Chapter 10 Roman
ROMAN
Because Friday night.
"Do you want to—"
She was going to finish that sentence. Invite me in. I saw it in her eyes, the way they went dark when I had her pressed against my truck. Felt it in the way her fingers twisted in my shirt when I kissed her, holding on like she was trying to keep me there.
And what did I do? Said "See you Monday" like some noble fucking asshole who thought he was doing the right thing.
I've jerked off three times this weekend thinking about what would've happened if I'd said yes. If I'd followed her inside. If I'd let her finish that invitation instead of cutting her off like a coward.
I know exactly how it would've gone. Her apartment door barely closed before I had her against it.
My hands in her hair, on her waist, everywhere.
Finding out what other sounds she makes besides that gasp when I bit her ear.
Whether she'd let me drop to my knees right there in her entryway. How she'd taste—
My phone buzzes and I nearly jump out of my skin.
Dex
You coming in or you gonna sit in your truck all morning like a creep?
I look up. He's standing at the entrance, coffee in hand, grinning at me through the glass.
Fuck.
I grab my bag and get out of the truck, adjusting myself as discreetly as possible.
"Morning," Dex says when I reach the door. "You look like shit."
"Didn't sleep much."
"Yeah?" His grin widens. "That why you've been sitting in the parking lot having what looks like a very intense conversation with your steering wheel?"
"Fuck off."
"You seeing Doc this morning?"
My jaw tightens. "Rehab session at seven."
"Right. Rehab." He holds the door open for me. "That why you showed up early? For rehab?"
I don't answer. Just head for the locker room, ignoring his laughter following me down the hall.
One more hour until I see her. Sixty minutes to get my shit together and act like a professional instead of someone who spent the entire weekend replaying a kiss and jerking off to might-have-beens.
This is going to go great.
The PT room smells like Jake’s cologne instead of vanilla lotion.
He’s organizing equipment with his back to me, but I can immediately tell somethings wrong.
“She’s not coming. Her mom’s in the hospital.”
My stomach drops. “When?”
“Saturday afternoon. She took a bad turn. Marnie texted me at 4 AM to cover.”
Saturday. While I was lying in bed replaying our kiss, she was watching her mom dying.
I pull out my phone. Our last exchange stares back at me. Her “Night Captain” that I’ve analyzed like it’s fucking Shakespeare.
You okay?
Nothing.
I set up for exercises with fifteen-pound weights instead of tens. The burn in my shoulder matches the knot in my gut. Every rep, I’m thinking about her at the hospital alone. Every extension, I’m seeing her fumble with her keys, waiting for me to change my mind.
Jake said about your mom. If you need anything.
Still nothing.
By practice, I’ve checked my phone thirty-two times.
Dex calls me on it when I pass the puck directly to the referee instead of him.
“Take a lap,” Barrett says, and I can hear the confusion in his voice.
I don’t take laps. I don’t lose focus.
Except now I do.
Rodriguez is laughing at his phone in the locker room after practice.
“Doc’s destroying my insurance forms. Says my handwriting looks like I wrote with my feet.” He shows me the screen.
She’s sent him paragraphs. Actual paragraphs about documentation while I can’t get a single word.
“Reception must be good at the hospital,” I say, and Rodriguez gives me a weird look.
I head to the weight room and start loading up the barbell. My usual weight plus forty pounds because fuck it, the shoulder already hurts and at least this pain makes sense.
“You’re going to tear something,” Brody says, appearing like he was waiting for my stupid decision.
“It’s fine.”
“So you kissed her on Friday.”
The bar rattles on the rack.
“So?”
“Now you’re in here destroying your shoulder because you’re scared of what happens next.”
“I’m not scared of her.”
“No, you’re scared of wanting her. There’s a difference.”
I start my set instead of answering.
But he’s right. I’m terrified of how much I wanted to follow her inside. How close I came to saying fuck the job, fuck the ethics, fuck everything except finding out how she tastes everywhere.
On rep eight, something tears.
Not catastrophic, but muscle fibers separate in a way that makes me drop the weight and bite back a curse.
“Called it,” Brody says. “Jake!”
Jake appears immediately, already shaking his head. “Ice. Now. And I’m telling Marnie.”
Her response to Jake is instant.
Of course he did. Tell him not to touch anything until Wednesday.
She knows. Even pissed, even avoiding me, she knows exactly what kind of stupid I’d pull.
That night I’m in bed, shoulder packed in ice, when she finally texts me.
