7. Ethan
Ethan
Monday morning arrives and I'm dreading it.
I've spent the entire weekend replaying what happened in the locker room. Natalie’s mouth on mine.
Her breasts in my hands. The sounds she made when I sucked on her nipple.
Every time I close my eyes, I'm back on that bench with her straddling my lap and my cock pressed against the heat between her legs.
I told her it wouldn't happen again, and I meant it. She's my physical therapist, and I need her to fix my knee so I can save my career and take care of my family. That's all that matters.
But my body doesn't care about what matters. My body just remembers how soft she was and how good she tasted and how badly I wanted to bury myself inside her.
Theo texts me just as I’m hobbling out of the conditioning room.
Theo: Olivia and I are coming over for dinner tonight. We're bringing food.
I lean against the wall and type back.
Me: Fine. But don't bring food. I'll handle it.
Theo: You sure?
Me: Yes.
Theo: Alright. See you at 7.
I pull up Arlo's number next. He's preparing my food for the week, so he’s already at home.
Me: Need dinner for 3 tonight.
His response comes within seconds.
Arlo: Got it. I'll make more than enough. Any allergies I should know about?
Me: No.
Letting out a deep breath to get rid of the pocket of anxiety in my chest, I pocket my phone. I step into the treatment room at exactly eleven o'clock.
Natalie is already there, arranging equipment on the table. She's wearing black leggings and a Renegades staff polo that's buttoned all the way up to her neck. Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and there are no loose strands framing her face like there were on Saturday.
She looks like a completely different woman from the one who moaned my name while grinding against my cock.
“Good morning,” she says without turning around. “Have a seat on the table.”
I lower myself onto the treatment table and extend my leg. The silence stretches between us like a rubber band about to snap.
“How's the knee today?” She still won't look at me. She's focused on her clipboard, making notes about something that can't possibly be that interesting.
“Fine.”
“Any pain overnight?”
“Some.”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
“Four.”
She nods and writes something down. “Let's start with some stretches.”
The session begins, and it's nothing like our first one. Before, she would chat while she worked and ask me questions. Now there's just silence and the sound of her hands on my leg.
Her touch is different, too. She keeps her contact minimal and moves her hands away as soon as each exercise is complete. I should be relieved, but instead, I’m irritated, and I hate every second of it.
“Bend your knee slowly,” she says. “Stop when you feel resistance.”
I bend my knee, and she guides the movement with one hand on my thigh and one on my calf. Her eyes are fixed on my leg.
“Good. Now extend.”
We repeat the movement a dozen times in silence. The only sounds are my breathing.
I reach my breaking point. Yeah, we agreed to be professional, but she doesn’t have to behave like I’ll fucking bite her. “You can look at me, you know.”
Her hands pause on my leg for just a second, then she resumes the exercise like I didn't say anything.
“I'm focused on your knee,” she says. “That's what I'm here for.”
The rest of the session passes in the same painful silence. She takes me through the full range of exercises without a single personal comment or unnecessary word. When we're done, she hands me my crutches and steps back.
“Same time tomorrow,” she says to the wall behind my head.
“Looking forward to it.”
The sarcasm is wasted. She's already turned away, gathering her things like she can't wait to escape.
Cold bitch. Fuming, I leave without saying goodbye.
Theo and Olivia show up at seven o'clock sharp.
Arlo has outdone himself with herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, and some kind of fancy grain salad that looks too pretty to eat.
The food is laid out on my counter in containers with heating instructions, and the apartment smells like a restaurant.
“This is nice,” Olivia says as she walks in and surveys the spread. “Very domestic of you, Ethan.”
“Don't get used to it.”
I look behind them, expecting to see the baby carrier, but there's nothing. Just Theo with a bottle of wine and Olivia with her purse.
“Where's Maya?” I ask, disappointment coming over me.
I was there the night she was born. Pacing the waiting room like a caged animal while Olivia was in labor. I sat for nine hours, drowning in bad coffee until he finally came out and told me he had a daughter. I've never seen a man cry that hard.
