The Recovery Coach (Coaching The Connors #2)

Chapter 1

Olivia

Olivia Stewart stumbled toward her front door, clutching her aching abdomen. It had taken ten years of pain, heavy bleeding, traumatic ER visits, and half a dozen doctors to get her endometriosis diagnosis. Birth control kept her symptoms mostly under control, but she still had bad days.

She cursed her uterus. Fucking thing took and took and took, literally bleeding her dry until she struggled to stay conscious.

She tried to get through her workday, but they sent her home early.

Vertigo made focusing on a computer screen impossible.

Her boss struggled with the same issue and took pity on her whenever possible.

As soon as her coworkers finished their lunch breaks, Olivia was handed a Gatorade and ordered to take her ass home.

She fumbled her keys, muttering curses under her breath as she stooped to pick them up. Lance would be pissed if she woke him. His shift started soon, and nobody wanted a sleepy surgeon. With the door unlocked she tiptoed into her own home, feeling like an intruder.

When she followed him to Seattle, she’d imagined date nights and working together and drinking wine while they watched movies on random Thursday evenings.

Getting away from his controlling family seemed like the perfect opportunity to grow together as a couple.

It had been six months, and they hadn’t done any of the things she’d looked forward to.

Lance was settling into his role at the hospital, and though they worked in the same building, they were on opposite schedules.

She didn’t know how they could start a family if they couldn’t even find time to eat dinner together once a week.

She kicked off her shoes and set her purse on the kitchen counter, stopping to eat a single slice of plain wheat bread so she could take pain pills without vomiting them back up later. The pills swallowed, she snuck into the guest bathroom to change into pajamas, hoping to nap away the agony.

The bed squeaked in the next room, pulling Olivia out of her trance.

Fuck. She’d woken Lance.

This is all she would hear about for the next week. She sighed and opened the bathroom door, ready to face the music. The bed creaked again, and she hustled to the bedroom. If he had to get out of bed, his complaining would be much worse.

What she found stopped her dead in her tracks. She needn’t have worried about disturbing Lance’s sleep. He was very much awake.

Her boyfriend’s bare ass flexed as he ground into his partner. Toned legs encircled his waist, pink-painted toes curling in pleasure. Olivia could only stare until the adrenaline kicked in. She flicked on the lights to better see her future being flushed down the toilet.

Lance’s movements stilled, his head snapping toward her, his dick still buried in his mystery woman.

Rage fueled Olivia’s next movements. He wasn’t worth a fight.

Nothing he said mattered anymore. She’d planned her life around him.

Around having his babies. Wearing his wedding band.

She tolerated a lot of shit during their years together.

His constantly putting his own needs ahead of hers.

Walking on eggshells in her own home, terrified she would wake him with her mere existence or say something to set him off.

Being told “soon” every time she asked when they were getting married.

If he cheated while they were dating, he wouldn’t stay faithful when they were married.

Numbness spread through her chest. Her body moved before her mind caught up.

Grabbing an overnight bag out of her closet—the smaller closet because Lance’s suits were more important than her work clothes and pajamas—she stuffed a week’s worth of clothes into it.

Lance scrambled out of bed. She gave him a once-over, taking in his rumpled hair, glassy eyes, and flagging dick. No condom in sight. The fucker.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She ignored him, gathering her skincare and makeup bags from the bathroom as he followed her around.

All the while he talked, but Olivia was so mentally removed she couldn’t have told you a single word he said.

She stormed back into the bedroom, grabbing her birth control and antidepressants from the bedside table.

The naked woman in her bed sat up, gathering Olivia’s favorite flannel sheets to cover her breasts. “You don’t have to be such a bitch. I’ll go, and you guys can talk things out.”

Olivia hadn’t realized who her boyfriend had been fucking.

She had liked the perky nurse. Adored her.

They’d gone on coffee dates and shared breaks at work.

They’d gone on double dates with her and a couple of her boyfriends over the past few months.

Now she knew why Lance encouraged her to invite Amanda over so often.

“Oh, fuck you, Amanda,” Olivia said. “You were supposed to be my friend.”

“We are friends.”

“Not anymore.”

Lance tried to rip the bag from her hands. “You aren’t going anywhere until we talk.” His words were a demand, but Olivia held tight to her bag.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

If she had to stay there one more minute, she would break down, and he didn’t deserve to witness that humiliation. She tugged the bag. When he didn’t let go, she forced herself to meet his gaze. She yanked at the bag again.

“Let go of me, Lance,” she said through clenched teeth.

“You have to let me explain.”

Olivia didn’t have to do shit for him. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep her tears in check. She didn’t answer him. Didn’t agree to hear him out.

Lance let go when she yanked on the bag again, letting her stumble backward. “Fine,” he said, his face flushed with anger.

Olivia threw her duffel bag over her shoulder and headed for the door.

“If you leave right now, don’t bother coming back. We’re done,” he yelled after her.

“Good,” she said, and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

She’d maintained her dignity in front of Lance, but as soon as she pulled away from the curb, the tears poured.

Olivia drove until her apartment complex was well out of sight before pulling into a mostly abandoned parking lot to cry.