Marnie
Jake said you hurt yourself.
I grab my phone so fast I nearly drop it.
Minor tear.
Marnie
There’s no such thing as minor with shoulders. How bad?
How’s your mom?
Three dots appear for so long I think she’s writing a novel.
Marnie
Not good.
I’m sorry.
Marnie
Don’t lift anything until Wednesday.
I didn’t mean to make your job harder.
Marnie
You never mean to.
She’s not talking about my shoulder.
Tuesday is hell.
I can’t train, can’t focus, can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me before going inside. Like she was offering something I was too chickenshit to take.
Wednesday morning I’m at the facility at 5:30.
Her car pulls in at 5:50 and she looks destroyed. Dark circles under her eyes, hair pulled back in a hasty bun, moving like every step costs her something.
“You’re early,” she says.
“You’re here.”
She unlocks the PT room without responding. Inside, she gestures to the table.
“Shirt.”
I pull it off and notice her hands shake slightly as she examines the damage.
“Dammit, Roman. This is going to add three weeks minimum. You’ll miss opening night.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because you did this to yourself. With the extra weight and the weekend sets and the—” She stops, pressing her palms against her eyes.
“My mom coded yesterday.”
“What?”
“Her heart stopped. They got her back, but she coded.” Her voice is eerily calm, the kind of calm that comes from being too exhausted to feel anything anymore. “While I was filling out insurance forms in the hallway, her heart stopped beating.”
I’m off the table before I realize I’m moving.
“Marnie—”
“And all I could think about was how you kissed me and then walked away like it meant nothing.”
The words slam through me and I can’t breathe.
“It didn’t mean nothing—”
“Then why did you leave?”
The question hangs between us, demanding an answer I’m not sure I can give.
I could lie. Make up something about respect or professionalism. Tell her I was being noble.
“Because if I followed you inside, I wouldn’t have left until morning.” The words come out rough, honest. “And then what? You still have to be my PT. You still have to touch me without thinking about how it feels when I make you come. You still have to—”
“That’s my choice to make. Not yours.”
“Your job—”
“My mom is dying. Actually dying. Present tense.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “My job is the least of my problems.” She steps back, putting distance between us. “But you decided for both of us. What was appropriate. What was safe.”
“I was trying to protect—”
“Yourself. You were protecting yourself.”
She’s right.
I was protecting myself from wanting her too much. From the way she’s worked herself under my skin. From the fact that I think about her constantly and it has nothing to do with my shoulder.
The door opens.
Jake looks back and forth between us and starts backing out immediately. “I’ll just—”
“No, take over,” Marnie says, voice controlled again but brittle. “I need a minute.”
She shoulders her way through the door and I’m standing there shirtless, shoulder throbbing, watching her walk away again.
“What happened?” Jake asks quietly.
“I’m falling for her.”
The words are out before I can stop them.
Jake drops his ice pack. “You’re what?”
“Fuck.” I sit on the table, head in my hands. “I’m falling for her and she’s going through hell and I can’t do anything except make it worse.”
“Have you told her?”
“I can’t even get her to text me back.”
“Because you kissed her and bailed.”
“Because I kissed her and wanted it too much.” I look at him. “You ever want someone so bad it scares you?”
“Yeah. But I didn’t tear my shoulder over it.”
Fair point.
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know, man. She just left.”
I pull my shirt back on and go looking.
Not in her office. Not in the break room.
I find her in the supply closet, sitting on the floor between boxes of tape and gauze, crying so hard she doesn’t hear the door open.
“Marnie.”
She glances up, tears streaking down her face. “Get out.”
“No.”
“Roman, I swear to God—”
“I’m not leaving.” I shut the door and sit on the floor across from her.
The closet is barely big enough for both of us. Our knees touch.
She wipes her face roughly with the back of her hand, smearing mascara. “You can’t just—”
“Your mom coded.”
“I already told you that.”
“And you were alone.”
“I’m always alone.” Her voice is flat, exhausted. “That’s how this works. I’m alone at the hospital, alone with Winters trying to get me fired, alone with your shoulder that you keep fucking up because you can’t follow basic—”
“You’re not alone anymore.”
The words come out quieter than I intended.
She goes very still. “What?”
“You’re not alone. Not with this. Not with your mom. Not with Winters.” I lean forward slightly, our knees pressing harder together. “I fucked up Friday by not following you inside, but not because I didn’t want to. Because I wanted it too much and didn’t know what to do with that.”
“Roman—”