19. Natalie
Natalie
It's been two weeks since we returned from Wisconsin, and so much has changed.
Ethan's recovery has taken off, his strength and mobility improving faster than anyone anticipated. But the real transformation is between us. Something unlocked during those days with his family.
The caution we carried before had dissolved. After Wisconsin, I stopped seeing Ethan Ward, the hockey player. I started seeing just Ethan. And he started seeing just me, as opposed to the PT he was sleeping with.
Ken is seated across from me in my office, flipping through Ethan's file with an approving nod. “His range of motion has improved significantly. Strength is up twenty percent from last month. He's ahead of schedule.”
“He's been putting in the work,” I say. “Extra sessions and he’s following the home program religiously. He's motivated.”
“I can see that.” Ken closes the file and sets it on my desk. “At this rate, he could be cleared for light skating within the next few weeks. Full contact by the start of the season isn't out of the question.”
My heart lifts at the news. Ethan has been working so hard, pushing through pain and frustration and doubt. To hear Ken confirm what I've been hoping is better than any validation I could ask for.
“I'll let him know during our session today,” I say.
“Good. Keep up the excellent work, Natalie.” Ken stands and heads for the door. “The organization is very pleased with his progress. You've done an outstanding job.”
“Thank you.”
After he leaves, I turn to my computer and start typing up my notes.
Ethan's session is in an hour, and I want everything documented before I see him.
The professional part of my brain knows I need to maintain meticulous records.
The personal part just wants to finish quickly so I can give him the good news.
We've been careful since we got back from Wisconsin. No touching at the facility. As far as anyone knows, we're still just patient and therapist. But every night, one of us ends up in the other's apartment, and every morning, we wake up together.
It's getting harder to pretend.
A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Come in,” I call, expecting one of the other therapists or maybe a trainer with a question.
The door opens, and my heart stops.
Brody is standing in the doorway, wearing a smug smile that once used to make me melt. Now, it makes my stomach churn.
“Oh my God, Nat, you look amazing.”
I mentally count to ten before speaking. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.” He steps into my office and closes the door behind him. “You’re not answering my calls, and you’re not responding to my texts. I didn't know what else to do.”
“So you flew to New York and showed up at my workplace?” My voice is calm despite the shock coursing through me. “How did you even get in here?”
He shrugs with cocky confidence. “I know people. I made a few calls. It wasn't hard.”
Brody has always been good at talking his way into places he doesn't belong. It's one of the things that made him successful in business, and it’s also one of the things that makes him dangerous.
“You need to leave,” I say.
“Just hear me out. Please.” He moves closer, and I stand, putting the desk between us. “I love you, Natalie. I've always loved you. What happened with that woman was the biggest mistake of my life.”
“You've said all this before.”
“But I mean it now. I'm working on myself.” He spreads his hands in a gesture of openness. “I'm a different man now. I swear.”
I study his face, searching for any sign of genuine remorse. But all I see is the same Brody I've always known. Charming, manipulative, and convinced that the right words in the right order can fix anything.
The strange thing is, I'm not angry. I expected to be furious if I ever saw him again. I expected to scream or cry or throw something at his head. But instead, I feel nothing.
“I don't care,” I say calmly.
He frowns. “What?”
“I don't care that you've been going to therapy or that you think you've changed.
I don't care about your apologies or your explanations or your declarations of love.” I reach for the phone on my desk.
“I'm going to call security now. You have about thirty seconds to leave before they escort you out.”
“Nat, come on. You can't just throw me out.”
“Yes, I can.” I pick up the receiver and start dialing. “Goodbye, Brody.”
He raises his hands in surrender, backing toward the door. “Fine. I'll go. But I'm not leaving New York. I took a room at the Ritz, and I'm staying until you agree to talk to me.”
“Then you'll be staying a very long time.”
“I'm not giving up on us.” He pauses at the door. “I know I hurt you, and I know I have a lot to make up for. But I'm going to prove to you that I've changed, even if it takes the rest of my life.”
“Please leave.”
He finally leaves
I set down the phone and sink into my chair, my legs suddenly unable to support me. My hands are shaking, but it’s not from fear. It’s from the sheer audacity of what just happened. He flew to New York and talked his way into a secure facility.
