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It’s been four weeks since the surgery, and each day, I’m feeling more and more like myself again. The pain is easily ignored until I do something I'm not supposed to or put too much pressure on my knee. I’m getting around on only one crutch now. Might not have checked with Dr. Lyons on that one, but it’ll be fine. Any day now, I’ll be walking without them, and I can’t fucking wait. One step closer to getting back to practice.

Beyond the physical progress, something else is happening. Every day since the fateful night Rachel said she was open to exploring something sexual between us, it’s been so easy to just exist around her, to be with her. I’ve still had to bide my time, going the longest I've ever gone without sex, until I’ve been cleared by my doctor. She is worth every blue ball and painful moment of it. I don’t really have any experience with dating, but I imagine it's like waking up next to Rachel, each moment spent together better than the last, and falling asleep next to her, looking forward to the moments we will share the next day. If that’s what dating is, I want it with Rachel tenfold.

I left my previous life of being a fuckboy behind and haven’t looked back. Sometimes it even surprises me how easy it was to give it up without question. We start each morning together, we go through our day to day, and then we cook dinner together, her more than me, until I ditch the last crutch. Then, once it's ready, we eat each meal as a family. At the end of each night, we curl up in bed together and the last thing I remember before falling asleep each night is kissing her goodnight. We’ve melded our lives into a routine that feels right. Every day that I’ve been here, I wake up wanting to do it again. Sure, there are some things I would like to change like finally being cleared for action. That doesn’t stop me from trying to push the boundaries every night; it’s been a lot of heavy make-out sessions, each one leaving me wound up and aching for more. Rachel has held firm, waiting for me to get the stamp of approval from Dr. Lyons.

Today’s the day of that doctor’s appointment that determines if either of us is getting lucky. It also determines if I'm ready to start physical therapy, but honestly, all of that has been overshadowed. I’m not leaving that doctor's office until I get the all clear, either. I was looking forward to this appointment, for several obvious reasons, until I made the mistake of mentioning the appointment to Ford on the phone yesterday.

When my phone started buzzing the morning prior, I wasn’t really surprised to see Ford Jensen’s name flashing on the screen. The dude can barely leave me alone for a day without checking in. I rolled my eyes, while grinning as I answered.

“Hey brother, how’s it going?” Ford’s voice was upbeat, but I could hear the underlying curiosity.

“I’m good,” I said, leaning back on the couch. “Getting better, leg’s feeling stronger.”

Ford grunted. “Good to hear. And how’s Rachel?”

I kept my voice casual, keeping our situation tight-lipped. “She’s good. We’re just figuring it out.”

Ford snorted. “Figuring it out, huh? So, what, sex in the morning, sex in the evening type of figuring out?” His tone was teasing, but I know him well enough to know that he believed that’s the only thing that I was interested in.

I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning. “Shut up, man.”

But Ford was just getting started, nowhere near done torturing me. There was a pause, and Ford got to the real reason he called. To ask me when my next appointment is with Dr. Lyons. And that’s how Ford ended up flying in for a whirlwind—and unnecessary—trip to Atlanta.

He is at the apartment door bright and early this morning. Dressed in one of his better game day suits. I don’t know if it’s for the look or for luck but I laugh at him either way.

“Why the hell are you so dressed up?” I ask, knowing exactly where this is headed.

“I have to look my absolute best to see Dr. Maria. This is my chance to woo her. Or at least another chance to make some progress. I’m playing the long game, my friend,” Ford insists. “No way I’m missing this.”

“Seriously?” I try to argue, but I know it’s pointless.

We get to Dr. Lyons' office, and Ford is doing his best to be cool, but he’s failing miserably. The dude is staring at the door like a teenager waiting for his crush to show up. Meanwhile, I’m focusing on walking out of this appointment cleared for all activities.

Dr. Lyons knocks on the door gently and enters the room, all business, as usual. The only difference about today is she has glasses on. Ford’s face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree. He immediately starts out the gate with the charm. I have to pull him by the arm and force him into the chair. I can’t be bothered by his shit today, I’ve got other things on my mind.

“Ford shut the hell up and let Dr. Lyons work.” I hiss at him, poking him with the end of my crutch for good measure.

“Please, call me Maria. No need to be so formal,” she says with a small controlled smile.

I shake my head at her, laughing to myself and then at Ford. He immediately tells her that he will call her anything she wants him to. It’s really funny that she, of all people, the one who I’ve never seen looking or acting anything less than the textbook example of a professional, is saying that she doesn’t want to be a stuffy professional. I acknowledge her request regardless, “Sure thing, Maria.”

She checks me out thoroughly, examining my knee and my scar, bending it slightly. "Looks good, Oren. The swelling has gone down significantly since your last appointment, and your incision is healing nicely,"

Maria gives me a strong nod of approval, moving the glasses to the top of her head. "I think you're ready to start physical therapy."

“Great,” I reply, though half-heartedly. Physical therapy is important, yeah, but I’ve got another goal in mind. I clear my throat, glancing over at Ford, who’s completely distracted by Maria’s every move. Seemingly more obsessed with the glasses version of Maria. Fuck it, I’m just going to say it.

