Chapter 3
Isabelle
I pinned my cell phone between my chin and shoulder as I pushed open the double doors to the Lightning training faculty, smiling
politely at the receptionist.
“I thought you had the day off,” Selena’s voice admonished through my phone. “I was gonna bring you lunch.”
I did have the day off until I got a call from Dr. Reinhold. He was still away and needed someone to cover his follow-ups.
With the team’s offseason in the summer, these were the last few before training camp in a couple months.
“Don’t change the subject on me. What do you mean you invited press to your wedding?” I asked. Selena worked in public relations and knew how to manage a crisis, but now that
she was marrying into a high-profile family, the press had become a menace for her.
“I’m inviting one magazine. The reporter Malcolm Parks is supposed to be pretty good with privacy and discretion. Giving Voulez Magazine exclusivity should dry up demand from paps.”
“And how exactly did you manage that?”
“Long story. One I was going to tell you because I thought you had the day off!” Selena repeated.
“I did, but . . .” I trailed off, walking down the hall toward the back of the training facility.
Normally routine follow-ups would have been handed off to a physician assistant, but I was happy Dr. Reinhold trusted me with
it. And he was writing my recommendation for the Winthrop fellowship, so I couldn’t exactly say no.
Even though I was enjoying this sports medicine rotation and the research I’d done in it, I’d never been a fan of soccer.
And now all it did was remind me of Blake, because he loved it. But this was my way to the Winthrop fellowship, so I’d deal with it.
“I volunteered,” I answered and stopped mid-stride when I walked into what seemed to be a heated discussion between two players
in the hallway—Blaine and Landon.
Just as I stopped, Blaine’s fist connected with Landon’s face. Landon hit the ground a second later and, just as he stood
with the clear intention to retaliate, Austin Cade burst in from the opposite end of the hallway and pulled them apart. He
stood between them, breathing hard and grimacing like an exhausted big brother.
“I gotta go.” I hung up and tucked my phone in my pocket.
Blaine pushed Austin out from between them and skulked off. Austin let out a controlled breath, then looked menacingly at
Landon, pointing for him to go into one of the exam rooms.
I followed a few steps behind and got situated to make sure Landon wasn’t too badly hurt.
Noticing my entrance, Landon sat down on an exam table and leaned his head toward me, letting me grip his chin firmly as I flashed a penlight at one pupil at time. “You’re lucky. An inch to the left and we’d be calling optho for an emergency surgery.”
He sat with his arms tightly crossed and a scowl on his face, showing no remorse for his actions. I wasn’t around the team
all that much since I was only here for research, but I knew that this grumpy midfielder—or whatever his position was—had
been in altercations before. Dr. Reinhold had warned me about him.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” Landon spat out.
I heard an exhausted sigh from Austin behind me.
“When I walked in, I heard you say some . . . interesting things about his girlfriend.” I ran the penlight over his eye one
last time. “How did you think that would go?”
“I didn’t think he’d freak out.” Landon rolled his good eye, because the other one was swelling up more with each passing
minute.
Something shuffled behind me. I flicked a glance over my shoulder and saw that Austin was about to walk out. “You. Sit.”
I turned back to look at Landon’s eye but used my left hand to point at the other elevated exam table in the PT room.
“I’m fine,” Austin answered.
Blaine had shoved Austin when he got in between the two and I was sure I’d seen him wince when he landed hard on the injured
leg. It was probably nothing, but I didn’t miss anything. And Dr. Reinhold didn’t trust many residents to work directly with the team, so I wasn’t going to let
anything happen on my watch.
“That knee was repaired at the hands of a master. Show some respect and sit down.”
He didn’t say anything, but I heard another sigh, followed by the crinkle of the plastic covering on the exam table.
“It was a lucky shot,” Landon mumbled as I checked his nasal bridge for damage.
“Good aim for a lucky shot,” I quipped back with a little more heat in my voice than intended.
I’d already been in a sour mood before the fight broke out. Before Selena called, I was spiraling about Blake again. This
time I had tried to rationalize the pain away. I couldn’t possibly still love him, right? How could I, if I hadn’t seen him
in over a year? We’d always said we’d give it a try, a real one, if ever he moved back, but we also agreed to date other people
in between. We had both known something like this might happen.
But the more I’d tried dating random people, the more I felt like it was supposed to be Blake.
He understood me. He understood what it meant to have sky-high expectations both for yourself and from your family. We didn’t
need to sacrifice our ambitions for each other. At least, that’s what I’d assumed.
“Okay.” Turning Landon’s chin a couple more times to get a final look at his eye, I confirmed there wasn’t any serious damage.
“You look fine.”
“And so do y—”
“Landon,” Austin barked in warning from behind me.
His gruff, protective tone filled my memory with a TV clip I’d seen right before the Olympics a few years ago. The one that made every American woman collectively swoon.
It showed the American Footballer, Austin Cade, descending the steps of the team jet with an infant in a car seat tucked under
his arm, held protectively close to his body, staring down the press like he’d personally vet every molecule of air the baby
breathed, daring anyone to get too close.
My body warmed thinking about it.
I clicked the penlight off and dismissed Landon. “Ice, ibuprofen, and a little more self-control next time.”
I turned on my heel and walked to the other exam table. My schedule may have been crazy, and residency may have taken up too
much of my life, but the actual work had a way of making me forget about all those awful truths.
As Landon slammed the door closed, I said to Austin, “I appreciate the chivalry, but I’m more than capable of defending—”
“My goddaughter is in the building, and you never know when she’s in earshot,” Austin whispered conspiratorially, bracing
both arms on the table as he leaned just slightly forward.
I nodded. The infant from that car seat years ago was now the kid that I’d occasionally see running around here. A little
girl with jet-black hair and giant brown eyes who looked at Austin like he brought up the sun every morning.
“So . . . where is she?” I was never great with kids, but even I had to admit it was sweet.
“Joseen is kicking a ball around on the field with her mom.”
With that, we went through the same drills Austin probably did on a daily basis with his physical therapist and Dr. Reinhold, checking the joints, muscles, and ligaments for strength and resistance.
I sat down at the small workstation in between the two exam tables and wrote a quick note on both Landon’s and Austin’s files
for Dr. Reinhold. “Well, everything looks fine.”
“Sorry for the interruption to your work.”
“I don’t mind, really.” I could spend hours in an OR filled with people, but it was as good as being alone. When I concentrated
on my work, everything else went quiet. Best of all, when I started operating, it was like an out-of-body experience. Nothing
mattered but the tool in my hand and the task in front of me.
I enjoyed my research, but I found myself enjoying the days I filled in for Dr. Reinhold, too. Once I started the fellowship,
I wouldn’t be as hands-on with patients, so I was taking it all in while I could.
Austin let out an exhausted laugh. “Landon’s a good kid, but he’s all fight some days.”
I smiled. When I’d first met Austin, he’d seemed a little standoffish, but that was probably just because he was frustrated
about his injury. It didn’t take much to see he was very much the big brother of the team. Older. More mature. Willing to
be patient with people.
“You sound like a coach,” I said.
Trevor had told me coaching was probably in Austin’s future. He definitely had the patience that coaches tended to have.
He was quiet for a beat, his eyes lost in thought, before he looked up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah . . .” I shrugged. “But I don’t like soccer, remember? So I wouldn’t hinge any career decision on my limited knowledge of team sports.”
He chuckled and hopped off the exam table. “Thanks, Doc.”
I nodded as Austin left and I checked the time. I still had a lot more to do before I could head to Selena’s. I’d try to be
quick about it and make up for lost time. Just a few more tasks, then I’d go.