He ambushed me at my workplace.
This isn't a man who has changed. This is a man who thinks the rules don't apply to him.
I grab my cell phone and dial my father's number. He answers on the second ring.
“Natalie? Is everything all right?”
“Brody was just here.” The words come out in a rush. “At my office in the arena. He somehow got past security and showed up at my door.”
“He did what?” Dad asks in an incredulous voice.
“He gave me some speech about being a changed man and how he's not leaving New York until I talk to him.” I run my free hand through my hair. “Dad, I don't know what to do. He's not going to stop.”
“Listen to me.” My father's voice is calm but firm. “You have every right to refuse contact with him. If he continues to harass you, we'll get a restraining order.”
“Mom gave him my number again. That's how this started.”
“I know. I've already spoken to her about it. “ He sighs heavily. “Your mother has her blind spots, but I've made it clear that if she continues to facilitate contact between you and Brody, there will be consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?”
“The kind that involves separate bedrooms and canceled credit cards.” His tone is dry. “She's gotten the message.”
I laugh. “Thank you, Dad.”
“I'm also going to call Brody myself. Man to man. I'll make it very clear that his behavior is unacceptable and that any further attempts to contact you will result in legal action.”
We talk for a few more minutes before I have to go. My session with Ethan starts in twenty minutes, and I need to compose myself.
I check my reflection in the small mirror I keep in my desk drawer. My eyes are a little too bright, and there's tension in my jaw, but otherwise I look normal.
The treatment room door is already open when I arrive. Ethan is inside, scrolling through his phone, but he shoves it in his pocket the moment he sees me.
“Come here.”
I step between his legs, and his arms circle my waist, drawing me close. I sink into him, letting his warmth chase away the cold that Brody's visit left behind.
“I've been thinking about you all day,” he says.
I chuckle despite the butterflies I feel. “It’s only two o'clock.”
“Exactly. All day.” He kisses me before pulling away to brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You're my favorite person, you know that?”
“You're pretty high on my list, too.”
He grins and releases me. “Alright, boss lady. Make me suffer.”
The session goes well, all things considered. Ethan is in a good mood, cracking jokes and pushing himself harder than usual. When I tell him about Ken's assessment and about the possibility of light skating soon, his whole face lights up.
“You're serious?”
“Completely serious. You're ahead of schedule, and Ken is impressed.”
He grabs me and spins me around, then sets me down with a wince when his knee protests.
“Easy,” I scold. “Don't undo all your hard work by being reckless.”
“I'm celebrating,” he says with a grin.
We finish the session with stretches, and I try to focus on the work, but Ethan keeps shooting me looks.
“Something’s wrong,” he says finally.
He is so right. As much as I’m trying to get Brody out of my mind, I can’t. The fact that he’s in New York and planning to stay is stealing my peace. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You've been tense since I walked in.” He catches my hand when I reach for his knee. “I wasn’t going to say anything, hoping you’d bring it up, but you haven’t. Talk to me.”
He knows me so well. I want to unburden myself to him, but that would be so unfair. Ethan carries so much already. His recovery, his family, and the pressure of his contract. The last thing he needs is to worry about my ex-boyfriend drama.
“I'm just tired,” I say. “It’s been a long day.”
“Are you still going to go out with the girls or would you rather rest?” he asks.
“I’ll go. It’ll be nice to unwind,” I say.
“What time are you meeting them?” he asks.
“I'm leaving straight from here. We’re meeting at a cocktail bar in midtown at seven. And guess what, Ivory is coming too.”
Ethan grins. “You recruited another WAG? You're building an army.”
We laugh. “Someone has to keep you hockey players in line.”
He laughs and kisses me. His tongue slides against mine, and his hands tighten on my hips. I melt into him despite my better judgment, but common sense soon takes over.
“Ethan,” I gasp when he moves to my neck. “We can't. Not here.”
“I know.” He pulls back with visible effort. “Tonight. Your place or mine?”
“Mine. I'll text you when I'm home.”
“I'll be waiting.” He steals one more kiss, then steps away. “Have fun with your army.”
After he leaves, I gather my things and try to shake off the unease from Brody's visit. Tonight is about friends and not thinking about manipulative ex-boyfriends who can't take no for an answer.