126. Yoga Rodeo
YOGA RODEO
LIVY
“Thank you, Dr. Silverberg.”
“If you change your mind, Livy, let me know. You’ll always be welcome to come back to the team.”
“I appreciate that. On a personal note, I want you to know how much I appreciate you and your kindness during my tenure there. On and off the field. Please pass my thanks to Georgia too.”
“No thanks needed. We really like you.”
“I can hear the office filling up. I’m wearing team colors and ready to cheer. Get the W, okay?”
“Will do. See you soon.”
We disconnect, both knowing that last part isn’t true.
Hands slide around my waist as I stand looking over the back lawn of my new home and watch Kyle roll in the grass. “How did it go?”
I let one tear fall and wait until my voice won’t break to add, “Fine. He was just as kind as he always is. So gracious. I’m welcome back if I ever want my job.”
Layton stiffens behind me. “I love that you’re here. I feel like an ass for asking you to leave your job for me. If I didn’t know you were it for me, I wouldn’t have asked. You know that, right?”
How does he do it? Every time he balances what I need and what I want.
I turn in the circle of his arms. “You know I’m it for you?”
He growls. “You’re baiting me. But I’ll tell you anyway.
You, Livy Morgan, are strong, smart, and sexy as fuck.
You hold your own with me, call me on my shit, and challenge me to be a better man.
You want me. The me who is ornery, broken, and completely unmanageable.
You aren’t about my money, my last name, or what my family can do for you.
I plan to give you the world, Pix, despite the fact that you’d never ask for it.
Hell, you wouldn’t agree to bathing suits.
I hope you never go back there. And for only one reason, it would mean that you gave up on me. And I won’t let that happen.”
He looks over my head and makes a confused face. “I managed to lose your behemoth of a dog.”
We push open the French doors into the warm September day. “Kyle? Kyle.”
We find him on the second step of the pool, cooling his body in the water.
“It could be worse,” I start, biting my lip.
“He could be long-haired,” Layton finishes my thought.
“Well, I’d say he’s made himself at home.”
“Good.”
Brighton: I should’ve checked Kyle while y’all were here yesterday. Can I come by tomorrow and look at his incision? Should be time to remove those stitches if it’s healing well.
Me: Come on. And bring your suit. We spend half the day in the pool.
Brighton: Perfect. Tell Layton I’m bringing the Jeep. He promised me a top down, doors off drive. I haven’t forgotten.
Me: Will do. See you tomorrow.
We don’t watch the game that night. We haven’t watched a single one since I arrived in Texas. We do spend the evening on the back patio once the sun goes down. I read on my tablet while he texts someone from his phone.
We end the night—our first together—tangled up in each other, drifting in and out of sleep, as Kyle’s light snores lull us.
“Tell me a secret, Pix.” Layton mumbles into my hair as he pulls me deeper into his body.
I don’t know if he’s awake when I offer my answer. “Our life feels too easy. It scares me... like I’ll wake up and discover it’s all been just a dream.”
Layton
The off-season has always meant rise and grind for me. Maybe a day here or there when I took a day off or went light on myself but I could never allow myself to have an on-season life and an off-season one. Getting into shape was and is way harder than staying in shape.
I’m learning that lesson all over again. Fat and sloppy? No. Weak and out of shape? Most certainly yes.
My nutrition is nonexistent. I’ve eaten enough to keep the meds down and my family off my back. My nutrient-dense, high-protein, nutritionist-planned and portioned diet is so far in the rearview that I can’t imagine eating that much or that often at all.
But I know someone who can help.
Me: Do you do Zoom or some kind of online sessions?
Mrs. Turner: For you? Of course.
Me: I’d ask you to come by, but I’m out of state.
Mrs. Turner: I figured when I heard about your retirement.
Me: I may have another client for you, too, with different goals.
Mrs. Turner: I’ll send some appointment options. Choose the one(s) that work best.
Me: Will do. Thanks!
“You’ve been on your phone quite a bit.” Livy wanders into the kitchen. She carries a used tea cup and her yoga mat. “I forgot to tell you… your sister is coming by today to check on Kyle. She also said you owe her a Jeep ride. Whatever that means.”
“Okay.” That has to be nearly a year and a half old comment said on the day we buried Mom.
“Do you want to get your PT in now?”
“Sure.”
She looks at the device in my hand. “Are you going to tell me what you’ve been working on?”
I nod and turn the phone face down on the counter. “I messaged my nutritionist. I have had a meal plan for as long as I can remember, back into high school. Though that one included mac and cheese and ice cream. Have I ever told you about my love for ice cream?”
