Chapter 5
JESS
It’s only been thirty minutes and my phone won’t stop buzzing. Every friend I have needs to know if I saw the video. What really happened and whether or not it's AI as if it were some bunnies jumping on a trampoline. It’s real, people! Griffin is back.
He’s fucking back after all this time.
The words circle in my head like vultures as I storm down Main Street with my empty coffee cup crushed in my fist. Five years. I spent five years building a life, building a career, building walls so high and thick that nothing could get through.
And he just strolls into my favorite coffee shop like he has every right to be there.
Griffin Callahan. The sweetheart of Magnolia Landing turned out to be a real jackass if you ask me. The man held my heart in his hands and crushed it like tissue paper.
I’d known he was coming back, of course. Charleston’s gossip mill is more efficient than the Associated Press. The old ladies at First Presbyterian have been whispering about his fall from grace for weeks.
I tried to ignore it, but I got all the highlights anyway. His manager embezzled millions. His knee is destroyed. His career is circling the drain. Good. Great. Fantastic. I don’t care. I refuse to care for a single minute.
My phone buzzes again and this time it’s Grandma Dot. She’s the one person I can’t ignore.
Grandma: Heard you threw coffee at the Callahan boy. Good girl. Come for dinner and tell me everything.
I almost smile. Grandma Dot has been my rock since my parents split when I was fifteen. She took me in, raised me, taught me that pie crust and prayer could solve almost anything. She also taught me that heartbreakers don’t deserve second chances.
Me: Athletes leave, heartbreakers return, but pie crust is forever. Someone taught me that.
Grandma: In my day, we didn’t give our hearts to men with exit strategies.
Too late Gram, that ship sailed back when I was twenty-two.
Me: :)
By the time I reach my practice, I’ve almost gotten my breathing under control. Hartwell Sports Medicine occupies the ground floor of a historic building on Peach Street. It’s all exposed brick and state-of-the-art equipment. It’s just the way I wanted it.
I couldn’t be more proud of the way this place ended up. I built from nothing and had my hands in every step of its creation. It wasn’t always pretty either. I scraped together loans, worked fifteen-hour days, begged and borrowed until I had something worth being proud of.
It’s mine. He can’t touch it.
“There you are.” My receptionist, Macy, looks up from her desk with knowing eyes. “Dr. Thompson wants to see you. He’s in his office.”
Beside her, Vivi, our new physical therapy assistant, looks up from a stack of intake forms. She moved here from Colorado six months ago, and we became fast friends.
She's the only person at the clinic who knows the full story of Griffin and me.
The sympathy in her eyes tells me she's already seen the video.
My stomach drops.
Dr. William Thompson is the primary investor at Hartwell Sports Medicine. He’s my colleague now, but before all this success he was my mentor in grad school. He believed in me when no one else did. When I needed capital for my practice, he was first in line with his checkbook.
I owe him everything and I can always count on him to shoot straight. Which is why my blood runs cold when I walk into his office and see the folder on his desk.
“Jess.” He gestures to the chair across from him. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
I sit, but I already know what he’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it.
“The Southern Knights called yesterday after you left early. You took Biscuit to the vet... How is Biscuit by the way?” His voice is measured. Careful.
“He’s fine. What’s this about?” My jaw clenches.
“That’s good to hear. He’s a sweet old pup.”
“Get to the point, William,” I snap.
“Okay, the Southern Knights want you to take on a new patient. It’s a high-profile, career-threatening ACL reconstruction and it could put us on the map. They’re paying triple our usual rate. We have no choice but to take the team on as clients.”
“No.” I’m on my feet before I realize I’ve moved and I smooth a hand over the front of my pants. “Have a nice day. I’ve got work to do.”
“Jess,”
“Absolutely not. He specifically requested us? That’s insane. I can’t. We can’t. There’s a history, Dr. Thompson. A significant personal history.”
“I know.” His voice softens. “The whole town knows, Jess. That video from the coffee shop is already making the rounds.”
Oh God.
“Look.” He leans forward, folding his hands on the desk. “I understand this is complicated. But we need this contract. The practice needs it. That payment would cover our equipment upgrades and let us hire two more therapists. We’ve been struggling to keep up with demand.”
“I know we’ve been struggling. I’ve been covering extra shifts, taking on more patients than I should. We’re at capacity and then some. But surely someone else,”
“No. You’re the best, Jess. We both know that. Your ACL program has the highest success rate in the state. That’s why they want you.” He pauses. “That’s why he requested you. What are you going to do? You can’t let some old relationship get in the way of growth? Don’t give him that power.”
I stare at the folder like it’s a coiled snake. Griffin’s name is right there on the tab and my stomach twists and turns.
“I could quit,” I say, only half joking.
“You won’t.” Dr. Thompson’s eyes crinkle with something like sympathy. “You love this work too much. And you’re too damn good at it to let some jacked up jackass drive you away.”
He’s right.
Damn him, he’s right.
I huff out a breath. “Fine.” The word tastes like ash in my mouth.
“I should refer him out. Any ethics board would tell me to refer him out. But every other ACL specialist in the state has a six-week waitlist, and his training camp deadline won’t move.
” I grab the folder. “But I’m doing this my way.
Professional distance. Strict boundaries. He’s a patient. Nothing more.”
“That’s all anyone’s asking.”
“Obviously.” I storm out, ignoring Macy’s curious look as I head for my office. I have approximately sixteen hours to prepare myself for the worst assignment of my career.