Quitting the Quarterback (The Nash Brothers #4)

CHAPTER 20 Cassie Fields

I Still Thought His Name Was Miller

Of all the orthopedic clinics in San Diego, the Storm had to choose this one.

Of course they did. It’s the best.

And now their star quarterback is in our care. It’s up to us to help guide his pre-op work and post-op recovery.

What are my options? Tell Dr. Hayward I had a one-night stand with him, and he’s a liar, so I can’t work with him?

I just got this job. I can’t afford to lose it. I can’t afford anything messing it up, which is why I forced myself not to make eye contact with the liar and kept my head down when I saw him in that exam room.

I had no idea that he was the football player I slept with. None. Until I saw him in the exam room with his twin brother in the same room, I still thought his name was Miller.

Apparently, at least according to his records, it’s Tanner. Tanner Banks, all-star quarterback for the San Diego Storm.

Dr. Hayward isn’t going to give me this VIP patient. He’ll take the lead on this, and even if he doesn’t, he has other physical therapists at this practice who would give anything to be the ones to build their careers working with the famous football star.

But I suppose I can say the same. I can keep it professional. It may not be ethical to work with him since, well, I have intimate knowledge of his naked body.

But I know how to remain objective. I know how to treat him with respect—even if I wasn’t treated the same way.

I shadow Dr. Hayward with his other patients, but I can’t stop thinking about this guy. First I thought he was Grayson Nash, and then Miller Banks…and now I know the truth.

“Cassie?” one of the receptionists says to me as I pass behind the reception desk toward the end of the day.

I stop and raise my brows. “Yes?”

“There’s a call for you on line four.”

“Thanks.” I rush to my cubicle and grab the call, nervous it’s about one of my kids…though I’m not sure why the school would call me at work and not on my cell phone.

“Cassie Fields,” I answer.

“So you’re a physical therapist?” The rich, deep voice is familiar, though the last time I really heard it string together so many words, it was as he rasped it in my ear as he moved inside of me.

God, I have got to get a handle on this. That’s not even true. It was at breakfast before I walked away without looking back…when he brought me a pumpkin spice latte and muffins.

I clear my throat. “Is there something you need?”

He barks out a laugh, and that is not what I meant.

I sigh.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

About what? I wonder, but I don’t ask. I’m too scared to ask. “No.”

“Excuse me?” he says. “I’m your patient. ”

“You’re not under my care. I’d be happy to have Dr. Hayward give you a call.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he says.

“I do,” I say, and I glance around. I want to yell at him that using my work line to trap me isn’t fair. Tammy, another physical therapist, is sitting two chairs down from me, and I know she can hear everything I’m saying. I need to be careful how I tackle this. “I can take down your number and get back to you.”

The words slip out before I can stop them. I don’t want to get back to him.

But I also want to draw a clear line in the sand, and maybe the only way to do that is to talk to him outside of the office and clarify the expectations up front.

“Fine.” He rattles off his number even though I still have that little piece of paper with the same number written on it at home, and I jot it down. This is probably a huge mistake, but I’m not sure what else to do.

“I’ll get back to you soon.” I end the call before he can ask any other questions, and I stare down at the number I just scribbled down.

I’m angry that he lied to me. I’m angry that he’s here. I’m angry that he’s going to try to mess up this job for me.

I can’t let that happen, and I intend to be very clear about that when we talk.

The only problem is…I don’t know when to call him. I know I won’t get to call him until after I get the kids down. There just isn’t time.

I get off work at three, pray there’s no traffic, and race over to bus pickup only to pull in right behind the bus. The kids get off and run to my car, and I drive through the neighborhood to get them home, that sense of dread building with every passing moment .

We do homework. Luca has baseball practice, during which I do my best to entertain Lily. We head home, and I whip up dinner. Then Luca needs to read to me for twenty minutes while Lily takes her bath. I read her a few books and get her to bed, and Luca and I watch this show he likes where an archeologist digs to uncover mysteries of the past together before I get him to bed.

I try my hardest not to rush things, but I’m nervous about this call.

And so, once both babies are down and the house is quiet, I pour myself a glass of wine and head into my bedroom.

I light a candle and stare at the flame flickering for a few minutes as I think through exactly what I want to say.

And then I pick up my phone and dial his number. My fingers tremble as I click the green button to place the call, and I listen to the ringing tone as I wait for him to answer.

“Hello?” It’s the same voice, and I’m glad I’m sitting on my bed, leaning against the headboard, because my knees are a little weak as I hear it.

“It’s Cassie.”

