Chapter 13
Ainsley
“What the hell is wrong with your neck?”
I tip my head to the right and dig my fingers into the left side of my neck. “I was going through some boxes in the garage yesterday, and one of them fell. I tried to catch it, but I tweaked my neck.”
Raymond grimaces. “You want some of that cooling cream I have?”
“It’s fine. It’ll work itself out in a day or two.” I lift the remote and press pause. “Right there. See that, Dominique? Great execution, killer instincts. When you get out of your head, you play great.”
Dominique nods, jotting down notes as I talk.
“Hey.” I reach over and flip her notebook closed. “Forget the notebook. Look at me.”
She lifts her brown eyes to mine, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose.
“You have it inside of you. You just need to believe it. Believe in yourself and your abilities. You wouldn’t have this spot on the team if we didn’t think you deserved it.”
She nods and offers me a sheepish smile. “I don’t know how to gain more confidence. That’s always been hard for me.”
“It’ll come with experience,” Raymond says.
“But don’t doubt your abilities on the field.” I lean forward, gazing at all of the girls in the media room. “No one is going to give you permission. If you see an opportunity, take it. Commit. The hesitation and the second-guessing will kill you.”
I feel better about Saturday’s loss after going through today’s tape. Everything that went wrong can be worked on, and if we had a different referee, the opposing team wouldn’t have gotten so many free shots on us. It was a productive afternoon, and I feel good.
Aside from my stupid neck.
Landon goes over a few minor things from the JV game, and then we dismiss the kids for the evening.
I wince as I sling my duffle bag onto my shoulder.
Landon’s eyebrow arches. “You don’t look good.”
“Neither do you.”
“Not what I meant.” He shakes his head, a smirk curving the corner of his lips. “What happened to your neck?”
“It’s fine.” I wave to Raymond and Quinn as they follow the teams out into the hallway. “I just tweaked it.”
“I can take a look at it if you want. You might be out of alignment.”
My eyes widen as I feign terror. “And give you control over my spinal cord? No, thanks.”
“I’m a professional.” He puffs out his chest. “I know what I’m doing.”
I shake my head, and then clutch the side of my neck. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Landon slides the strap of my bag off my shoulder and strides ahead of me, carrying my duffle with his own. “Let’s go.”
“I said I’m fine.” I speed up to walk beside him. “Give me back my bag.”
“Stop being so stubborn for once in your life. Maybe that’s why your neck is so tight.”
“You don’t know anything about my neck.”
He pushes open the door to the main entrance of the school, and heads for the parking lot. “I know you’re high-strung and wound as tight as a drum.”
“Tight as a drum?” My nose scrunches. “What’s with you and these idioms? You sound like an old man.”
He chuckles as he clicks the button on his key fob to unlock his Explorer before swinging open the passenger door.
“You’re opening doors for me?” I bat my eyelashes. “My Prince Charming.”
He rolls his eyes. “Can’t you let someone do something nice for you?”
“Someone? Sure. You? No.”
He slams the door shut. “Fine. Good luck with your neck.” He shoves my duffle into my chest and mumbles something about me being a pain in his ass as he rounds the front bumper.
“I’ll meet you there,” I blurt out.
I can’t believe I’m letting this man work on my neck, but I’m desperate. This shit hurts.
Five minutes later, I pull into the spot beside Landon at the front of the physical therapy clinic.
I’ve never been inside this place, but dozens of players have cycled through over the last couple of years.
Our sports program has a good rapport with the new owner—Quinn’s sister, Sloane—and she always welcome our athletes.
Landon heads inside, letting the door close in my face before I can reach it. I chuckle to myself as I yank it open and follow him in.
The receptionist greets me with a bright smile. “Hi, Ainsley.”
“Hey, Nancy. I’m with him.” I jerk my thumb in the direction of Landon. “Unfortunately.”
“I heard that,” he calls from several feet ahead.
“I meant you to.”
Nancy shakes her head as she smiles. “Nothing has changed since you two were teenagers.”
Not sure that’s such a good thing.
“Here comes trouble.” Sloane Whitaker smiles as I enter the therapy room. I’ve met her a bunch of times, and she’s cool. She comes out to games and helps stretch players on the sidelines.
And I make fun of Evan because of the way he stares at her when he thinks no one is watching. She’s ten years younger than him, and way too sweet for his old, grumpy ass.
I scoff, giving Sloane’s shoulder a playful shove. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“She hurt her neck.” Landon pats an empty table, gesturing for me to get on top. “Unfortunately, her mouth still works.”
An old lady on the arm bike cackles. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Mr. Fletcher.”
I grin as I round Landon’s table. “You should’ve seen the way he slammed the door in my face just now walking in here.”
“Don’t listen to her, Annette. She’s full of lies.”
Sloane giggles from the other side of the room. “This is going to be fun.”
“Sloane, I need you to keep an eye on him while he’s working on me. If anything looks fishy, or if he looks like he’s about to snap my neck, I’m gonna need you to step in and save me.”
Landon rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to snap your neck. You’re so dramatic.”
I heave a sigh and glance at the padded table. “How do you want me?”
Both of our heads snap up and we lock eyes.
“I immediately regret my choice of words.”
A confident smile splits his face. “Sure, you do.”
“Okay, I’m out.” I pivot on my heels.
“I’m joking.” He tugs on my elbow. “Lay on your back. Loosen your pony tail a little and maybe you won’t be so damn uptight.”
“Annette, cover your eyes.” I hold up my middle finger in his face.