“Uh, Dr. Lyons,” I start, trying to sound casual. “There’s one more thing. Am I cleared for...all personal physical activities?” The inflection of my voice goes up at the end.

“You mean sex, Oren?” Her eyebrows lift, and a small chuckle escapes her lips. “I never would’ve pegged you to be so modest.”

Ford looks between Maria and I with wide eyes, his lips pulled between his teeth. “She said pegged, Oren,” he tells me with a very scared look on his face.

Apparently, Maria finds this situation way more funny than I do, because she starts laughing hysterically. Very unlike the professional side I’ve seen before. Ford, completely thrown off, swallows a big lungful of air and starts to cough, seemingly choking on his own air. I will say that seeing his entire face turn red is worth it. Not only has he made it awkward for all of us, I can see him squirming in his seat, looking up at the ceiling. Damn, Dr. Maria really is getting to him.

“Yeah, that.” I shrug, trying to keep cool. I’m not embarrassed because there is nothing to be embarrassed about. But that doesn’t keep me from acting like a teenage boy. “Sex, I mean.”

“I swear I wasn’t implying anything,” Maria lifts her arms up, her hands pressed outward, as she shakes her head while looking over at Ford. She finally stops laughing and crosses her raised arms, still looking amused. “As long as you’re careful and don’t put too much strain on your leg, I think you’re ready for anything.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I say, relieved, no longer able to keep my cool. Totally exposing how much I wanted to hear those words.

“How about you give me your number, Dr. Maria?” Ford, still bright red, chimes in awkwardly, not afraid to use the situation to his advantage. “I’m available for any and all personal physical activities, if you are interested?”

“No, thank you.” Dr. Maria gives him a polite nod. After the laughter from earlier, I have no idea if she is entertained by him or not.

I shake my head, poking Ford with my crutch again, yelling at him to stop being an idiot, “Please ignore him. He is a moron, and that’s why we don't take him out much.”

Maria takes on the debacle of having Ford with me in stride and moves on quickly, wrapping up the rest of the appointment. She gets me set up with my first physical therapy appointment and tells me to get the rest of the sessions scheduled soon. Before I’m dismissed, she reassures me that with dedication, I’ll be walking without crutches and on the ice in no time.

Ford and I leave the office, and I’m pretty sure he’s saying something to me, but all I can think about is Rachel. I’m back in business and hopefully that means together. Now the first obstacle is figuring out how to make tonight perfect. I have to tell her so that she is prepared, but I want the evening to develop organically. I could ask Elliot and Ziggy to babysit Lily for the night, but that feels like too much pressure. Not yet. I don’t want to rush anything. I want this to feel right, like it’s happening because we both want it, not because I’m forcing it.

He’s been ribbing me nonstop since we left Dr. Maria’s office. Somehow, Ford seeing his future wife, in his mind only, wasn’t even the highlight of his day. He is more obsessed with digging into my love life, giving me shit nonstop. We get back to the apartment, and he drops onto the couch.

“So, wait…when you said you and Rachel were figuring things out, I thought you meant figuring things out ,” He says, thrusting his hips up as if I couldn't already pick up on his innuendo. “Like, you know…with your dick.” He adds that last bit to drive the point home. After he is done, he sits there looking at me like I've lost my mind.

“Nope, nothing” I shake my head, chuckling as I hobble over to sit across from him.

Ford’s jaw practically drops to the floor. “Who the hell are you, and what have you done with Oren? Horny Oren? Mr. You Don’t Need Those Pants?”

I roll my eyes, laughing at his stupidity. Nobody calls me that. At least, I don’t think they do. “Shut up. I’m serious about this thing with Rachel. We’re actually getting to know each other. It’s not just about fucking. People don’t actually call me that, do they?”

Ford looks a little shocked before quickly recovering and hitting me with a mock serious look. He ignores my genuine question entirely, still focused on what interests him. “So, you’re telling me that you, Oren Samuels, are not having sex even though you’re living with a serious MILF?”

“Keep your fucking eyes off of her!” I growl in his general direction.

“Dude, calm down. I only have eyes for Maria Lyons now,” Ford leans back, smirking. “All I'm saying is, I guess you’re officially a mature adult, brother.”

I shrug, and we both start laughing, and it feels good—just me and one of my boys talking shit. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten some decent chirping in, and it’s nice. As we sit there talking shit, the front door opens, signaling the return of Rachel and Lily. The second I see them, my heart does that weird flutter it always does now when I see her.

She smiles at us, her eyes lingering on mine a little longer than they usually would. “How’d the appointment go?”

“Cleared to start physical therapy.” I lean back, grinning.

Rachel’s face lights up. “Oren, that’s amazing!”

In true Ford form, he derails the celebration by making it awkward. “Yeah, and he’s cleared for sex, too. So, buckle up for the ride, Rachel.”

Rachel’s eyes go wide, and her entire face turns red. I give Ford an ‘eat shit and die’ glare. “Thanks for that, Ford. Really appreciate it.”

Ford winks as he tries to stifle his laughter and leans back, looking far too pleased with himself.