“Cass,” he says, his voice all deep and sexy when he says it, and I’m immediately transported back to the bed we shared as he moaned my name, sort of like when you hear a song that reminds you of a specific moment in your life. Only hotter, obviously.

I clear my throat and take a big sip of my wine to steel my nerves. It really doesn’t work.

“Why did you lie to me?” I ask.

He’s quiet a beat, and then he says, “What?”

“You lied about who you were. Why?”

“I never lied to you,” he says. He does sound genuinely confused.

“Yes, you did. You let me think you were Grayson Nash. ”

“What? When?” he asks.

“The bartender said it’s on the house for Grayson Nash, and then I asked if you were a football player, and you said yes.”

“I am a football player. Well, I was…until I fucked up my knee. But where’s the lie?”

“You let me think you were Grayson,” I say.

“I let the bartender think I was Grayson. It was a free drink.”

I can picture him shrugging as he says the words.

“You led me to believe you were someone you weren’t.”

“I had no idea you didn’t know who I was,” he protests. “I never lied to you. I thought you knew who I was when you asked if I played football. But if we’re going to talk about liars, let’s take a look at you, Ms. Fields.”

“When did I lie?” I ask, my voice both defensive and loud. Much louder than I mean for it to be.

“Oh, I don’t know…how about the fact that you’re married with kids?”

“I’m not married!” I yell. “I just got divorced, and I can send you the proof if you don’t believe me. But how the hell do you know about my kids?”

“I saw you. You were there at training camp with two kids.”

I blow out a breath. “You saw me?”

“Yeah. I was about to head over to sign shit for fans when a little kid throwing a tantrum caught my attention. I glanced at the mom, and imagine my surprise when it was you . The woman who couldn’t be bothered to use my number after the night we shared.”

My stomach flips. “That aside…yeah. I have kids. That’s why I didn’t use your number. I’d never had a one-night stand before, but I’m not na?ve enough to think the big football star ever wanted to see the mom from San Diego again. What happens in Vegas, and all that. ”

“I did,” he insists. “You’re all I’ve thought about since that night. It’s why I was distracted on Sunday.”

“Excuse me?” I squeal. “Are you blaming me for your injury?”

“No. That’s not what I meant. I just mean…fuck.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t really know what I meant, but you fucked me up, Cass.”

“Me? I’m just a mom trying to support my children post-divorce, and that’s why I got a job with my old boss after eight years out of the field. I’m doing the best I can, and the only one who fucked anyone up was you. By lying to me.”

“I never lied!” he yells.

“I don’t know a goddamn thing about you. I don’t even know your name other than what I saw on the records,” I say.

“That’s my name. Tanner Banks. I’m all fucked up because I learned the man I thought was my dad my entire life isn’t. I’m a Nash biologically, so yes, Grayson Nash is my half-brother, and yes, I got mistaken for him when I was at a club in Vegas and I had a hat on. It is what it is. I’m sorry you were standing there. I’m sorry it was a case of mistaken identity. I’m sorry I didn’t push harder to get your number that night, but something changed for me, Cass, and I don’t know what, but I need to see you again.”

“I can’t, Tanner.” It’s the first time I’ve used his name, and to be honest…it’s hot. Not that it matters. “That’s why I called. I have professional obligations, and you’re a patient now—and likely for the next year. I can’t be with you as anything more than that.”

“Then I’ll switch practices and work with someone else.”

“Dr. Hayward and Dr. Barlow are the best in the entire Southwest. It would be stupid for you to do that,” I say.

He’s silent on the other end, and I’m not sure what else to say .

“I guess I’ll see you at your appointment tomorrow,” I say.

“Don’t hang up,” he says softly, and I feel a twinge in my chest. Why doesn’t he want me to hang up? What is it about me that he’s hanging onto?

“Why not?” I ask quietly.

“Because you were different. Hell, you didn’t even know who I was until I walked into the office. You were genuine. You were kind. Sweet, even. I just…it’s rare to meet someone like that doing what I do. That’s all. It feels like everyone’s always lying to me, telling me what I want to hear, and you didn’t do that. You were real with me.”

“Yeah…but you weren’t real with me. I didn’t even know who you were,” I point out.

“Then let me fix that.”

“I can’t. Not when I’m fixing your knee. Look, it’s important for me to be financially independent from my ex-husband. It’s important to me for my kids to see their mom working hard to achieve her goals. I can’t let some football star mess that up for me.”

No matter how much I want him.

My kids will always come first.

“I’ll see you at your session tomorrow,” I say, and I end the call.