They let me hold her the next day. She was so small and fragile that I was terrified I'd break her. But she wrapped her tiny fingers around my thumb and looked up at me with those big eyes, and since then, I've been wrapped around her finger.
Six months later, I still can't believe how much she changes every week. Last time I saw her, she was trying to grab her own feet. The time before that, she figured out how to blow raspberries. Every visit is something new.
“With my mom,” Olivia says. “We needed a grown-up night. Don't worry, you'll see her soon. She asks about her Uncle Ethan all the time.”
“She's six months old. She can't talk,” I point out.
“She asks with her eyes.”
Theo laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “How is the knee?”
“Getting there.”
We settle into the living room. Olivia curls up on one end of my couch, and Theo sprawls on the other, leaving me the armchair. Theo and I have been best friends since our rookie year, and when he married Olivia three years ago, she became family too.
They ask for details about the knee, and I keep it as brief as possible without mentioning Natalie by name.
“That's great, Ethan. That's really great.” Olivia’s enthusiasm makes me uncomfortable. I don't know how to accept encouragement without feeling like I don't deserve it.
“It's fine. Still a long way to go.”
“But you're getting there,” Theo says. “That's what matters. One step at a time.”
“Literally,” I mutter.
Olivia ignores my sarcasm. “And how's your physical therapist? I was supposed to meet her at girls' night, but Maya was fussy, and I couldn't make it. Harper said she seemed nice.”
I shrug and try to keep my expression neutral. “She's fine.”
“What's her name again? Natalie?”
So much for trying to avoid saying her name.
“Yeah. Natalie Cross.”
“I'd love to meet her. Maybe I can stop by the facility sometime and introduce myself,” Olivia says.
“She lives next door, actually,” I say before I can stop myself.
Olivia's eyes light up. “She lives here? In this building?”
“The team set her up in one of the staff apartments. It's convenient for the sessions.”
“That's perfect.” Olivia is already standing up. “I'm going to go say hello.”
“Olivia, you don't have to do that.”
“I want to. It must be lonely to move to a new city and not know anyone. I'll just pop over and introduce myself. Be right back.”
She's out the door before I can protest further.
Theo grins at me. “She's on a mission now. No stopping her.”
“Your wife is a menace.”
“She's friendly. There's a difference.” He takes a sip of his wine and studies me over the rim of the glass. “So. This physical therapist. She pretty?”
I keep my face carefully blank. “She's alright.”
“Alright? That's it?”
“What do you want me to say? She's my PT. I don't really think about it.” That was the first time I ever lied to him. I was thinking about it—her—constantly. And it pisses me off that she clearly isn’t as affected by what happened between us as I am.
Theo shrugs. “Fair enough. Hey, you hear about the Summer Skills Showcase?”
I'm grateful for the change of subject. “Yeah, I got the email. Two weeks from now, right?”
“Should be a good time. Bunch of the guys are flying in early. Non-contact stuff, obviously, but they're making it a whole charity event. Harper's company is organizing it.”
“Great.” I try to inject some enthusiasm into my voice, but it falls flat. A skills showcase means skating drills, shooting competitions, and all the things I used to do without thinking. Now I'll be stuck on the sidelines, watching my teammates do what I can't.
“You'll be there though, right?” Theo asks. “Even if you can't participate?”
I give him a sideways glance. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really,” he chuckles. “But it’ll be good for you to get out of here and see some of the guys. Half the team is convinced you hate them with how much you’ve been hiding.”
Before I can respond, the door opens, and Olivia breezes back in with a smile that tells me she's accomplished her mission.
“Guess who I found,” she announces.
Natalie appears behind her, looking slightly overwhelmed. She's changed out of her work clothes and into jeans and a sweater that hangs off one shoulder. Her hair is loose around her face, and she looks different from the way she does in our sessions.
More beautiful.
“Natalie, this is my husband, Theo. Theo, this is Natalie,” Olivia says.
Theo stands and shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you. I've heard good things.”
“All lies, I'm sure,” Natalie says with a small smile.
“She was just about to eat a sad microwave meal,” Olivia continues with a dramatic pout. Natalie chuckles nervously, and I hate that Olivia is embarrassing her. “I told her that's unacceptable when there's perfectly good food right next door and demanded that she join us for dinner.”
