3. Ryan
3
Ryan
Well, that didn’t exactly go as planned.
Maybe I should have taken Steve’s advice and not gone at all, but my curiosity got the better of me. After what John was saying about her, I couldn’t stop myself from looking her up while we were still in the coffee shop.
At first, I didn’t tell Steve and John that I was checking out her website. I figured they’d only try and talk me out of it. It was only when I saw her photograph that I remembered who she was. Not that the picture on her website looked anything like the girl I went to school with. Gone were the geeky glasses she used to wear. Also missing was the shy appearance I remember her having.
And the guys were right. She had accolade after accolade listed, with some pretty hefty recommendations from athletes with names even I recognized. Some of these guys might be amateurs now, but it’ll only be a couple of years before they’re playing with the big boys.
“What are you looking at?” Steve said. “One of your many girls texting you?”
“Nope.”
I’d then turned my phone around so he could see.
His face crumpled, and he shook his head. “Don’t do it, Ryan. I’m telling you. You’ll regret it.”
John grinned. “You should go and see her. Honestly, she really knows her stuff.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Steve growled.
“How about we make a bet?” I said. “Who’s up for winning a few dollars?”
Steve huffed a sigh. “I thought you didn’t like to lose?”
“You don’t think I can win her over?” I mocked. “Steve, your lack of faith in me is insulting.”
“Listen. I’m married. You forget, I know what it feels like to live with a woman scorned. They never forget, man. They’re like elephants.”
“Did you just call your wife an elephant?” John chuckled.
Steve tilted his head and gave John a snarl.
“Alright, ladies. Quit your domestics,” I said, pushing myself up from the chair.
“You’re going now?” Steve balked, looking like he was going to have a seizure.
“Sure,” I shrugged. “Why not?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
While I left them at the table and limped out of the coffee shop looking pretty confident, I’ll admit that I did hesitate once I’d traveled down several streets and found myself outside the glass doors of the clinic.
It’s not like me to hesitate in anything, but putting a name to the face on her website, I remembered what had happened all those years ago. But then, feeling ridiculous, I shook my head. I’m a grown man and a famous ice hockey player. What was I doing?
I was with John on this one. Surely, she wouldn’t still be holding on to something so petty.
When I walked into the clinic, I didn’t really know what to expect. Sure, I’ve been attended to by physios before, but our med team has state-of-the-art equipment in a pretty large room back in the city. This place was tucked away in sleepy old Maple Springs. I’ll admit, I was impressed. The place was all clean lines and bright décor.
What I wasn’t expecting was a rather stunningly beautiful redhead standing behind the desk.
The picture on Emma Carter’s website doesn’t do her justice. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that it’s false advertising. My heart didn’t exactly skip a beat at the cascading red hair falling over her slender shoulders, but she certainly had my attention.
Unfortunately, my delight was not at all reciprocated, and with her arms folded across her chest at the sight of me, I knew straight away that she remembered our last encounter in 4K clarity. I did try to be nice, but even my charm couldn’t dent the ice-cold armor she was wearing. In fact, from the vibes I was getting, I’d be warmer outside.
There was a moment when she and her assistant were clearly not on the same page. I recognized her, too, and figured she was another girl who attended Maple Springs High. At least she seemed impressed to see me. But that didn’t last long before Emma gave a look that could kill dead things.
It was a short exchange wherein she was adamant that she couldn’t fit me in. I didn’t believe it for a second, but whatever.
I left with my pride intact, and after taking the same route back, I’m now pulling my collar up against the bitter wind that’s funneling down Main Street. I won’t lie, I am a bit annoyed, but I push that down somewhere where I can’t feel it. If she doesn’t want my business, then I’ll find someone else who does.
In fact, I don’t need her. I’ll just call Coach.
The guys watch me as I enter the coffee shop again, both of them with expectant faces. I lift my hand, gesturing for another coffee from the pretty barista behind the counter before limping back to the table they’re still sitting at.
“Well?” Steve presses.
“You were right,” I say, dropping back into my chair. “Women really are elephants.”
Steve grins and holds his hand out to John. “Cough up.”
I smirk as I watch John dig around in his wallet and hand over ten dollars. “I can’t believe you guys actually bet on that.”
“Hey, you brought it up,” Steve says. He gives me a sympathetic look across the table. “So, how bad was it?”
“Well, if looks were fire, I’d probably be covered in third-degree burns right now. Let’s just say she was less than impressed to see me.”
Steve shrugged. “I told you.”
“Yes. So you’ve mentioned once or twice,” I snarl dryly.
The barista arrives with a tray and places three more coffees down on the table. After thanking her, John lifts his and looks at me over the rim.
“What are you going to do?”