She grins, the wrinkles crinkling around her eyes. “I like you. You’ve got spunk.”
“Some would call it rude,” Landon says, rolling over a low stool. “But yeah, let’s go with spunk.”
I slide onto the maroon pad and lower onto my back, blinking up at the florescent lights above. My stomach twists as nerves kick in. “Is this going to hurt?”
Landon waggles devious eyebrows. “Depends on your pain tolerance.”
I push off the table to get up, but Landon’s giant hand pushes my shoulder back down.
“I’m kidding. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
“Please stop with the sexual innuendos.”
“Your mind is the only one in the gutter right now.”
I grunt and focus on the speckled boards of the drop ceiling.
Landon rolls his chair to the edge of the table and takes my head into his hands.
Being this close to him, his face hovering mere inches from mine, is an intimacy we haven’t shared in a long time.
I take him in, this older version; the shape of his square jawline, the fullness of his lips, the contrast between his light skin and dark features.
Landon is handsome, there’s no denying it.
Despite his obnoxious personality.
“So, what were you doing when you tweaked your neck?” His voice is low. Soothing almost, like we’re having a private conversation no one else can hear.
“I was trying to go through some old boxes in the garage. They’re piled so damn high, and one of them toppled over.”
“That’ll do it.” He digs his fingertips into each side of my neck, massaging the tight muscles there in slow circles. “Find what you were looking for in there?”
“I’m just trying to organize all the clutter. I haven’t touched any of it since my dad passed, and I need to figure out whether or not I’m selling the house so I figured the garage was the best place to start.”
His eyebrows jump. “You’d sell your parents’ house?”
His fingers hit the spot where it hurts, and pain shoots through to my shoulder. “Ow. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Breathe.” He lessens the pressure on the sore spot. “What’s making you think you want to sell it?”
“It’s falling apart, and needs a lot of work. I might be better off selling it and getting something smaller for myself.”
“Depends on what needs to be done. Might be better to repair it and turn it into your own. Either way, you’ll need to fix it up a bit before putting it on the market.”
My stomach churns at the idea of random people parading through the house I grew up in, judging it, or conjuring up ways to change it.
My father built the porch swing for my mother when she was pregnant with me. My mother painted the kitchen a pale-yellow because it was her favorite color. We carved our initials into the oak tree out front, and marked off my height each year in my bedroom closet.
Tears sting my eyes at the thought of losing it all.
I blink a few times, willing away the unexpected emotion. “These lights are really bright. You should consider getting something to dim them for your patients.”
Landon’s head tilts. “That’s actually a good idea.”
The conversation dies as he works on me, and I’m grateful. He’s entirely too close and can see too much.
I close my eyes, and let the stress and worry roll off my shoulders for just a moment. Landon’s strong hands feel good, digging into knots and relieving the pressure in my muscles.
He presses his fingers into the base of my skull, giving it a light pull. I let out a mix between an exhale and a moan. “That feels amazing.”
“Now look who’s making this sexual,” he whispers.
My eyes shoot open as I glare at him.
He chuckles, pleased with himself as always. “Relax. Lower your shoulders.”
“Then stop making me angry.”
“Everything makes you angry.”
“Only when I’m with you.”
“You love it.”
I bite my tongue, forgoing a retort. Bickering with Landon seems to scratch an itch no one else can, and I can’t begin to understand why.
He turns my head to the left, and positions it in a specific way that’s slightly uncomfortable. Then he taps on the right side of my forehead. “Push up into my hand and hold it there.”
I do as he says, and let up when he tells me to.
“Good. Again.”
After the second time, something feels different in my neck. “What was that?”
“It’s a muscle energy technique. You were out of alignment, like I thought. That should help.” He pushes up from his seat and holds out his hand. “Let’s get you up.”
As he pulls me to sit upright, he lifts one half of the table and secures it so I can lean back against it. “One of the aides will set you up with some heat. You should be good to go after that.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
After the aide sets the timer for five minutes, I sit under a warm heating pad and watch Landon move to the next patient. Everyone smiles at him like he hung the moon—they always have. He’s personable, and he’s a great listener. He seems like the same boy I once knew, before everything fell apart.
Funny how I’ve forgotten all the things I used to like about him.
It makes me wonder what happened in his life during all the years we spent apart.
How was college?
Did he have a girlfriend there?
What was the lacrosse team like?
What did I miss out on by staying behind?
I’m lost in my thoughts when the beep of the timer pierces the air, bringing me back to reality.
Landon strides over and lifts the heating pad, laying it on the end of the table. “I’ll walk you out.”
Sloane shoots me a wink as I wave goodbye, and the cool air hits my skin as I step through the door. Sucking in a lungful of the salty scent, I blink up at the sky. Pretty hues of pink and orange swirl together as the sun makes its descent.
“That house is all you have left of your parents,” Landon says.
I nod, keeping my gaze focused on the sunset.
Those keen eyes of his continue staring at me, demanding to know what I’m thinking.
“I never went away to college like you did.” I turn to face him. “Maybe I shouldn’t keep the house so I can move somewhere else. Leave this place and travel. See the world.”
His eyebrows lift. “Is that what you want to do? Get out of town?”
I shrug, and my neck doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. “Neck feels better.”
“Glad I could help.” He clears his throat. “I could also help with the house, you know.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I dig into my purse for my keys. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“Doesn’t have to be like that.”
I roll my lips between my teeth. “I prefer it that way.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
My eyes flick away from his accusatory gaze. “See you at practice tomorrow.”
Landon stands on the sidewalk watching me until I pull away.