“I told her it was okay and that my sad microwave food is surprisingly good.” Natalie’s eyes meet mine. “I don't want to intrude on your time with your friends.”
“Nonsense,” Olivia says firmly before I can respond. Not that I’d know what to say anyway. “There's plenty of food, and we'd love the company. Right, Ethan?”
Everyone looks at me. Natalie's expression is neutral, but tension is radiating off her. She's giving me an out. All I have to do is agree that she shouldn't intrude, and she'll retreat to her apartment.
“Stay,” I hear myself say. “There's more than enough.”
Natalie hesitates for just a second, then nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
We move to the dining table, and I busy myself with plating the food. Olivia takes charge of the seating arrangement, putting Natalie across from me, where I have no choice but to look at her every time I raise my head.
The conversation flows easily, mostly because Olivia could make small talk with a brick wall. She asks Natalie about her move to New York, her impressions of the city, and her favorite restaurants so far.
“I haven't explored much yet,” Natalie says. “Work has been keeping me busy.”
“We'll have to change that,” Olivia says. “The girls do brunch every couple of weeks.”
“I'd like that.”
“So tell us about yourself,” Olivia continues. “Where are you from originally?”
“Charlotte, North Carolina. Born and raised.”
“And your family? Are they still there?”
“My parents are. My father is a cardiologist at one of the hospitals there. He's been practicing for almost thirty years.”
“A doctor,” Olivia says. “That's impressive.”
“He loves it.” There's warmth in Natalie's voice when she talks about her father. “We talk every Sunday. He pretends he's checking on me, but really he just wants to make sure I'm eating enough vegetables.”
I laugh along with everyone else. Natalie notices, and our eyes meet for just a moment before she looks away.
“And your mother?” Olivia asks.
“She's involved in a lot of charity work. Boards and galas and that sort of thing.” Natalie's tone shifts slightly. Still polite but with an edge underneath. “She keeps busy.”
Olivia must sense the change because she moves on quickly. “Any siblings?”
“No, just me. The only child.”
“And no boyfriend back in Charlotte waiting for you?”
Every muscle in my body tenses. I pretend to focus on my food, but my attention is locked on Natalie, waiting for her answer with an intensity that makes no sense.
Natalie reaches for her wine glass. “That's a story for another day,” she says lightly.
Olivia has the grace to look apologetic. “Sorry, I didn't mean to pry.”
“It's totally fine. Just don’t want to ruin dinner with my crazy ex drama.” She laughs it off easily, but now I’m intrigued. Was this crazy ex why she moved to New York? Just how crazy was he?
The topic shifts to safer territory. Theo talks about the upcoming season, and Olivia shares stories about Maya's latest antics. Natalie laughs and asks thoughtful questions, fitting into the group like she's always been there.
I try not to stare at her. I try to focus on my food and the conversation and anything other than the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs or the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's thinking.
But my eyes keep finding her anyway.
An hour later, the food is gone, and Olivia is yawning into her wine glass.
“We should head out,” Theo says. “Early morning tomorrow.”
“Me too,” Natalie adds, standing. “Thank you for dinner, Ethan. And for the invitation.”
“Thank Olivia. She's the one who kidnapped you.”
Natalie smiles. “I didn't mind being kidnapped.”
There's a flurry of goodbyes and promises to do this again soon. Olivia hugs Natalie and makes her promise to come to the next brunch. Theo shakes her hand and tells her it was nice to meet her.
Then they're all gone, and I'm standing alone in my apartment. It’s late enough to go to bed, but I’m too wired up.
A story for another day.
That's what she said when Olivia asked about a boyfriend.
Some guy back in Charlotte is probably calling her every night. Some guy who knows what it's like to wake up next to her. I grab my crutches and hobble to my bedroom.
It doesn't matter. She's my physical therapist. Whatever happened in that locker room was a mistake, and it's not happening again. She can have a dozen boyfriends back in Charlotte for all I care.
But why the fuck does the thought of another man touching her make me want to put my fist through a wall?