She cried and screamed and sobbed until her tears dried up and the resignation to starting over set in.

She held the steering wheel and buried her face in her forearms, letting herself wallow until her head pounded and the stabbing sensation in her lower abdomen forced her to problem-solve.

She turned the key in The Reaper and thanked the universe when it started on the first try. Her mind didn’t consciously register her intention in direction until she arrived at her destination.

Parking in the middle of the ridiculous round driveway, she blocked in Connor’s gaudy G-Wagon. All that money couldn’t buy taste. She slammed the door on the shitty Honda Civic she’d been driving since high school and let herself into her best friend’s house.

It was dark. He probably wasn’t home. She flipped on the lights as she searched for him.

When she found him, she swore the universe was playing a cruel practical joke on her.

The lights in the living room were dim, a sitcom playing on his massive TV, the volume reduced to inaudible levels.

Connor sat in the dark, legs spread, arms along the back of the couch, head tossed back in pleasure as a silhouetted head bobbed in his lap.

Olivia’s heart sank, but she rolled her eyes and made herself at home, unsurprised by his debauchery.

She dropped her bag on the kitchen floor and searched the cupboard for something to snack on.

No way would she be able to sleep. Connor would make everything better; she just had to wait until he could shower her with affection.

Kicking herself for depriving herself of his company over the last six months, she sighed.

She’d barely visited her favorite person in the entire world since moving to the same city.

He’d been a huge part of the draw to Seattle, her head filled with fantastical ideas about going to all his games and hanging out in the off-season.

Lance met Connor once and nixed the idea.

Apparently, it was “highly inappropriate” for men and women to be friends.

Olivia disagreed, but when forced to choose, you were always supposed to choose your partner.

She’d limited her interaction with Connor to text messages and meme exchanges even though he lived less than half an hour from her apartment.

Dodging his invitations to games and parties had killed her for months until he stopped inviting her altogether.

Olivia poured a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and slammed the cupboard shut when she put the cereal away.

She chose the perfect spoon from Connor’s vast collection and sat on a bar stool facing away from the couch.

The temptation to sneak a peek was strong.

When would she ever have another opportunity to see him like this?

Teenage Olivia would simply have died if she knew even that one quick glance was in her future.

Shit. She couldn’t be entertaining those thoughts.

Maybe Lance had a point about Olivia’s relationship with Connor.

Her infatuation had started young, and despite time and distance, it never truly faded.

Olivia had reassured Lance a million times that he had nothing to worry about from Connor, and that was true.

On Connor’s end. But on Olivia’s? If she thought there was even the glimmer of a chance, she would have dropped Lance in a heartbeat.

She tapped her spoon on the counter, creating a steady, repetitive noise. There’s no way he missed the lights coming on or the sounds of the fridge opening and closing. She purposefully announced her presence. Yet his soft sounds of pleasure still filled the space, loud to Olivia’s ears.

She tried to focus on her cereal and took a massive bite.

A gasp from Connor had her turning on instinct, whirling around on her stool to greet him.

Every time they were separated for an extended period Olivia convinced herself that she misremembered how pretty he was.

The man had no business being so damn beautiful.

She thought he’d finally noticed her, but he remained occupied.

His hands fisted in the girl’s hair, encouraging her to move faster; his hips moving with her rhythm.

Olivia tried to rip herself away from the captivating show.

He picked his head up to look at the woman going to town on his dick.

His eyes met Olivia’s before they could find his target.

Immediately, his posture changed. Gone was the relaxed, pleasure-filled being she’d been inadvertently admiring, and in his place was her panicked best friend.

His body jerked, shoving his dick down the girl’s throat.

She gagged. Connor tore her mouth away from his cock and tucked himself into his sweats.

“Jesus Christ, Livy. I thought you were Lover. What the fuck are you doing here?” Connor asked, ignoring the girl who’d been servicing him and crossing the room to stand in front of Olivia.

Connor “Lover” Valentine was Connor’s linemate on the Seattle Freeze.

The Freeze had a whole line the fans lovingly called The Connor Line since all three forwards shared the same first name.

Valentine and Connor had become inseparable over the years, so it made sense that he would have assumed Valentine was the one making the obnoxious noise in the kitchen.

Olivia snapped her still-full mouth shut and wiped milk off her chin.

The girl he’d abandoned rose from her knees and faced them, wiping fluid from her mouth with the back of her hand in a much less embarrassing motion. She glared at Olivia, who waved and gave the girl a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” Olivia told Connor. “I needed you.” The woman joined them, wrapping her arm around his waist in a possessive gesture. Olivia offered a handshake and said, “Hi, I’m Olivia. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Connor’s hookup left Olivia hanging. She dropped her hand to her side. “Connor, are you going to introduce your friend?”

It sounded like an innocent question, but the death stare Connor gave her confirmed Olivia’s suspicion. This woman could attempt to stake any claim she wanted. Connor didn’t even know her name.

“Oof,” she grimaced apologetically. “Didn’t think so.”

Connor unraveled himself from the woman’s arms and snagged her hand, pulling her toward the front door. He shoved the girl’s arms into a jacket and slammed the door in her face, giving false promises to call tomorrow.