She looks up at me as if she’s never seen me before and this is the first time. “No.”
“I love ice cream. I don’t eat ice cream. Not often anyway. But I messaged her because I need a plan. One that might include ice cream but doesn’t include three thousand calories a day of protein and complex carbs.”
Her eyes bug out.
“It wasn’t like I was pudgy when we met.”
She swallows visibly. “No, you weren’t. You were…” A shiver runs through her.
Were.
“So I need a strategy for my new life, new activity level, new goals. We’re going to make that happen in the next little bit.”
She reaches out a hand, watching her fingers as they run down my arm. “That’s great. I’m sure you know more than you’re giving yourself credit for, but I’m glad you have someone you can trust.”
“What do you think my level of physical fitness can be? Hope isn’t a strategy. Give me reality.”
She thinks for a minute, hand still playing on my arm.
“Tackles are out of the question. I think running right now is a long-term goal, but not something we should be striving for. And that’s only if you want it.
We can manage the pain with targeted stretches and therapeutic exercises.
I don’t see why full range of motion and ‘normal’”—she uses air quotes—“life can’t be achieved within a year. ”
I don’t know what normal is. I never wanted it. It’s definitely never been a goal of mine.
But after the last few months, the idea that I could live a normal life, without pain, is attractive.
Given the right work, I can ride a horse again. Maybe. Pick up my nephew. Probably. Ride in my sister’s Wrangler without worrying about the bumps along the way. Mostly.
Normal wasn’t the goal, but it doesn’t sound horrible anymore.
“Can we speed that up?”
A smirk crosses her lips. “Perhaps. But I’d rather daily progress than push against a timeline.”
“What could I do that would slow that progress down?”
She pats my abs and pushes up on her toes for a kiss. “Glad to have you back, Layton Ranger.”
I lean down and give her what she wants. It’s what I want too.
“Let me know if you want an appointment too,” I say as she lowers back to her bare feet.
“For what?”
“With my nutritionist?”
“Why?”
“It’s not a dig, Pix. She’s a resource, and I’m offering if it’s something you want.”
She bites her lip and nods. “I’d like that. Thank you. What do I need to do?”
“Nothing. I’ll set it all up. Now… stretches or pool or yoga?”
“Yoga. I’ll grab your mat.” She bounds away and leaves me leaning on the kitchen island.
Emberleigh: Closing docs coming through to you today. And my attorney friend has gotten with yours in Florida re: the case. Do you have time today to get with them or would tomorrow be better?
I stare around my house. So many things are changing so quickly. My head spins with all the possibilities.
Me: Tomorrow works. Will you ask them if it’s smart for me to close right now or if they suggest I wait?
Emberleigh: I can do that.
Me: Thanks. More in a bit.
Livy comes back into the room, seeing me with my phone yet again, and makes a point of looking at it and at me, but says nothing.
“Kyle, do you want to go outside?” She moves to the door and walks out onto the pool deck, rolling out my mat before doing her own.
Kyle trundles from the bedroom and out the door, as I follow and move to stand beside Livy.
“Don’t push yourself. Don’t fight for the stretch. Go until you feel resistance and then back up a bit. We’re going for flow and movement, not tugging or pulling.”
“Not my first yoga rodeo.” I mimic her stance as best I can, modifying it to counter the pain that still lives in my lower back.
“I know.” She moves easily into a different pose. “But now your mind is on board with where we’re going. You’ve been used to beating your body into submission. I’m simply reminding you not to push it the way you always have.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” My words are tinged with sarcasm as we change positions yet again.
“It’s not as if I don’t have to do the same with this leg.” She points at her calf.
“We should probably get that checked out, actually. Remind me after our practice, and I’ll call a doctor friend of mine. Is that okay or did you want to go back to your surgeon? I know that’s typical protocol.”
“Your friend is fine.”
“Good. Now you’re ruining my zinnia with all this talking. Ummmmmm.”
The giggle that explodes from her warms my chest. “You are trouble but I lo— But I love that you are. I’ll stop messing with your zinnia.”
Kyle runs back from the grass and finds a shady spot behind us, sliding into a down position before rolling over onto his back and extending his back paws.
His front ones might as well be T-Rex arms. His jowls fold back to expose his teeth and pink gums, and it’s not long before his breathing evens out and provides a rhythm for our movements.
We’re just finishing when a knock sounds, and Kyle flips with a start and barks at the noise.
He and I head for the door, leaving Livy to finish her session.