I swipe a dismissive hand. “I don’t need her. I’ll just call Coach. I just thought going to appointments in the town would be easier than having the team physio traveling all the way out here.”
“They would do that?” John looks impressed.
“Sure, they would. It’s me, right? In fact”—I dig around in my jacket pocket for my phone—“I’m going to call Coach right now.”
Steve and John talk among themselves while I wait for Coach to answer, and on the fifth ring, he picks up.
“Hey, Coach. It’s Ryan.”
“Ryan. How’s it going? What about the leg?”
“Still injured,” I joke back. “Listen, I was wondering whether I can get one of the team to come down here.”
“What do you mean?” Coach says, sounding confused.
“Well, I need to keep up with my physical therapy, right?”
“Sure you do.” His tone has me immediately alert. “It’s just… I can’t spare anyone. I’m sorry, man, but you’re on the bench right now. The guys still playing need the med team more than you.”
“Oh,” I reply, feeling more than a little affronted.
By this point, Steve and John have stopped talking and, clearly hearing my tone, are now looking at me with furrowed brows.
“I can pay,” I offer.
“It’s not about the money, son. I’m sorry. Your hometown is just too far away. If you want to come back to the city, you’re more than welcome to come and get your therapy here.”
There’s no way I can face going back to the city. I’ve only just escaped from there.
“Right. Of course,” I reply, trying to keep my emotions out of my voice. Sounding perkier than I feel, I say, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. Thanks, Coach.”
When the call ends, John and Steve are still looking at me.
“Well?” Steve asks.
“It seems that once you’re off the team, you’re not a priority anymore,” I drawl sarcastically. “Coach won’t send anybody out here, so it looks like I need to start looking for another therapist.”
John gives me a look. “You won’t get any better than—”
“I don’t want to hear it, man,” I snap.
“Hey,” Steve says, scowling at me. “He’s only trying to help.”
I feel bad then, and heaving a sigh, I nod. “I’m sorry.” I look John straight in the eye. “I’m sorry, man. Really. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.”
“It’s cool, man. I know you have stuff going on. And if you don’t want to go back to Emma, that’s fine. But the next best therapist is a hundred miles away.”
Of course they are.
“Great,” I spit.
“Maybe you need to come at this from a different angle,” John continues. “Clearly, your fame isn’t going to help you. But maybe you need to show her that you’re not that kid anymore.”
“The thing is,” John smirks, “he is.”
“Hey.” I grin back.
Steve chuckles. “If you want her to treat you, you’re going to have to win her over. It’s that simple.”
“And how do I do that?”
John and Steve look at each other with astonished faces.
“This guy really is something, huh?” John says.
“He always was,” Steve replies with a smirk.
“I’m right here,” I protest.
“Exactly,” John says. “This ain’t the city, Ryan. That girl isn’t going to drool all over you like your fans do. You gotta treat her with some respect. Show her that you respect her and her profession.”
“You mean, grovel,” I quip back.
Steve chuckles. “Something like that.”
I can’t remember the last time I had to chase a woman. Even my ex hounded me for months until I agreed to go on a date with her. Being famous is hard work, but it has a lot of perks. Perks, I will admit, I have taken advantage of on several occasions.
But right now, I need help.
“Okay. Let’s say I agree to do this, and I’m not saying I’m going to, but if I do, what is it going to take?”
Steve gawks at me. “This isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation, Ryan. There’s no answer that fits into one sentence.”
“Besides, you’re talking about women,” John adds. “They all want different things.”
“Or the same woman wants different things on different days,” Steve laughs.
“Right,” John laughs with him.
“This is not helping,” I say, not joining in with the joke.
“Have you tried not being a jerk?” Steve quips, giving me a knowing look. “That’s a good place to start.”
I roll my eyes at my best friend.
“Listen, Ryan,” John says. “I know you don’t live in the real world like the rest of us, but if you’re going to do this, you’re going to have to try.”
“Course I live in the real world,” I counter.
“Really?” John says, his eyebrows high on his shaved head. “Okay. How did you get here last night?”
“By car.”
“What kinda car?” he says again.
I know where he’s going with this, but I answer anyway. “A chauffeur-driven Lincoln.”
“When’s the last time you went grocery shopping for yourself?”
I have to think about that one, but after a minute, I shake my head. “Can’t remember.”
“What about normal shopping? Clothes, running shoes, a jacket?”
Again, I struggle to recall the last time I didn’t have an assistant do that stuff for me, and again, I shake my head.
“See what I mean?” John concludes.
“You know I’m rich, right?” I counter. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t have someone do something for me.”
“Sure,” Steve jumps in, “but being famous only makes it ten times worse.”
The guys have my back against the wall, and I can’t argue, even if I wanted to.
“Fine,” I huff. “Tell me what I have to do.”