Chapter 42
Layla
Crouching down by the cabinets, I empty the boxes of medical supplies from a recent delivery and try to organize them properly.
“Good morning, Layla.” Mr. Zetner calls. I look up as he approaches with a file in his hand.
“Hi, Mr. Zetner,” I say, rising off the floor.
“I have to go to the ballfield to help Taylor and Miles with a couple of the players,” he says, giving me an apologetic look. “But I have a player coming down now for his leg and I need you to take a look at him for me.”
“Of course, no problem,” I agree, taking the file.
“Thanks,” he mumbles and spins on his heel, jogging out of the room.
Glancing at the file, I see the player only needs me to massage it out, so that should be easy. A moment later, I hear someone behind me. Turning, I gasp, staring into the eyes of my ex-boyfriend. “Cal.”
“Layla,” he grins, a sly smile curling his lips.
Fuck. I should’ve looked at the file before I agreed. Please have it be someone else. “What do you want?” I grit through my teeth.
“I pulled a muscle in my leg and coach sent me down here to see Zetner, but I’d much rather see you.”
Clenching my fist, I mutter. “Good because I’m apparently what you’ve got.”
He gets a mischievous look in his eyes and saunters to one of the tables and sits on the end. “I’m having trouble with my left leg,” he claims, showing me the muscle on the inside of his thigh.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I blurt out. “You probably got hurt there from all your extracurricular activities.”
Arching his brow, he asks, “I said I was sorry, Layla. She took advantage of me when I was drunk. It meant nothing to me.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “Do you think that matters to me?”
He pinches his lips tightly together. “So, are you going to help me with my leg or not? I’m happy to go ask your boss for help instead.”
“No, no, it’s fine.”
Gritting my teeth, I begin working on him, cringing as a moan leaves his mouth. Sure, I’ve heard it before while I’m working, but hearing it from Cal makes me nauseous. “That feels so good, just a little higher.”
I dig in harder than necessary, making him flinch and grab my wrist. “What the fuck, babe?”
“Don’t call me babe and let me do my job.”
He wrenches me closer and my eyes narrow. “Layla, please. I miss you. We were so good together.”
“I have a boyfriend. Let me go.”
“So, it’s true? You’re fucking one of the players from the Lions?”
“That’s not your business, Cal. Let go of me and let me do my job or get the fuck out.”
“I just want to talk, Layla.” Glaring at him, I don’t respond and he growls in annoyance. “What if I don’t want to do those things?”
“Then I’ll report you for harassment.”
“Hurst? Are you bothering Miss Romano?” Mr. Zetner questions as he reenters the training room.
Cal drops my hand like a child who touched a burning stove. “No, Sir. We’re old friends.”
“That’s not what it looks like to me.” Glancing back at me, he says, “Layla, take an extra kit up to the dugout and assist your brother.”
“Got it.” I grab the first aid kit and practically run out of the training room. My heartrate settles when I finally reach the dugout and spot my brother. Sinking down on the bench near him, my body sags with relief.
Leaning towards my ear, he asks, “You okay?”
Gulping down the lump in my throat I nod, but his furrowed brow remains. He knows me better than that. I’ll tell him at the end of the day. I’m not about to piss him off during practice. “Mr. Zetner said you were hurt?”
“Nope, I’m good. Are you sure you’re all right?”
A small smile curls my lips. Looks like I have my own team already watching my back. “Yes, Gabe. I’m great.”