with a groan, logging into the meeting that I’m now late for.
Bodhi’s face appears on the screen, his long hair twisted into a bun on top of his head. He’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt and a crimson red tie. “Hello, Mr. Callahan!” He smiles broadly, flashing his white teeth and dimples.
“Donovan,” I greet him cooly. “I’m hoping you have some good news for me. Mr. Manson wanted me to remind you that the clock is ticking.”
He smirks, his cheeks turning slightly pink at the call-out. “I know. I know,” he responds, pulling on the collar of his shirt. “It’s a big decision and I needed time to weigh all my options, but I think I’ve made my final decision.”
I steeple my fingers in front of my lips to hide my smirk. He doesn’t have a good poker face and I know where this conversation is going. Finally, something is going right. “Well, are you going to disclose this decision or are you going to keep me waiting?”
“No, Sir,” he chuckles slightly. “I would be honored to wear a Tigers jersey and play for your team.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I drop my hands and smile at the young man on the screen. “I’ll have Brady start getting a contract together. We’ll be in touch. Oh and Bodhi, Don’t bring a lot of old emotions with you to the city. This is a fresh start. Don’t screw it up.”
Bodhi’s shoulders tense and his smile falters, but he composes himself moments later. “I don’t plan on it, Sir.”
“Good. See you soon.”
I walk into the crowded bar, eyes searching for Brady and Nicholas and finding them at a pool table in the back corner. Brady waves me over before setting up for his next move. “Brady. Nick.” I greet them with a nod.
“How did the call with Donovan go?” Nick asks, watching Brady sink a striped ball into the corner pocket with a load CRACK!
I gesture for the bartender to bring us three beers. “He’s in,” I say without preamble. “We just need a signed contract and get him here.”
“Fantastic!” Brady slaps his palm against the wooden edge of the pool table. “Well done, Graham.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I argue, taking the beers and handing one to each of them.
“Now we just need to figure out this doctor position and we’ll be golden,” Brady says and leans against the high-top table as Nick knocks the cue ball against a group of solids in the far corner.
“Right,” I mumble against the rim of my bottle. The energy in the room shifts suddenly. My skin tightens and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I know before I turn my head that she’s here.
“Ana!” Brady calls with a warm smile. “I’m glad you were able to get out of the office for a while!”
My spine stiffens and my knuckles go white around my bottle as her light voice caresses my senses. I cut my eyes to her, trying to avoid fully looking at her and notice that her smile is warm and easy. Her body language is relaxed as she approaches Brady. She hasn’t seen me yet.
“Luckily the boys are listening to recommendations so I don’t have that many messes to clean up,” she responds with a laugh.
My heart twists at the sound, and I almost drop my beer as the pain jolts through me. This is a terrible idea, and I need to get out now. Maybe I can slip away before she notices I’m here.
“Graham was just telling us that we just got ourselves another scrum-half,” Nick states and leans against his pool stick.
Ana’s body stiffens at the sound of my name and she whirls around, eyes scanning the room. When they find mine, I can see the momentary pain and desperation in them. It’s a mirror of my own. I hold up my bottle, trying to act unperturbed. “Bodhi said yes this afternoon. We just need him to sign on the dotted line.” I hope my voice is calmer than I feel.
She nods once, averting her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. She looks uncomfortable now, and it makes me feel terrible.
I pull two pool sticks from their holder on the wall and approach her slowly like I’m walking up to a cornered tiger. “Hey,” I say gently, holding a stick out to her. “Want to play?”
She looks at the stick like it’s going to reach over and bite her. “That’s probably a bad idea,” she mutters and takes a step back.
“It’s just a game,” I coax her, taking a step forward. “Just two people playing a game of pool after work. Nothing more.” We could do that, couldn’t we?
“No,” she shakes her head and her lips twitch. “I just mean I’m not very good.”
I arch a brow. “Something you’re not good at?” I tease, unable to help myself. “I’d like to see that.”
“Fine,” she snaps and finishes her drink, slamming the empty glass onto the table. “But I warned you.” She takes the stick from me and moves around to the cue ball. “So if I get a stripey ball in, I’m stripes?”
I nod and lean my hip against the edge of the pool table, watching her lean forward and aim at the triangle of balls. “Are you aiming for a stripey ball?” I tease, chuckling under my breath. My cock twitches behind my zipper as her hips sway and her tongue pokes out the corner of her mouth. Her brows furrow in deep concentration, and it’s the single most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“No. I’m shooting solids,” she responds and lets the tip of the stick connect to the cue ball, sending it hurtling and crashing into the group. Balls fly across the table so fast I can’t keep up with them all, but I do see a solid ball sink into the corner pocket. Her eyes cut up to me and a devilish smirk turns up her lips as she straightens and chalks the end of her stick.
It’s in that moment that I know I’ve fucked up.
“You’re sneaky,” I chuckle and cue up, sending the white ball into a group of striped balls.
Her eyes flash and she shrugs her shoulders. Her body is still tense like she’s on guard, but it’s not like it has been. “Just didn’t think you’d still be interested if you knew you’d get beat by a girl.”
I take a step toward her, her body practically vibrating. It takes all my self-control not to haul her against my chest and kiss the sass from her lips. “I’m still interested,” I growl, my voice dropping low.
She arches a brow, catching the double meaning of my words, and squares her shoulders. She’s not backing down. “Good,” she whispers and lines up her shot, sending another two solid balls into opposite pockets. “Because we’re nowhere near done.”
I practically preen at her words, knowing fully well that she's no longer talking about the game of pool. The front of my trousers become unbearably tight as she leans across the table in front of me. She looks over her shoulder, smirking as she catches me staring.
My mind is reeling from her change in demeanor, and I can't help the small kernel of hope that begins to blossom in my chest. If this woman is going to be the death of me, I'll gladly take my last breath inhaling her intoxicating scent.